Trains to Infinity

architectural photography of building

I often find myself chasing slumber on a nightly basis, with restlessness my constant companion. After searching for months on end for a solution, I happened upon a deceptively simple remedy. YouTube has a curious niche of videos that are endless loops of trains headed towards infinity through an endless rainstorm. They go on for many hours, fluid rhythm captured in the ceaseless rhythm of imaginary train rides through dark stormy landscapes passing by.

These train journeys are marked by no map. They have no destination, nor do they need any. As the world outside my real window submits to darkness, my room fills with the gentle glow of my phone screen, displaying an artistically styled room on a train car. A symphony of rain, composed in a tranquil key, plays upon the metallic roof of this imaginary train.

The landscape shifts perpetually in the view outside the imaginary room’s window. Forests of shadowy silhouettes alternate with fields shrouded in mist, and stations that flicker by, deserted and ghostly. These scenes, illuminated by sporadic streetlights, pass in a blur of serene monotony. The real world, with all its sharp edges and harsh lights, softens into watercolor memories that bleed into the edges of my drowsy consciousness.

This is no ordinary journey. Each video, a loop of tranquil continuity, becomes my vessel of escape from uneasy consciousness. The rhythmic clatter of the steel train syncs perfectly with the patter of raindrops, orchestrating a harmony that serves to lull the chaos of my mind. During these nocturnal voyages, sleep approaches me stealthily, slowly stealing away my consciousness. 

As my worries and concerns fade into the distance, I’m left adrift in a fluid world, where the only way to keep time is the steady beat of rain. Here, in the quiet company of rain and rail, sleep eventually finds me. Hidden in the rhythm of this ephemeral journey, I imagine myself cradled by the rocking of the carriage. I find peace at last in the embrace of an eternal, rain-soaked ride, albeit one that only exists between that peculiar line between the conscious and the dream world just beneath our unconscious. So, nightly I return to these hypnotic railways to nowhere. Tickets are free ticket, after all.

May 3, 2024

Amelia Desertsong is a former content marketing specialist turned essayist and creative nonfiction author. She writes articles on many niche hobbies and obscure curiosities, pretty much whatever tickles her fancy.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Back To Top