The Passenger

The moment caught me when I finally realized I was sitting on the train watching the trees slowly passing by after a long day of attachment and rain. The next fourteen hours were getting ready to unfold slowly to a journey reflected through active thinking about the present, commemorating the past, and envisaging the future. The day had languidly come to an end. The sky had grown dimmer. The clouds had drifted calmly clearing the way to infinite darkness to come. I could imagine a few stars igniting readily to accompany my trip even though it was difficult to see them from a train window passing speedily through a large forest with trees standing tall. I always loved the stars. They always appeared in my thoughts, tickled my imagination, and guided my existence. My breathing grew slow and my eyelids heavy as if peace took me in its hands and started to sing me a lullaby with the beats of the train wheels moving on the railway. My thoughts took me to places full of wonders and colors, and in no time, I was disconnected from the present moment. I was asleep.  

Dreams.  
 
It was a gentle touch on my shoulder that woke me up. My eyes were full of tears. A girl in a bright lively yellow dress was sitting in front of me across the table. ‘Are you okay?’ She asked with a worried voice, ‘You were shaking. I am sorry if I disturbed you. I wanted to check if you are all right’. I smiled with a slight nod to assure her that I was feeling good and there was nothing to worry about. I did not remember having been shaking, but my tears would tell that I might have had an emotional dream that my mind and body were expressing lucidly. I was not sad. I was feeling normal. I looked at the girl in wonder. Her eyes were piercing and alert as if her sight was an extreme sense of touch. I became aware of every part of my body that she would lay eyes on. I was not sure if it was a real touch that had woken me up or the power of her eyes.  

The night, accompanied by the sound of music that stuck in my head during the summer, peaceful and meditative, carried its wonders. I felt nothing but wistful yearning for the happiness I exhibited in the place I was leaving. I was calmer now. I attempted to think about the colors of an ancient city, a song, and a butterfly gliding around a flower at the riverbank.  
 
My eyes could not maintain a look outside the window but have a rapid glance at the girl. I was glad that our eyes did not cross for if that happened, I might have come to an awareness of my own eyes. She seemed welcoming, and coming, as for she wanted probably to start a conversation with me, or was she worried about a state of my mind. I wanted to start a conversation myself, but all my body showed, in reaction to the whole situation, was a slight sign of shyness. Her eyes were looking through the window on the other side of the train. That led me to think about the other sense mechanisms she appeared to imply. Her body was taking different geometrical presentations, communicating the presence of fresh air coming in, of the colors reflecting out, of the sounds vibrating, of life and experience.  
 
It was pleasing to sneak a look every now and then to see her. Some charm was drawing my curiosity to do so, and I was, now, more enthusiastic to fix my eyes on her face since that charm has hypnotized my timidity and I was readier to start verbalizing my words and open up a bit, I was traveling for a long night after all, and I needed to make sure I could be safe around a stranger of different energies. She turned her head and looked me in the eyes. She smiled, and I could not help but ask her, "What brings you up here?". "Your thoughts," she replied, "brought me here to consult you on three different pathways that would lead you to the same finish line".  

The blue, the yellow, and the red were the paths that she elaborated on to reach the finish line. They all led to the same destination. They all flamed with fire. I could see it in her eyes as she spoke softly and my eyes, again felt heavy. I was asleep again.  
 
I was dreaming of the finish line and it appeared bright and peaceful. Far. I could not reach it for I had to decide first which path I would take. Signs hung with few instructions for each. The blue: look at a cloudless sky, gaze into it, away from the horizon and sun, to where nothing obscures the blue splendor, drink in the sky. Yellow: firing with the sun. Red: fiery love.  

The image happened to communicate a suggestion. I was not sure which one to plunge into. I gave it a thought to realize I was able to choose even though being in a dream, I had completely free will. I just needed to take the first step. I then remembered that those three colors can create any color just by mixing different amounts of each. It was suddenly a painting and I was preparing my blend to come up with a color of my desire, my instinct, my truth. And that was how I manipulated my dream. I woke up in the excitement of a touching inspiration only to find no one was in before me, and I was, all the time, in a trick of the imagination, yet so real. 

The next day was promising a journey of so many detailed discoveries. Adventures would take me to museums where art met history and harmony met ambition.