Rowyn (rowyn) wrote,


This morning, for the first time in a while, I woke up not only remembering a dream, but thinking "This was a vaguely interesting one. I should write it down." It's not a particularly good dream, but it's better than the totally mundane ones I've been having.

Emerald City used to have a trolley system. It's long since been dismantled, but as a sort of gimmick, the city has a specially-painted bus that runs the major trolley route from downtown to the Plaza.

I was dreaming that I was waiting for a bus, and decided to take the trolley instead. In my dream, the trolley-bus looked a lot more like a real trolley. It even had separate cars. And it had open sides, so you could board along its length. It was probably drawn from my recollections of San Francisco trolleys.

The driver didn't want to stop for me at first. I ran after it, because he'd started to slow down, and it had open sides so I was thinking to climb in at the back. But I ended up waiting until he stopped at the next block.

Now, awake, I don't recognize the part of the city it was taking me through. This is unusual; my typical dream loots my memories for settings. But in the dream, we were going through a very run down area, with broad streets, old tall buildings on the left, and the river on the right. I remember thinking, “This must be where the old pier was. It was probably quite busy back when the real trolley ran.”

The trolley bus was driving, I though, kind of recklessly. We wove back and forth over the wide street, dodging objects. The cars of the trolley had separated; I remember trying to figure out what kept the rear cars following the lead car. I thought maybe they were slaved to the actions of the lead car, because even with a hundred feet between us we were still following the lead car's pattern. I thought, “It must take a lot of skill to drive a vehicle like this.”

Then the driver crashed down what was left of the old pier. The lead car came to a stop hanging partway off the pier, but my car, behind it, swung right past it and sailed out over the river, to sink on the far side.

I was near the front of where the trolley landed, in the water, but it wasn't that deep where I was, perhaps thigh-height. There was a steep embankment before us, too steep to climb. I poked my head up, and yelled at a couple of men playing a game by a picnic area to come help us, and to call 911. They looked back at me, puzzled. “There's a problem?”

I've got a whole busload of people who just crashed into the river, what do you think? I was quite annoyed at them. After a little while, I managed to convince them to come help us, and to bring a stack of ponytail holders I had spotted. I wove the ponytail holders into a rope and used them and the men's aid to help me out of the trolley car. Then I turned to the rest of the car and started helping them out. They'd all stayed seated, waiting for me to save them. I found out there was a place beside the embankment where the people could just step out of the trolley to solid ground, then walk to a less steep part of the embankment. I felt stupid for not noticing it before.

We got everyone unloaded at last. One of the men must have called 911, because emergency vehicles were starting to arrive. Lut had showed up and was next to me. No one seemed hurt. But there was one woman, standing on what looked like a partly-submerged pier -- maybe it was the back of another trolley car -- and not coming out of the river. We were calling her, but she didn't want to come. She yelled, “I can't find any of my bags!”

Lut said to me, “That's her problem.”

“Or my wallet! Or my emergency ID!”

“That's her problem, too.”

But I felt bad for her. I peered into the river near me. The water was surprisingly clear, and seemed clearer the closer I looked. I could see the pebbles of the riverbed near me. But no possessions.

This is where I woke up.

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