He awoke from the nightmare with a start to the sound of the squealing of airbrakes and the chuffing protestations of the 1:19 for Grand Central pulling in to the little Connecticut one-horse railroad station. He grabbed his Dreadnought case and hoisted it onto the car, dragged it down the aisle to a velour-covered commuter seat and sank down, bemused by the dream and its myriad layers of possible meaning. Nometatalk! He laughed. He would have to tellLaura all about it when he got back to their coldwater flat in Greenwich Village. Damn these small town gigs, anyway, he thought drowsily. He watched the October countryside roll by as the New Haven railroad bore him swiftly towards a destiny he could not possibly have imagined.