It’s presumedly our eyes and our brain that conjure up some sort of reality for us to participate in.
Some claim to be on a different plane of reality where they can see and do the miraculous.
Others believe this whole construct we call reality is just a simulation. A computer program we’re all stuck in.
When we dream we enter yet another plane of reality. Are our actions in the dream affecting some other dimension, or are we essentially just hallucinating?
These are very good existential questions, but some of us simply don’t care. Some humanoids are “on the night train” and they’re “ready to crash and burn”.
They go through life “loaded like a freight train” and always taking on more cargo. Their baggage is compartmentalized and loaded behind them like “a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more” then they weigh when empty.
They walk among us like “passing trains that have no name”.
At first, they’re on autopilot. The “rhythm of the rail is all they feel”. As more baggage is loaded and more coal is thrown into the fire, they realize they’re on a “runaway train. Never coming back”.
The rail beneath them is their plane of reality. They don’t operate the switch. Switching tracks is reserved for The One-Percenters, The Annunaki, the Illuminati, The New World Order, The White Man, The Man Behind the Curtain, or The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. The average meat-suited consciousness is stuck on course, like, well, like they’re on rails.
The average pi-pedal automaton is going “the wrong way on a one-way track”. If left unchecked they will “be going off of the rails on a crazy train”.
That’s why I won’t be hearing any new Chris Cornell albums. K.C. won’t be getting lyrically raped (again. By a friend). And he’s “not the only one”. Scotty Weiland won’t be “flyin’ like an aeroplane” anymore and Amy Winehouse won’t be “feelin’ like a space brain”.
The list goes on, but why? These people had cash in their pockets. Isn’t the almighty dollar what we’re taught to attain from the time we emerge from our placental cocoons?
I know my freight train runs on the coal of pathetic paper bills. So how come Phillip Seymour Hoffman is sleeping on a bed made out of solid gold every night and then suddenly sticks a lethal dose in his arm?
Maybe the movie The Discovery can help us answer that. Spoiler alert. A scientist discovers proof that the afterlife is real so people start blowing themselves away. They want to get off this reality plane so badly they can’t wait for a natural death.
Are people feeling the pressure of an overloaded steam engine like the one in Back to the Future III? Are people tired of riding on the rails of this reality? Is it the baggage of a life lived that’s weighing them down?
What follows is a little bedtime story about a man “who had gone five hundred miles” on the “magic carpet made of steel”. His freight train had been picking up steam for years. You be the judge of what happened. You might not want to read this one to the kiddies.
David Crowley was an Iraq veteran with a plan to make a controversial film set in a dystopian future where civil liberties had been completely eroded. The film would be a warning about what could happen if the federal government continued unchecked in its procurement of unrestrained power (would another “train gaining speed” reference be too much here?) He secured funding to make the film and began production.
Five years later David, his wife, and young daughter were found in a grisly scene complete with bloody messages smeared on walls. An apparent murder-suicide conducted by David as his freight train derailed and took out two innocent people with it.
Maybe it was a shadow government conspiracy to halt the release of the film, Gray State. Maybe it was just the PTSD David contracted while murdering other sentient beings in the desert. I guess I’ll never know. All the internet research in the world is not going to get me to the truth. Besides, trains don’t run on seeking the truth. They’re just “mean machines drinkin’ gasoline” and as long as they’ve got “one chance left in a nine live cat” they’re always gonna do what they do best: “crash and burn”.
***Special thanks to GNR, Ozzy, Willie, Gord, Kurt and Soul Asylum for all the great lyrics referenced in this post***