The House On The Railway

My buildings often have some strange architecture.

I was with a woman, who was dressed in a dark blue dress, inside a house with one room, and a front door which opened up directly onto a railway track. As in, the track was right in front of the door, with trains roaring past not ten feet away. I opened the door - it opened inwards (how strange ...) - and this friend wandered outside and crossed the tracks.

The tracks remained empty, until she made it to the embankment on the other side; only then did the train speed past the entrance, blasting by at speed. I kind of felt a little trepidation about exiting the room at that point, but what the hell - it was that or stay for the fire. So I left.

I crossed the track, encountering nothing thankfully; but at the top of the grassy embankment were more train tracks. Lots of them, both in current use and abandoned and grassy and overgrown. And I was under the distinct impression that I had to hurry to make it across all of these tracks, because there was going to be another one any minute.