Oh, Bloody El!

Since my move a couple of months ago, I've had this recurring dream that startles me awake in the middle of the night. I can't remember the details of this dream, and don't know whether it's even the same dream each time or if it's a bunch of different dreams with the same end result. In these forays into my subconscious, I invariably wind up in the path of an oncoming train; my fleeting sense of panic, coupled with the disorientation that comes from being jarred out of a deep sleep, hurtles me from unconsciousness to full attention so quickly that all I can do is blink groggily while I try to figure out where I am.

Thankfully, I'm safe in my bed, but unfortunately, the roar of the oncoming train is all too real. I live right next to an el station -- as in, if I were to fall out of my living room window, I would land on the tracks -- and for some reason, the first trains of the morning are always the loudest. Most of the time, I don't even notice all the transit activity that goes on outside my window; it's like static, or background noise, to me. When the trains come to a stop, their momentum stops as well, and the noise is usually pretty minimal. But when the trains start up again in those dark, silent hours before dawn, a few of them bypass my station and don't start picking up passengers until they're further down the line. While they are supposed to adhere to the speed limit sign that is nailed to my apartment building, with nothing (and nobody) stopping them, these trains literally go careening down the track, uninhibited by the monotony of transporting commuters that bogs down the process any other time of day.

And the noise they leave in their wake is considerable: the window panes rattle, my dishes move around in the cupboards, and I am instantly wide awake. My fear isn't entirely unfounded, though; the only thing stopping the train from careening into my apartment building (should it ever derail) is a flimsy chain-link fence. This is of little comfort to me as I'm lying awake in bed. By the time my heart stops pounding, the birds start singing outside, beckoning in the break of day. As I lay staring at the ceiling at that ungodly hour, I can't help but mutter, "oh, bloody el!" ... pun fully intended.