In an unknown Asian country, mild tremors rock the earth all day. I am walking the wobbly roads of a small village where few live. China? Am I in China? Clay walls, red roofs, green doors, geese waddling, dogs napping in smoke.
How did I get here? I don’t want to be in China. I walk to an old station, get on a train to somewhere; don’t know where to get off because I don’t know the language. It isn’t Chinese and there’s only one other person on the train:
A woman with Elephantiasis sitting near me gives me a bowl of noodles with live sardines leaping in and out the broth. The train jostles, noodles spill, sardines are flapping on the floor. I picked them up and swallow them whole like a seal.
A station comes into view. It is smoldering with fire. The woman says in perfect English, “Get off here.”, so I do. Not knowing where I am, I feel all eyes on me, but only a few kids are there. They point and run away squealing like piglets.
Another train pulls in. Getting on, I find ancient art standing on seats and in the baggage cage. The train hunches, jerks forward, dishes teapots vases cups Buddhas falling, crashing…
Hard as I try, I cannot catch one. I wake in a mild panic feeling I’ve been traveling and just got home. Fucking dreams! I haven’t the foggiest what this one means, I’ll write it down. I’m sure my therapist will have something amusing to say.
Rayn Robert 2017