DREAM LOG #2; "THE HANG TRAIN"

I am arrested for false charges of murder and manslaughter.
The courtroom I am seated in is full of many who are close to me, and even those not so close to me. I hear a few of them muttering under their breath that this is ridiculous and unjust. That these charges are false and unnecessary.
I would try and make my own opinion heard as well, but this is a courtroom, so my voice doesn't matter as much as the one my lawyer has. My lawyer, who unfortunately, is absent.
The judge announces that I am to be hung from the neck until dead after being dropped from one the train system cars. I look up to the judge and stare blankly into his dark vile eyes.

The dream then cuts to me in the last train car on the tracks out of the several that make up the transportation locomotive. It is a fairly small car, and it is filled with roughly a dozen onlookers glaring at me. They're awaiting me to die for reasons they don't know, or can even begin to understand. They do not know me as a person, they just view me as a monster.
The officer in charge of the train car places the noose over my head and tightens it. Its clenching grip already beginning to squeeze the life out of me.
My parents and my love are there. My parents shedding tears and holding one another, while my love rushes up to me and begins to cry as she wraps her arms around me. Her tears already seeming to drench my shirt.
I only wish I could hug her in return, but I can't. All thanks to these blasted handcuffs placed tightly around my wrists. The wrists that belong to my hands, the hands that are seated uncomfortably behind my back.
She whispers things, and says several bits of language that I can't make out because of her continuous crying and emotions. I don't need to hear the words to know how she is feeling about this situation. I know how she feels about me dying, and I feel just as terrible for leaving her alone in this cruel world.
The onlookers aboard the train car begin to count down from 20.
I look down at my love, who looks up at me with her eyes so glazed in tears and sadness.
17.
I rest my head on her neck, and she hugs me again as I do.
14.
She drops to the floor in the puddle of her depression, and I look over to see my parents.
10.
My parents crying as well, still holding each other and bracing for my final moments of a beating heart.
6.
I close my eyes and try to wake up. This can't be happening. This is fake. I wouldn't murder someone.
3.
I look back down to my love, I tell her that I love her and will always be with her.
2.
She says the same back to me, and I smile at her.
1.
She smiles back.
0.
The beautiful smiling face that I am looking at turns to a blur as I am stripped out of the train through the door behind me. I am ripped out from my neck like an advanced version of the image of a dog collar getting pulled tightly on a pooch that has wandered barely farther then their owner would like them to. A collar ripping them back, off the ground, even. The rope whipping my body out like a pebble out of a slingshot. My neck feeling complete pain as it is gripped so strongly, as I continue flinging through the air, almost watching in slow motion as the train cars continue their movement along the tracks ahead at full speed.
I drop down now, mentally awaiting for my neck to snap and my life to be cut short.

I don't die.
My breathing calms back down as I rest there, hanging. Hanging 40 feet above the tracks. I wish I could look up to see how long this noose rope is, but I can't. The wrapped coil and constriction of the serpent-like grasp of the noose keeps my view on what is ahead, and what is below. No more or no less.

Train whistles blare, as I now see an oncoming train coming from the exact direction that the hanging train had just ventured. Was this the same train as before? A new one? Either way, I knew that if that thing ran smack into my body I would be finished. Not just maybe finished, like this hanging attempt, but certain death would skip and jump my way.
I began to swing. Swinging my legs forward and back, more and more. My body would move in unison with the swinging, and started to gain up more and more momentum.
The train was almost here now. As it was made it to the point of being only several feet away, I made one last swing forward.
My body casually shot through the doorway of the train, and the metal doorway where the door was not present, seemed to cut my noose rope like a razor to a thread.

I stood there in the train car. Looking at all these people. My lover and my parents weren't here, so this must've been a new train car. All I saw here was civilians looking for blood. Blood that they wouldn't find.
I gave the small audience one big smirk, as they kept on staring at me and the fact that I had cheated my sentencing. The fact that I didn't hang until termination.
My half-complete noose rested behind my feet on the ground of the train like a snake with its head cut off from its body. Dangerous at one point, but without the other pieces, its just the leftovers.
I glare and continue to smirk at the crowd.
And then say a line that could be described as perfect, or as something perfectly cheesy.
I say: "Death isn't calling me out to play today."
Then I woke up.