I still cannot understand what made me get on the train. I just know that I felt an impulse, a push on my legs that forced me to take a step and get on. I walked through the coaches until I found a solitary one. I needed time and space to think. My life had been chaos the last couple of days, and now, I was on a train without knowing the destination of my life. I sat on the other side of the window to admire the landscape. Maybe I would see something I could recognize, a sign of what had happened. When night finally fell and the light of the sun no longer touched the trees, I closed my eyes. It was 10:30 p.m. already.
I fell into a deep almost hallucinogen stupor. I felt drugged and I was terrified to know if it was due to the exhaustion or something I had taken. Suddenly, I remembered images. They were faint and incoherent. Remembering a meditation class I had once taken to please an old girlfriend, I decided to let the images run as if it was a film. Maybe this way I could understand something, know something. The image of a blond woman with light skin and a pink dress repeated several times. I did not recognize her but I felt I had met her during the last couple of days.
The train stopped in a small unknown town. I remember seeing the word Bunde at some point, but I wasn’t sure. What did that mean? I looked out the window to see if I could recognize any of the passengers. Nothing. I heard some voices but could not understand what they said. Everything was abrupt, unfriendly. I felt a strong desire to be home and feel the warmth of my place, of something known.
When the train reached its third stop, I stood up. The same push that made me get on the train made me get off. The few people that got off the train made their way home without noticing my fear. I walked with everyone not knowing where I was going. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to get off the train. Would I be able to get back to the station if this search proved to be unsuccessful?
I walked about ten minutes. I was cold and hungry, and the fear I felt choked me up. I walked to a tall, dark building. The names on the entrance signaled this was an apartment building. I found a set of keys I had never seen inside my coat pocket. I went in and took the elevator. The other key had a sticker with the number 309 on it. I got off on the third floor and found the door. 309. What would I find once I opened it? Perhaps I would find a clue as to what had happened to me these last couple of days.
Carefully I opened the door. I didn’t want to make noise and alert anyone in the apartment. I found a lamp softly illuminating a chair. Next to the chair was a table with a cold cup of coffee and several books. I immediately recognized the titles. There was a bookshelf behind with more books and pictures. I walked towards it. Perhaps the woman in the pink dress would be in these pictures.
As soon as I looked at the photographs, I felt a chill come in to the apartment and inside my body. This was too much and I fell together with the photo. I found my ghost.
This story was inspired by what I remember… (part 1) talks about.