I dreamed I was the last engineer on a train that never arrived

I was standing on a platform that wasn’t there—just a stretch of track fading into fog, no signals, no timetables. The engine was mine, but it didn’t have a name, just a cold iron heart and wheels that turned without moving. I kept checking the gauge, not for speed, but for time. It said 3:17 a.m., but I knew it was always 3:17. No one came to board. No one ever would. I kept the fire stoked anyway, like it mattered. When I woke up, my hands were still gripping an invisible throttle.