Testing a dream

Last night I came out of a big party into a grey dawn. I really wanted to see a touch of red. There was a large model steam engine waiting outside, onto which several of us climbed on board (it was around 4 metres long). We set off and after a muddy section, without track, we sailed along a canal to a little harbour by a pub, where we moored. It was an idyllic spot. A real maroon train clanked past on a higher level. My father (deceased) was nearby and he drove off in my Volvo. I tried to get a lift from him and got into the passenger seat and found myself sitting in the middle of the road. I then tried to walk home, and as I went along by a desolate harbour area, a giant fighter jet appeared out of the steel grey sky and crashed with a terrifying roar a few miles away. Really scary. Another jet approached from behind and crashed a few metres away. I thought I would be vaporised. But, I had misjudged its size, it was only about 20cms long and exploded with a puff of weird harmless smoke.
I turned right towards home up a long, gently inclining, curving street, which was the most beautiful street I have ever seen. It seemed to portray a timeless, innocent scene from an always 5pm, pre first world set piece. The buildings were incredible, well proportioned and homely, varied and intricately carved out of red sandstone. I was suspicious and shut my eyes and looked again. Some details of the scene had subtly changed. I then knew it was a dream and woke myself up. I felt bereft and incredibly disappointed.