I dream in color.
I used to have very powerful dreams that I remembered forever. I can still remember some dreams I had during middle school. Last night I had one of those dreams. It was one of the most terrifying dreams I have ever had in my life.
I'm on a train with my old roommate, Regan, and and old high school friend named DJ. I'm going to some big party or something in Washington with Regan. Our train is packed with tourists and a big college football game is playing loudly on some of the tvs that are mounted above some of the plush seats.
Our "captain" for the train opts to take a scenic route instead of the direct route for the tourists to have more picture opportunities without stopping the trains that are driving straight through. Regan and I are not tourists and are doing our own thing, listening to music, playing on laptops and reading.
"Breaking news" in a red lower banner on the screen catches our attention. We shift our view and we see a picture of a local mountain with thick purple smoke lifting into the sky. The banner reads, "Local Ute Magician is at it again". I didn't get it and Regan explained that there was a crazy old Ute Indian Magician, who was upset at the government. He'd been threatening to take violent action if the government didn't solve their problems and give more money to Native Americans.
She didn't seem worried and I didn't believe in any of that stuff so we continued what we were doing, but Regan kept a cautious eye, checking the window every once in a while. I looked up from my book when I heard her scream.
Her face was pushed up against the window and I caught a glance of what looked like a missile covered in fire, racing down the train track line we had just pulled off for the scenic view.
It ripped up the ties and metal binding with such power and force. Regan is freaking out more about her family staying in Seattle. She seemed so sure that they were doomed from this missile...even though it was heading south. The train was already stopped and there were rumors that the engine was broken.
We attempted to get off the train but were stopped by the captain, who thought it would be safer to stay where we were at.
It didn't take long for a local Indian tribe supporting the magician took over our train; and each train prisoner was paired with an Indian who took great pains to point out all the specific spiritual rituals of the tribe. If any of the prisoners couldn't do it correctly, they were killed on the spot--a tomahawk to the skull or knife to the throat. I was very bad at these spiritual rituals, but my "master" was kind. They had these intricate sideways totem poles that panned the sides of the mountain we were climbing. The poles had a specific way you had to climb, some symbols you climbed over and others you climbed under. I climbed over one and looked at my guide. He cringed and looked around. When he saw no one was watching, he turned the animalistic creature around to face me as I went over it.
I ran into my old friend from high school, DJ, at camp. He was laughing and acting the male ego part out as he said that the Indians were crazy--they had just paired him in a duel with the captain of the train. I couldn't understand why he wasn't freaking out.
The remainder of the prisoners were escorted to a circular rink, where the captain was acting the bravado as well, pumping his muscles while DJ walked up, raising his scrawny arms. I knew it would be to the death.
These people were looking for reasons to kill all of us. I was terrified to think how I would die. I knew I would sooner or later.
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