Fell asleep on the TTC (Toronto subway) one time while we were travelling along a particularly old part of the tunnels.
I was dozing and staying kind of peripherally aware of my surroundings. Late at night, old model of subway car. One or two people at the other end of the car, in one of the cars far down the line away from the driver, second or third from the rear car.
Going through a section of tunnel, in the dark between one light and the next, I suddenly felt… surrounded. My eyes were closed, and for a second or two I distinctly felt the sensation of hands. All over my body, like I was passing through a crowd of people all grabbing at my arms, my legs, my hair. Cold, like holding your hands in your armpits on a winter day when you forget your gloves. Reaching, grasping like pickpockets. Desperate somehow, like the eyes of a scared animal.
The sensation fled as swiftly as it arrived, either a result of passing beyond an area of influence, or a symptom of leaving a particular state of mind. I opened my eyes, and it was gone.
I don’t know how many lost souls search for answers along those tracks, hoping for relief, warmth, company, safety. I’ve seen many homeless folk that catch a few minutes of sleep on those cars late at night; I wonder how many others travel unseen.
Fell asleep on the TTC (Toronto subway) one time while we were travelling along a particularly old part of the tunnels.
I was dozing and staying kind of peripherally aware of my surroundings. Late at night, old model of subway car. One or two people at the other end of the car, in one of the cars far down the line away from the driver, second or third from the rear car.
Going through a section of tunnel, in the dark between one light and the next, I suddenly felt… surrounded. My eyes were closed, and for a second or two I distinctly felt the sensation of hands. All over my body, like I was passing through a crowd of people all grabbing at my arms, my legs, my hair. Cold, like holding your hands in your armpits on a winter day when you forget your gloves. Reaching, grasping like pickpockets. Desperate somehow, like the eyes of a scared animal.
The sensation fled as swiftly as it arrived, either a result of passing beyond an area of influence, or a symptom of leaving a particular state of mind. I opened my eyes, and it was gone.
I don’t know how many lost souls search for answers along those tracks, hoping for relief, warmth, company, safety. I’ve seen many homeless folk that catch a few minutes of sleep on those cars late at night; I wonder how many others travel unseen.
I never fell asleep on the subway again.