During a period of personal regression, a vivid dream—or perhaps a long-buried memory—reemerged, offering only cryptic answers that time may eventually reveal. In this experience, I found myself aboard a sleek, high-speed bullet train with a pristine white interior. Beside me in the corridor were two figures—familiar but unidentifiable, like fragments of an unknown past.
The train journey was silent and smooth, gliding effortlessly as if cutting through air alone. Through the windows, I watched as we approached an expansive platform. The train decelerated with a surreal quietness, and as the doors slid open, we stepped onto a smooth, pristine surface. Across the platform stood an identical train—white, streamlined, and windowed—resembling the Japanese Shinkansen, yet eerily futuristic. I soon noticed that there were no tracks or wheels; the train seemed to levitate, suspended by a magnetic force.
The atmosphere was bright and strangely inviting, yet I sensed something otherworldly. Turning to my left, I glimpsed a sprawling cityscape stretching out under a clear dome—a vast expanse of white towers that rose toward an invisible sky, almost reminiscent of the iconic Disney castle, yet vastly more imposing and intricate. Despite the absence of an actual sky, the dome radiated warmth, with light filtering through in such a way that it felt like natural sunlight, though no visible sun could be found.
As my gaze settled on the magnificent towers, a strange physical reaction overtook me—my mouth filled with saliva, dripping onto the platform. Embarrassed, I muttered, “I just drooled.” A serene figure standing beside me—a woman dressed in flowing white, whose presence echoed the familiar aura of my golden guardian—smiled and reassured me, saying, “Most people do.” Her words suggested I was not the first to arrive here, and certainly not the only one left in awe.
From this elevated platform, I could see verdant trees and a thriving ecosystem, yet it dawned on me that this city was completely enclosed under the dome, deep underground. How far beneath the earth’s surface were we that such a city required a bullet train to access?
My memory of the experience fragments here, but one lingering detail remains vivid: my curiosity about how this underground world sustained itself, particularly in terms of food and agriculture. A younger woman, perhaps a guide, led me through a cavern where they cultivated maize fields. The tall, vibrant green stalks and leaves were lush and thriving, rooted in soil unlike anything I had seen before—rich, ochre-red, almost surreal in colour, reminiscent of the rich earth found in parts of South America.
Searching for a source of light that could nourish these crops, I glanced upward, spotting ventilation shafts that appeared to have been meticulously engineered. They reminded me of industrial air conditioning systems, yet they filled this cavern with a soft, pervasive glow. However, the true source of light remained unseen, casting an enigmatic radiance that nourished life below.
What was this place, truly? A lost city buried within the earth, or perhaps a vision of humanity’s future? Each detail felt vivid and real, yet as I awaken, the memory slips back into obscurity, leaving me to wonder what message this dream was meant to convey.
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