Had an incredibly odd one last night...
I was stuck somewhere in South Africa wanting to return to London but, at the very last minute, my flight had been cancelled. So, in this mysterious dream-based reality, the most logical option was for there to be a "plane replacement train".
Alas, I boarded the train - which externally was grey and battered, but internally similar to the old Class 423 - and off we departed towards London.
As we left this unknown city, we climbed an impossibly steep gradient (which forced the train almost vertically) to the top of the plains, and a whole abundance of wildlife made itself known. There were zebras, giraffes, all just meters from the open, yet caged up, train windows.
After around an hour of this unexpected safari, we descended back down into this tiny, remote - almost unreachable - and very run-down town. The passenger opposite me exclaimed how she needed to use the toilet, so darted off to use the facilities at the station.
Five minutes later, she returns and looks me dead in the eye, and mutters something I assumed was descriptive of the residents of this town, "Biggest. Regret. Of. My. Life. They all look normal, just like tiny sleeping men, but if you dare interact with them, if you dare even do so much as look at them..."
Very shortly after leaving this town, and climbing back up onto the plains, the guard made an announcement saying that any passengers travelling in a compartment were to close their curtains and do not attempt to look outside, and that those who were seated in the standard seats were... doomed(?!)
He claimed that at all of our stops in rural Africa, we would encounter more and more of these "tribal types" who weren't too fond of outsiders, and that the best option was to pretend to be asleep until we reached Frankfurt, Germany.
At this point, I remember becoming very interested in a news article on my phone about "plane replacement buses" this week between Manhattan and London using the "brand new undersea road tunnels", operated with typical New York City buses, and how that would've been their first time appearing in London.
Needless to say, I didn't make it to Frankfurt. Not because I wasn't pretending to be asleep... but because the train broke down. By this point, we had reached another sizable South African city, and we were all mercilessly chucked off and told to wait six hours in the dark for the next one.
Upon exiting the station, the whole place was carnage, masses of people rioting and attacking each other, helpless police being outnumbered and thus rendered useless. It was like something out of The Purge.
Not knowing where else to go, I hesitantly returned to the station, but by some wild miracle, there was a Southern Class 455 standing at one of the platforms, the screen at the front saying "Kensal Rise". I boarded, and pretended I was asleep all the way back.