Sometimes (often) my sleeper train of thought takes me on long complicated journeys involving emergency stops and breakdowns. Usually I am lost in a strange place and can't find my way home although I know that I know it. Or rather knew it.
Sometimes it goes on journey's down disused branch lines ending at crumbling platforms thick with weeds and the ruins of old waiting rooms, haunted by the ghosts of long dead station masters and ticket collectors with myself and my own ghosts the only passengers.
Or the tracks run alongside the sea or a river that floods, rising waves come in and wash me away.
On all these journeys fear is my companion and a state of constant confusion.
Othertimes and less often a short journey of maybe a few stops to somewhere planned. Through the window in the distance the mist clears and rays of sunshine break through.
Always my waking trains of thought take me back to that last goodbye, and all the things I never knew how to say but wanted to.