Before, the flow of memory starts, the Reader must know that this all is for him, so let us, the Author and the Reader, concentrate once on the weaving and forget all about the other world for we are about to enter the Dreamworld with our companion as Death.
Thrice the station’s bell sounded and resounded and I found myself standing alone, holding a bare ticket in my hand, on a vacant train station. To my fading memory, I remembered leaving my mortal vessel some hours ago but where, I couldn’t recall. My sight wandered and at last glimpsed a huge ‘C’ above the desolate staircase.
It is the nature of the soul to feel spineless when consigned to an unknown place, especially if it has plain white walls, no reception or egress and shadows that do not exist. Feeling totally out of my depth, I tried to take a step towards a vacant bench which seemed so tempting but I could not move. All sense of perception was overwhelmed by fear; my body, my hands, all of me was shaking with it, and for once, I wished that I was back with my brother mortal.
At last, to my great relief, my eardrums welcomed the distant sound of the train’s whistle and hope took the fear’s place, my first glimpse of the train was unexpected for it was a black train and I tell you Listener, that it was no ordinary black, it looked a part of the void, even the shadows couldn’t imitate it, even the night, itself, failed. Only one soul could be seen, through the translucent glass that like a veil covered one half of the train, but his mien was unknown to me because of distance.
I felt sweat open its eyes upon my temples yet there was no dankness and I felt no wind and heard no howl or chirp or squeak. It felt as if the station wandered amidst the void, forlorn amidst the whole universe. But inside my heart a storm was raging with such viciousness and force that I almost fainted.