Yesterday, April 11th, 2014, I was heading into the city. I’ve been feeling rather under the weather thanks to the effects of a head cold, so dozing off on the F train between Roosevelt Island and 63rd street was inevitable.
The sounds of the train car shrieking through the tunnel invaded me. At first it sounded like an angelic choir, but slowly became the haunting screams of people in agony. I found myself standing in an old Elizabethan room, decorated in turquoise. Across from me was a woman, who approached me aggressively. She began to speak to me about spiritual possession, but I couldn’t hear her clearly over the screaming. I could barely even hear myself trying to speak to her.
Her image dissolved into smoke after announcements came on the loudspeaker and the train came to a halt.