I step onto the platform. The floor is covered in a thin layer of shimmering dust that glows faintly with every step I take. In the distance I hear something like a heartbeat, slow and steady.
A train arrives without making a sound. It’s made of silver metal that reflects the station like liquid. The doors slide open smoothly, inviting me in.
Inside, the train is nothing like I expect. Instead of seats, the walls are covered with drifting constellations. Stars move slowly across the interior as if I’m inside a small universe. The floor is transparent, and beneath it flows a quiet river of light.
The train begins to move. Through the windows I don’t see tunnels or tracks. I see memories. Not mine, but someone’s — people walking along a beach, a child laughing, an old man writing a letter, a city glowing in the rain. They pass by like moving paintings.
The train stops. The doors open into a field of tall grass that glows blue under a dark sky. Fireflies float around in patterns, forming shapes like symbols I almost understand.
In the middle of the field stands a tree made entirely of crystal. Its branches ring softly in the breeze. When I approach it, a crystal leaf falls into my hand. It warms instantly, then melts into a small sphere of light.
The sphere rises slowly and hovers in front of me. Inside it I see my own reflection — but older, calmer, standing confidently in a place I don’t recognize. My reflection reaches out and touches the inside of the sphere with two fingers.
I reach out too.
The moment our fingers align, the sphere bursts into thousands of tiny lights. They float upward like glowing snow.
The field fades. The train fades. The stars fade.
Only a gentle warmth remains in my chest, as if someone placed a small sun inside me.
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This exploration of your dream is intended for self-reflection and personal growth. It is not a substitute for professional medical or psychiatric advice.
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