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Description
I stepped on the train, on my way from San Francisco back to the East Bay. The car was nearly empty, with plenty of room for him to sit -he could have sat anywhere on the car, and would not have been near anyone- but he stood, right hand holding the railing, left hand wrapped around a cane which seemed to hold less of his weight than it should have. His cream colored camel hair coat matched the color of his brimmed hat. His black shoes were shiny, polished to an otherworldly sheen, and his grey slacks held the sharpest lines that I had ever seen in clothing. I watched him all the way past West Oakland, staring out the window at what could have only been the cityscapes and rooftops of suburbs passing by. At one point, he turned and looked directly at me, and I pretended to be asleep. I half opened my eyes to see if he was still looking at me, to see that he had turned his body to face me, and was staring intently at me. I heard the voice of my own thoughts "So you want to know who I am? I stay hidden, and I protect you people." I didn't know where that thought had come from, and I searched his eyes, I saw the images in my head, of this short latin man walking through darkness, cane held near the middle , like a baton, or a tool of sorts. In what must have been some kind of quasi-hallucination, I saw him draw a stainless steel .45 Colt Commander out of his jacket, cock it, and continue on, in a a strange pillar of light. There was a horrible tapping, banging, whirring, scraping. Out of the darkness the first of them came. The giant immunization robots. He fought them, and defeated them all, then walked back into the darkness. When I shook the inner movie screen loose, I looked back up at him. He nodded slowly, holding my gaze for another long moment before turning back to the windows, to gaze out over the rooftops. Two stops later, I got off and walked home. Until now, I never told anyone of this. That day, I just started drawing what I saw, and I keep working on it, bit by bit, whenever I have those nightmares.

Somehow, working on this drawing helps to calm me down, and feels me with a feeling of safety. I imagine that the man in the camel hair coat is keeping us safe and ignorant of horrors that we would not believe existed.

I don't know what I will do, or what will happen when this drawing is complete.

Description
I stepped on the train, on my way from San Francisco back to the East Bay. The car was nearly empty, with plenty of room for him to sit -he could have sat anywhere on the car, and would not have been near anyone- but he stood, right hand holding the railing, left hand wrapped around a cane which seemed to hold less of his weight than it should have. His cream colored camel hair coat matched the color of his brimmed hat. His black shoes were shiny, polished to an otherworldly sheen, and his grey slacks held the sharpest lines that I had ever seen in clothing. I watched him all the way past West Oakland, staring out the window at what could have only been the cityscapes and rooftops of suburbs passing by. At one point, he turned and looked directly at me, and I pretended to be asleep. I half opened my eyes to see if he was still looking at me, to see that he had turned his body to face me, and was staring intently at me. I heard the voice of my own thoughts "So you want to know who I am? I stay hidden, and I protect you people." I didn't know where that thought had come from, and I searched his eyes, I saw the images in my head, of this short latin man walking through darkness, cane held near the middle , like a baton, or a tool of sorts. In what must have been some kind of quasi-hallucination, I saw him draw a stainless steel .45 Colt Commander out of his jacket, cock it, and continue on, in a a strange pillar of light. There was a horrible tapping, banging, whirring, scraping. Out of the darkness the first of them came. The giant immunization robots. He fought them, and defeated them all, then walked back into the darkness. When I shook the inner movie screen loose, I looked back up at him. He nodded slowly, holding my gaze for another long moment before turning back to the windows, to gaze out over the rooftops. Two stops later, I got off and walked home. Until now, I never told anyone of this. That day, I just started drawing what I saw, and I keep working on it, bit by bit, whenever I have those nightmares.

Somehow, working on this drawing helps to calm me down, and feels me with a feeling of safety. I imagine that the man in the camel hair coat is keeping us safe and ignorant of horrors that we would not believe existed.

I don't know what I will do, or what will happen when this drawing is complete.