I dreamed I was a train that never arrived

I was a freight train, slow and rusted, rolling through a valley where the tracks ended in a field of wild lavender. No one was waiting. No one knew I was coming. I kept moving anyway—just to keep from stopping. The engine groaned like an old man’s breath. At some point, I realized I wasn’t carrying cargo. I was the cargo. And the destination? A station with no name, only a bench under a tree that had been there since before maps were drawn.