To cap off the end of a truly shitty day, David’s train was delayed. There’d been an incident further up at the intercity junction and nothing was coming through until it was cleared. No times were given. The other commuters emanated a collective sigh of frustration and began to look around for seats. David narrowly missed out and was forced to lean against a wall instead.
The mounted television began to blare out commercial after commercial. David watched until it became apparent that there was no scheduled programming at all. The newspaper was not much better, except for the weather report. A Category 4 dream was forecast to hit the city in the latter part of tomorrow afternoon lasting for much of the night. David checked the date. It was yesterday’s paper.
Absolutely fantastic. No sleep then.
No sleep for most of the city in fact. David suppressed an involuntary shudder. The last time he had a dream, he found himself in the Old City. Over its stone buildings loomed trees the height of mountains. Their shadows were darker then death, their branches formed a net that enveloped the sky. A dreadful fascination pulled him towards them, higher and higher. But as high as he got, he never reached the branches, only further from the Old City.
He found out the next morning that it was only a category 1, barely rating a mention. No, he would not sleep tonight.