Unspoken Dream of Someone Else

It felt like an unspoken dream of someone else. It was a memory of Lisle, IL, quite a while ago. I was waiting at the train station, to be picked up. It was almost dark, and I was waiting. And so is a lady. At least I thought so. And then I realized something. She was not waiting. She was not there, not at all. She looked at me in the eye. I was not at all comfortable. “And the American dream!” She shouted! I jumped from the sitting area. I was startled, anxious. No trace of my car yet! And She went on muttering, Which almost seemed a monologue, she is talking her mind. I had to believe it has to do something with her way of talking, That she is not waiting in that train station, not waiting for anything. She had white cloths, not clean enough, and a bag with her. And a look. It was almost evident that she was angry. Only that is true. True enough to panic. I am drafting this, decades later. I am dragging moments from my pandora box. I hated myself then. As, it felt like an unspoken dream of someone else, unknown.