I waited at the stop for the train to arrive.
I had a lot of stuff with me.
I was on the train and I apologized to an older couple who wanted to occupy the bench. My stuff was strewn everywhere.
I sat next to a man. He handed me a messy stack of papers and envelopes. I said it was my mail and I would be throwing much of it away.
I looked out the window and saw that the countryside was flooded. I wondered why the train did not stop, but kept chugging along.
Like when the Polar Express slides sideways over the frozen arctic ice, I watched from above as our train buckled into a Z and slid through the water, surely off the tracks by now.
The train continued on.
I felt around for Q’s pump bag, loosening the strap so that I could sling it over my shoulder and across my chest. I reached for my backpack.
I asked the gentleman beside me if he saw the juice boxes that I had earlier. I needed the juice boxes.
Q was in the seat in front of me, for some reason not by my side.
We pulled into a town and I could feel the train hitting the objects in it’s way. We headed straight for a building.
I told the people around me that my daughter was diabetic and that she will not be able to get herself out. She would need help.
I placed my hand on her shoulder wishing I could hold her to brace for the impact, but there was no time to get her to my lap.
We went through the side of the building and the train car quickly teetered forward as if cresting the top of the first hill of a rollercoaster.
I could see straight down into the mine shaft.
I woke myself.