“Glory, glory Hallelujah!”

Final, vivid, memory-like dream of the night. A rather bleak city scene, overcast, cold, Eastern European feel, an open concrete expanse leading into a large train station with many doors in the plain facade. I’m a man wearing a dark suit walking with deliberate casualness, so as not to attract attention. I’m watching a woman walking a few yards ahead of me, suspecting that she, too, is moving with a deliberate air of unconcern. I’m an agent of some kind and the country is a totalitarian regime with a Nazi Germany kind of dread permeating the atmosphere. As I watch the woman, I become her for a few moments as she struggles not to break out into a run, barely able to contain herself. Inside, the terminal is crowded to bursting with people. I clearly see young white German looking soldiers sitting in rows of two in the train that pulls in, their black suitcases perched on the outside of the train because there would have been no room for them inside the train, which is more the size of cars in an amusement park ride. I see the uniformed soldier’s faces very clearly. I quickly board the emptying train, claiming one of the small compartment seats for myself. Hundreds of people are left waiting on the platform. A young woman seems very distressed at not having caught this train and I watch her as she sits down on the platform with a look of despair, close to tears. I see her very clearly, lucidly for a few seconds, her 1940’s hairstyle and clothing, which has the look of a uniform, not a nurse’s, but some other female organization involved in the war effort. I think about how selfish I, and others, are being, concerned only with claiming a seat and getting the hell out of there, but that’s the way life is now. I don’t consider giving the woman, or anyone else, my seat. I know she’s afraid, like everyone else, but my assessment is that she has no dangerous secrets to keep, no secret mission, as I do, and that she’ll safely catch the next train. We pull out of the station but we’re heading straight down, and I cry out in surprise and fear as some powerful complicated industrial mechanism clicks into place, opening and laying rails just in time for the train to catch them, and the whole time music is playing loudly, a male chorus singing, “Glory, glory Hallelujah!”

Dream Notes: This dream felt very much like a past life-probable self experience because I was someone else entirely, a man, and that young woman on the platform was there, I saw her, her clothes, her hair, her face, they were real, and part of me was aware of this for a lucid instant. The same was true when I saw the set faces of the young soldiers, each one unique and alive with suppressed emotions. The chorus “Glory, glory Hallelujah!” appears in 2 songs, so I discovered when I Googled it, having of course heard it before years ago somewhere: Glory, Glory (Lay My Burden Down) and The Battle Hymn of the Republic, the latter having been written by Julia Howe to “link the judgment of the wicked at the end of time (New Testament) with the American Civil War.”

Comments and Questions Welcome