Echos In The Rain

The rain stopped. But so did the dream. In the end, it was as if it never happened. If none of it was real, is there a point of remembering? Is it the memories trapping me or myself?
This is a collection of short pieces of writings created in the middle of the night during sudden mood swings, all somewhat related to rainy days or endless fields or train stations...or maybe something more.
Theres no particular order so enjoy :)