I am in a train, near the cieling, on a black mattress which is supported by a platform. The platform under the mattress is being dragged in to the rest of the train behind me as if it were a train going in to a tunnel. That platform is then replaced by another, as if it were a train car. But the matress is staying where it is, so I expect it to remain with the last platform. But, when the last platform is also dragged in to the train the mattress falls and I am left hanging on to a handrail outside the last car on the train. My bag with all of my valuables has also fallen off the train, and its loss is also disturbing, but not as disturbing as hanging off the end of the train.

Fortunately a conductor sees me, opens the door and pulls me inside. He is French, so I can't explain to him that I was a legitimate passenger on the train, with a ticket, not some hanger-on. He takes me to a room where there is a couple laying on the floor. They seem like they have been crying for a long time. Their faces and bodies are covered in tears. The man has a black spot on his forehead, the woman has a red one. I start to put my hand over their clasped hands as a gesture of support. They shake their heads and refuse. I move in closer and offer to put my hand over theirs again. The shrink away, obviously scared. I tell them that I would not have forced my hand on them without their permission, they need not fear.

Then the conductor offers me a drink from a very shallow champagne glass. I shake my head to indicate I don't want it. But then the train lurches and I hit my head on the white, padded wall of the train compartment, and, while my head is tipped back he conductor quickly pours the champagne in my mouth. I laugh. The woman, seeing this, quickly and with a very serious, determined look on her face waves at herself to indicate to the conductor that the couple want a drink of the champagne as well. He pours them some and they drink it.

The woman, now a small, white, very furry kitten leaps from the man on to a red leash that is on the other side of the room. She plays with the leash. The man and I are laughing. The kitten falls over on her back and passes out. There are two big cats sitting next to her, and they start pawing at her, playing with her. The man laughs.

I dreamt...

I was at Berne trainstation, at night. It looked slightly different. Bigger, wider, loftier. I wanted to catch a train, on track 13 (but I might be making this up just now), when almost out of nowhere there is a man. He stops me and tells me that I can't go that way. And that I shouldn't be here. I don't remember what I answered. Maybe I said 'oh?' He tells me to look that way - there are violent protests.

I don't remember against what they were protesting, but dreaming about it might have something to do with me having seen all the police people blocking off entries/exits of Berne trainstation in expectance of late night riots against the G8 meeting in Evian / Geneva.)

He takes me up to a terrace of sorts, to show me why I can't go that way. He points to track 13, and to the streets outside the station. There is tear gas smoke above the Bollwerk. I faintly wonder if Rebecca is working in the Reithalle tonight and am slightly worried about her. Still, the riots seem so far away, the smoke and the noise we hear seems so faint.

Despite the smoke in the air this is a lovely evening. We stand on the terrace and watch. And breathe in the fresh night's air. He is a gentle man. He seems very mature, old even, yet I know that he is young still.

He breaks the silence, bends his head to mine and says 'you smell nice.' He seems surprised at this. I smile. He then softly cuddles me, and I snuggle against his chest, and everything is so right.

And there we stand, and watch.

I wake up with a start - thunder and lightning (but no rain) have broken the spell and my sleep.

Even now, almost a day later, I remember him rather vividly. He is no man I have seen before. Yet, I hope that I will meet him one day. I'm sure I'd recognise him everywhere.

*smiles*

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