Put Me On A Train Mama ’cause Things Just Ain’t The Same No More
I had a dream I was walking around at night in the park, where I grew up, and behind the swingset, there was this 3-4 story brick building. It looked like an old tavern or inn, but it was beautifully maintained with a nice porch and white shutters on the windows. It had a for sale sign in front of it. Across the front door in big gold plate letters “Washington Train Museum” was written. I walked in and everything was very clean, but obviously it was closed. The front lobby had a gift shop area. The upstairs was a restaurant. As I walked up the wooden staircase to the third floor, it overlooked the dining area of the restaurant. In the third floor, there were a few rooms, like offices perhaps. One of them had a light on inside, behind a sheet that covered the door way. I walked in, and there was a man standing in there. He was an artist of some sort, definitely a hint of mystery about him. He was in his 30s, black hair, thin black beard and mustache, and dressed like you’d expect someone from the early 1900s to dress with a tightly fit vest and sleeves rolled up. He seemed welcoming and asked if I was interested in buying the building. I told him that I didn’t remember the building being there when I was a kid, so I knew that it was not a permanent building. I was so very impressed with potential of the place though, so I asked him how I could be sure people would be able to get to it if I did buy it and try to reopen it to the public. He seemed entertained that I had figured out the building was a sort of “traveling” building. Then I came up with the idea that I’d have to market it as a place where you could visit in your dreams. Only such a lovely place could be rationalized as existing in a dream world.
We shook hands. I woke up.667 views