The other night (it was actually 4am) I woke from a vivid dream that I knew immediately I would eventually share with you guys. Here it is:
I was in a club car of an old train which split through snowy mountains reminiscent of Russia or Scandanavia. The train was over a century old, probably. Some of the passengers dressed accordingly (think Agatha Christie) but others were vaguely modern. My focus when I was not staring at the white caps and plunging fir trees was on the mysterious pale face man who anchored an entire booth by what looked like a game of solitaire. He calmly flipped over cards laid before him and studied the cryptic images before him. He smirked under his black bowler. Why were his lips so thin, so white?
Next I was in a library holding a heavy white and black book with a similar image of a train on the cover. Intuitively I knew the story was about disparate travelers on a train who don't remember how or why they are on the train. The card dealer is Flagg-ian and speaks with each traveler privately as they are able to remember pieces of their past and, to their horror, their respective deaths. Can they cheat Death at a mere card game? With pleading? Bribery? At all?
This was when I awoke. It was so real.
I was in a club car of an old train which split through snowy mountains reminiscent of Russia or Scandanavia. The train was over a century old, probably. Some of the passengers dressed accordingly (think Agatha Christie) but others were vaguely modern. My focus when I was not staring at the white caps and plunging fir trees was on the mysterious pale face man who anchored an entire booth by what looked like a game of solitaire. He calmly flipped over cards laid before him and studied the cryptic images before him. He smirked under his black bowler. Why were his lips so thin, so white?
Next I was in a library holding a heavy white and black book with a similar image of a train on the cover. Intuitively I knew the story was about disparate travelers on a train who don't remember how or why they are on the train. The card dealer is Flagg-ian and speaks with each traveler privately as they are able to remember pieces of their past and, to their horror, their respective deaths. Can they cheat Death at a mere card game? With pleading? Bribery? At all?
This was when I awoke. It was so real.
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