I dreamed I was a train in a tunnel with no end

Not a passenger, not a conductor—just the iron body of it, rolling through a dark that didn’t get lighter, only deeper. The rails hummed a note I’d heard before, somewhere between a freight whistle and a child’s lullaby. I kept going because stopping felt like forgetting how to breathe. When I woke, my mouth tasted like rust and salt. Not unpleasant. Just… familiar.