Prairie train dream
Photo: Gerald Farinas.
I walk through the galleries of the Art Institute of Chicago, the clip of my heels against the wooden floorboards echoing through the halls. I move past stoic Greek and Roman statues that feel strangely out of place in this prairie building. On the walls, the centuries-old oil eyes of biblical characters stare down at me, a small Filipino man inching through the corridors. As I walk, I am still digesting a vivid dream from last night.
In the dream, I am the captain of a train traveling through a flat, endless prairie landscape much like the one where I live. I pull into stations along the rails to pick up random people. They do not know what I know. They have no idea how they ended up at these stations, some waiting with a bag and others with nothing at all. I tell them to get on board and find a seat in one of the cars.
Inside the train, they converse with each other in hushed, confused tones. I continue the journey, pulling up to other stations to let them off. There, they are reunited with long-lost loved ones. As I pull the train away from the platform, the realization finally hits them. They understand the secret I have been carrying. I am piloting the dead across the plains, and I am happy to do so.
Photo: Gerald Farinas.
