Empty Platforms

"What platform do I need to go to?" I remember being asked, from, ahhh who was it? The face, I know it but at the same time I don't. Wait, where are they? Best get my train. Who was that? How odd. Let's see then. Ah ha, A train direct to Japan, yes that is defiantly the right train. let's get on.

I'm here, that was certaintly quick. That's odd, I don't remember the journey. I'm just sort of... here. There's a lot more white people than I expected, and why is everyone speaking English? Oh...

Every time I can sense that I'm dreaming, I open my eyes. I learnt how to do it when I was young, as a way of avoiding all of the nightmares I seemed to be getting every other night. Now, I just open them when the illusion has been lost. I check the clock on the table, 3 o'clock. There's still daylight outside, so I didn't really need to check. I rush myself back to sleep but, unfortunately, in the next dream I don't remember a thing.

Work is an endless series of repetitive tasks from cigarette to cigarette. I often find myself losing track of time. Sometimes I'm lost in my thoughts, sometimes in a podcast, sometimes in nothingness. I'm sorting letters into the correct Pidgeon holes. So for example, if the letter is due to arrive in Crawley, it goes into either RH10 or RH11. If it is due for Brighton, then the letter is due for either BN1 or BN2 but not BN 2 (6-8) as that is Rottingdean and not Brighton. I'm falling asleep just explaining this.

It's 6 in the morning and another shift has ended. I'm leaning against a street light, waiting for my bus home, wondering what I have left in the fridge. The bus stop has a timing screen, so I can check if I have time for a cigarette or not. I do, excellent. Well, except for the fact that I can see my own breath and my teeth are chattering.

I get a text on my phone. Despite the feeling of my hands going numb, I decide to read it.

Hey, Eskmans playing this Sat night

I think about it for a moment, and respond to it.

Yes

I'm on the platform rolling up a joint. I try to smoke it, but it makes my mouth feel strange. There's someone on the tracks. I think its a man, or it could be a woman. They're trying to climb up onto the platform, but they can't. I don't get up, I don't feel that I need to. Everyone else is standing still, I'm not sure if they're even real.

The Train approaches. The person on the track says something to the effect of "Aw well I tried" and just as the train passes, they disappear, as if they were never there. I look around and there's no one else here.

I try to remain calm as the security guard is feeling my arms and legs. I hope they don't check my socks, not that they ever do, but they do have sniffer dogs here today. I through, yes! I look towards my friend, they're through too!

1 pill for now and the second in 4 hours. I use to do them in halves, but the last time I tried that I just didn't get the same buzz, so now I do them 1 at a time. I'll happily take the risk of puking my guts out on a street corner in a few hours time.

"Semi-automatic, BLAH BLAH BLAH!" We scream "Semi-Automatic, BLAH BLAH BLAH!" We scream some more.

There's a shitload of people here. Fucking hell. It's dark, hahahahaha. Ohhh she looks nice. Dam so does he. I am sweating a lot. My stomach feels weird. It must be the energy. I keep moving, a cigurette in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"Oi Listen" The MC shouts in the Mic. "I've got this fat girl fetish"

"Why?" Everyone screams back at him.

"The fattest girls get the wettest yea" He answers "She want the burger she don't want no lettuce so I..."

"Smack that batty like table tennis" Everyone screams back at the MC in unison.

I look over at my friend. They take of their sunglasses and ask "Are my eyes fucked?" In a quiet voice I can somehow hear despite all of the Nosie. I look into their eyes. They are moving all over the place as if they're noticing many different things at once and wide open as if focusing intently on something in particular. "fucked mate" I reply.

I'm trapped in my seat, unable to move, looking at trains rushing past me, one after the other. I can still feel the drum and bass in my veins. The vibrations. I can see figures of what appear to be people, but either darkened or whitened out, so I cannot see who they are. I can hear familiar voices screaming my name into my ears repeatedly.

I want to look at the trains, distract myself from whatever is happening. The trains are my sanctuary. I can suddenly move! I get up and run straight onto the train. But as soon as I get on the train, I feel like I have to imminently get off it again but when I get off the train, I end up at a different train station.

This one is much bigger. I look up and see it's name - 'the midpoint to Argonne' It sells croissants and tea, pretzels and coffee. I couldn't tell you if I were in Germany, France or even England. Where even is the Argonne? It could be that I'm actually in Belgium, or Luxembourg. I can feel a nice breeze on my skin.

"Three weeks apparently" My drug dealer told me as they me handed my big Z bag of weed. "So, is this to keep you all nice and comfy for those three weeks?" "Well" I replied "I'm classed as essential. Not fucking paid like it though" "Who is?" The dealer replied "I only do this to afford the rent" "I work nights to afford it" "If I get caught, I do get rent free accommodation" "And a criminal record" "Which would bar me from pretty much every job. Well, except for drug dealing of course" "Figures mate"

The station is empty for once. But there's not a single train in sight. Where are they? Where is my train? How long have I been waiting for? It's cold, very cold. Yet it's sunny today.

I walk towards the platform edge, more out of instinct than any sort of desire. I look down at the tracks, as they somehow seem to be becoming deeper and deeper the more I look down. Wait, I just realised something. I'm not wearing anything down below... Good thing there's no one around to see me.

There's a noise ringing in my ear. I open my eyes and to my shock and horror, it's my phone telling me to wake up. I have two options available to me, either I lay in bed for another hour and forced to rush a breakfast or I can have a joint, a shower and at least have time to cook something up. The thought of eating cooked food and showering whilst stoned found me rolling out of bed, forcing myself to drop onto the floor to wake me up. I shouldn't have spent so long on Warzone this morning.

There's still daylight outside but it'll be gone by the time I get to work. I guess for once, I'm not the only one missing out on summer. Now where's my grinder? I should have pre-rolled before going to bed, or perhaps I did? Of course, as soon as I roll my joint, I find the one that I pre-rolled from the night before. I figure I can have one now and one for the road.

Driving to work with a joint in my mouth with kisstory on full volume to keep me alert. freed for desire comes on, an absolute bop. I find myself grooving to the beat.

Shit! There's a police car. I spat my still lit joint onto my lap and turned the volume down on the radio. I look straight forward, not trying to bait myself out by looking directly at the police car. I'm trying not to shake and keep concentrated on the road. The lit joint is now burning a hole in my trackies. It's right on top of my... Christ will this cop just fuck off? Finally, it drives past. I reach down for my joint and keep smoking it. I also pour some water onto my crotch.

"This country has failed us" Comes a voice from the overhead speakers. The station guard must have felt like saying it I guess. "They want you to blame me for the trains never arriving because I refuse to have my job stolen from me" No one seems to be listening, I'm not really listening either.

I dream about trains so much, and for the first time in the year of 2021, I am finally on one! I look at the message on my phone. I'll meet you at Vicky :) I can't help but smile when I read that message. I met this person on one of those dating apps, I can't remember which one. They're a foreigner whose only ever experienced London. I wonder how they're react to seeing such a shithole as Crawley. I hope I don't look too pale.

"You live in Chelsea?" I ask them, trying to hide my shock. Luckily, it's an overcast day. I think a sunny day would have been too much of a shock for me. "yes I do." They respond "I love it here. The streets are so historical. The atmosphere is amazing!" They've clearly never been to Croydon then.

It was a lovely day, but there was something nagging at me. "Ugh, rent is so high though, it cost me half of my wage" They said, not knowing that 2 thirds of my wage goes to rent and council tax, in fuckign creepy Crawley. "We could go here, it would only cost us £30 each" They said. Only? "I'll tell you what city I love, Brighton! They have such good LGBT rights!" They said, clearly not realising that it's the only place where the T in that group could ever feel sort of safe. "This country has such good transport links!" They also said. I had waited 40 minutes for a 20 minute bus just the other day.

We're in the smoking area of some overpriced pub/American bar mash up, which is a translation for any excuse to charge a fucking premium. Here I am rolling up some Gold leaf tobacco and she's pulling out a packet of Silk cut purple. The sun had come out which I blame for my feelings of dizziness. I don't know why, but it was that moment, of everything, that simple moment, that made me realise that this could never happen.

This time, I know from the start that I am dreaming, but I don't try to pry my eyes open. I keep them closed, I decide to be, well sentient I guess, for this one. I can see them, sitting on the train next to me, with their face mask over their eyes. I had done the same earlier alone, to hide my tears. I look out of the window, but it's like there isn't a world out there anymore.

The week after that disaster, I decided to walk through the town centre. I hadn't done any proper shopping for a while and I needed a new pair of earphones anyway. The nice little independent electronics store had closed, so I had to go to the big retailer. The prices have certainly risen. I then decide to then get lunch. The nice café that I used to go to had also closed. I guess I'll have to get food from a chain then. Christ that cost me over ten pounds! Since when did it cost that much? I had driven into the town centre that day, and what a mistake. Parking was £12 for two hours! I'd have taken the bus if they actually ran on Sundays. I then drive to my dealer, a 3.5 for £30. The same price it has always been.

The train station has many different platforms, all of which require you take an escalator to get to. They all seem to out of the way but when you get to them, you realise what all of the effort was for. You look to see the grandest of trains you have ever seen. So grand it would make Gordan the express train blush in jealousy.

Where's this one going to anyway? New York? Dam, I've never been to America. But then again, I guess New York is just American London. How about this train to... wait what? London? London what? Vicky? Paddington?

I'm technically from London, even if I was eventually priced out of the city. Would it really be an adventure? The train doesn't arrive.

I woke up with an odd feeling in my gut and ,this time, it wasn't from the excessive smoking. We were striking at work as the company decided to not give us any sort of benefits such as a pay rise, more annual leave or more job security. It's not as if we worked through the entire fucking pandemic, or that you know, inflation is a thing that is currently happening. Or that the Shareholders of the company made record profits. Anyway, I wasn't working that day. I decided to go back to where I grew up.

Croydon was still Croydon, you turn one street and see another teenager stabbed for nothing. But then you turn the other corner, and see flats being priced as three quarters of a million each. I walked down the town centre. The Chinese buffet that I use to go to with my friends was gone. In it's place, a chain restaurant. My friend's parents owned a Ghanaian restaurant somewhere here. It's boarded up now. What about the old sweet shop? Replaced with an empty American candy store. Everything along that street was a chain. The Whitgift centre had half of it's stores empty. Central wasn't much better.

For the past three years, I have been dreaming of nothing but trains and train stations. Today, I walked out of the train station to see what existed beyond the land of potential journeys. As soon as I walked out, I woke up.

I was in another train station. Must have dozed off whilst waiting for the train. The train is here but the doors aren't open. I wait for them to open, but they don't.