Heels on railway tracks

My most recent dream saw me walking on railway tracks.

I would have said they were the ones at Bukit Timah, the ones where I'd gone with the one I called the flower--but the tracks there had been broken off, pieces by pieces, and couldn't have been the same ones I'd walked my whole dream.

It was a long walk, all alone, in my heels because I definitely was not wearing anything flat-soled. A red dress or skirt, something flared, because when the wind blew I caught a glimpse of a little fabric below my waist being lifted, and felt the cold against my legs.

I'm not entirely sure if those tracks were completely abandoned or still in use.

If they'd been abandoned, then it must have been the end of the world, or at least this country must have gone to shit, because the MRT lines are the spine of its public transport. I've grown to believe that a world where Singapore doesn't have its MRT system working must be a dead universe.

And if the railway tracks were still in use, then there had been the possibility of a train coming along, hitting me, dragging parts of me beneath its wheels.

Either way, ...how peaceful.