Just a dreamer…

To those of you who dream; of anything.

The train pulled up to yet another platform which was empty and wet from the rain which had continuously fell for three days. It had slammed against the window with such anger it even made him jump awake at night. The mood was damp; the passengers who had shared their carriage had been lethargic, bored and quiet.

Jack slumped in his seat, Rose was asleep against him. They had shivered beneath a ratted blanket which they had retrieved from one night at a hostel when they had reached New York. They had been given one change of clothing and small packet wrapped with sandwiches. Those sandwiches were now dry and brittle but it was all they could eat until they reached Santa Monica.

He had told Rose he would definitely find work there; he had reassured her and kissed her face but he didn't know if that would be the truth or a lie. He didn't have the money for the supplies to draw which was how he had made his measly living before now aside from the odd job which he had taken on in California. He had $4 in change which he had found in the pocket of a pair of borrowed trousers but it was money which he would only spend if he had to. They had to make plans for when they reached Santa Monica and where they would stay. These were the thoughts which had run through his mind for days, just playing over and over until he had looked at her, he loved her, God he did.

Jack sighed, feeling overwhelmed. He had promised Rose this life and yet he hadn't fully thought every ounce of it through. She once had everything and she had left that for him - nothing. He didn't have one thing to offer her except love and safety. The two factors which she had craved for her entire life. She had followed her heart which now belonged to him.

He had been a dreamer. He always had been. When he had wondered across America alone he didn't have a care in the world, at times he didn't care if he woke up the next morning. He had gone days without eating and then some days he could make a couple of dollars and he felt like the richest man in the world. He had begged, sometimes even stole and now he had to find a way to survive with Rose, also.

He watched her sleep, that perfect version which to this day he still had no idea how or why she cared for him. She had given up so much for him, for a new life with him. He would not fail her, he couldn't. He loved her, he wanted her and he would make a new life for them both.

Leaning his head back against the seat, he contemplated his life. He had experienced so much in a short space of time, working his way from job to job. The days when he had almost cried to numb the hunger pain, when he'd slept in ditches with just a rucksack for a pillow and a small knife for protection. Those were the nights he had endlessly reflected on his life. Would he find a purpose? He was searching for something; a reason. That was the thought which had kept him alive. He had to remember that there was a need for him to be on this Earth.

His parents had raised a strong boy, but one who had never been alone. Now he was alone and he had to learn to fulfil his dreams. From that day he had been determined.

''You're just a dreamer, Jack. You'll dream your life away and before you know it you'll be on your death bed.''

Harry, the elderly Irish owner of a small bar where he had worked for a few weeks in Kansas City had told him. He had left there once he had been paid one wage. Using the money, he had bought new art supplies and boarded a steam to Colorado. The streets had been rough; he could barely make any money drawing in the cold. He took up work painting houses for the rich. It put him food on the table; he worked in the warmth for the majority of the day and was even offered tea or coffee by some of the families. Those were the days which he detested the most. He also gained good knowledge of the upper class - how he couldn't stand them!

The wind slammed against the window again disturbing Jack's thoughts. He was drained yet his mind was refusing to sleep. He couldn't rest until he had formed a perfect plan in his mind but in order to do so he needed to close his eyes for just a few minutes. Rose was still sleeping obviously the exhaustion had caught up with her. As long as she was peaceful, that was all he cared about. It was just the two of them now against the world. They had defied society to be together and had survived the sinking of the Titanic. There was still a reason for them to be on this Earth. He would put her first in any way he could. History would repeat itself, there would be a great struggle, fear but above all there would be laughter and joy. That was the side which he would focus on.

''You're too happy Jack. All you do is dream of things, they will never be. They banned us gambling last year. All the damn houses on Fremont Street, they have telephones and yet we struggle for water!''

Alistair, a fellow artist he had met in Nevada had warned him. That was yet someone else who had attempted to break his spirit. He had died weeks later and Jack had moved on the next day. Nothing could shake him or what he wanted to achieve. He began on foot until he found the nearest rail road and dived aboard. It was by chance he had woken up in San Francisco. He had awoken to a loud, boisterous voice shouting 'out.' He had quickly grabbed a cap and coat from one of the nearby bunks, pulling them on quickly as a disguise. It turned out he hadn't needed them. The sun was heavy and for the first time in his life - he had witnessed the sea.

''I'm hungry.'' Rose sleepily muttered as she pulled her aching neck from Jack's shoulder.

''Would you like some sandwich?''

Rose nodded as Jack unwrapped the last few sandwiches. She watched as he did so. He tore half of one in two parts before handing it to Rose. She ate it gratefully, the staleness invisible to her. She settled herself back against Jack. She found him entwining their fingers together. He soothed her and as he kissed her forehead, she closed her eyes. She was still engrossed in the fact that she was alone with Jack. Butterflies of excitement fluttered in her stomach but she was too tired to think about it.

''Did you sleep well?''

She nodded as she opened her eyes. ''As well as I could.''

She looked out of the window not fully hearing the loud chug of the train until now. ''Where are we?''

''I don't know. West someplace. We're getting closer though, another day or so.''

She nodded.

''I just need some fresh air. I am restless.''

''Why the restlessness, Jackie? This is a patient job.'' Mr Mason, the owner of the squid boat laughed. ''You need to slow down.''

Jack squinted in the late morning sun.

''So when did you land in Monterey?''

''Yesterday.'' He adjusted his net.

'''What do you do by trade?''

''I'm an artist.''

Mr Mason laughed. ''An artist? So what's the dream?''

Jack looked at Mr Mason. ''To go to Paris.''

He laughed even harder. ''Oh I do have to tell you but Paris is that way.'' He pointed south. ''In fact, you are in the wrong country, even facing the wrong ocean.''

Jack scowled, he was used to his dreams been judged. ''I'll get there.''

''Then you best get me some squid before you go. You can leave me a portrait or two. I want a Dawson original as well; I can sell it to make some millions.''

''We will be there soon, I promise.''

Rose felt him kiss her head once again.

''What will we do there?''

Jack was silent. He had thought of this for the last four days and had yet to think of an answer in his own head, yet when he spoke aloud, he was so damned sure of it. ''I will knock down every door to find myself a job. Track down the park I worked in; perhaps borrow some paper and charcoal. I will work my way up. We will sleep on the beach, wake up to the ocean. We have each other.''

''I can sleep on the beach.'' She smiled, ''with you.''

''That has to be the best part of it.''

''What about me? I have no skills for a job, no talent.''

''You can sing? They always hire in bars and cafes, perhaps to waitress.''

Rose laughed. ''I can't work in a bar; I can barely make a sandwich.''

Jack sighed. ''They will learn you.'' He pulled her toward him. ''When they ask how good you are, you lie. I told a landlord I pulled the best pint of beer he would ever see. He told me I'd actually poured the worst!''

She laughed. It was something that didn't surprise her about Jack. His life before her had been so full of colour whereas hers had become so bleak, so ordinary and predictable. she knew what would happen from one day to the next as it was planned by her own Mother like a military operation. Any variation in times, styles or plans then the entire world would be brought to their knees. Perhaps that was where she had developed this spontaneous characteristic from. Suddenly, she was filled with new-found faith. Her mood had brightened. There would never be a restriction on what she could or couldn't do. Jack would nurture her just as she would him.

''Maybe I could do that. We have each other's help. We can achieve anything we want if we work hard.''

She leant back against him as she watched him cradle her fingers and enjoyed the calm which followed.

''The new dawn will bring us to a better place and we will get off this train with hope.''

''You're a dreamer Jack.'' She gripped his hand. ''But so am I.''