The train was coming right for me.

I was flying, floating around the moon, gasping for air without a care in the world, and a train was coming toward me. Jets of fire exploded behind it, green and blue streaks denting the sides of the cars in perfect impression of outer space.

No matter, I thought. Water.

And there was water, and I swam. And the train dissolved, made of sugar, creating particularly tasty water, which I then drank to my heart’s content.

Now the train was reforming inside of me, spurting flame out of my ears. The craters of the moon seemed to draw ever closer, and as the blackness grabbed me in its teeth and licked my backside, I saw the monster’s stomach.

The train split off from me, taking my left side with it. Water, I thought again, but this time there was ice, and I decided to simply sit in the darkness, waiting for it to melt, to disappear, and take me with it.