«Dreams of Trains.» The Search for Meaning

Although it had been nominated for four Oscars, the acclaimed film Dreams of Trains Netflix's film didn't win any awards at the ceremony on March 15. However, I asked Professor Rocío Montuenga to share her thoughts on this magnificent film with us. Here is what she wrote:

“During my college years, in Jaime Nubiola’s Philosophy of Language classes, I gained an insight that time has continued to confirm: there are realities that go beyond what can be verified. If we were to divide the world into that which can be verified and that which eludes sensory experience, on one side would be science, the tangible, and everything that can be explained; on the other, the universe of the ineffable. That realm of which, as Ludwig Wittgenstein wrote in his A Logico-Philosophical Treatise, ‘Whereof one cannot speak, one must remain silent’.

And yet, it is precisely there that some of the most crucial questions of existence lie. Love, suffering, beauty, God, hope, and the meaning of life can hardly be reduced to formulas or empirical verifications. They are realities that transcend us and, precisely for that reason, define us.

Questions such as ‘What is the meaning of my life?’, ‘Is there a purpose that can bring coherence to my decisions, my losses, and my longings?’, or ‘Why am I here?’ inevitably arise. Sooner or later, every human being faces these questions—not because they expect definitive answers, but because living means learning to live with mystery.

The Fragility of Life

These issues lie silently within the protagonist of Dreams of Trains (Train Dreams, 2025), a man whose life seems marked by loss and by the search for a sense of cohesion that would give his story a sense of unity. 

The film, directed by Clint Bentley and based on the novel by Denis Johnson, moves between the western and rural drama, with the unhurried pace of the slow cinema. More than just a genre story, it is a meditation on the mystery of meaninglessness and the ceaseless—and profoundly human—search for meaning.

From the very first bars, Dreams of Trains places the viewer alongside the voice in off from a narrator who tells the story of Robert Grainier, a laborer in the American West who, in the early 20th century, worked on the construction of the railroad. Orphaned as a child, he learned all too soon that life can be cut short without warning.

On the railroad, the unjust death of a fellow immigrant—exploited and despised for not belonging to the world of white American men—leaves a silent mark on him that is difficult to erase. 

The pain then takes root as a question, even in the form of recurring dreams in which his friend’s presence haunts him. Since then, Robert seems to live with a persistent question: why does life inflict pain in ways that are so difficult to understand?.

However, the film also shows that the meaning of life rarely appears as an abstract idea or as something that organizes a person’s life in a linear fashion; rather, it bursts onto the scene embodied in specific people, in glances, and in gestures. In Robert’s case, that first anchor comes through Gladys, whose company restores a sense of reconciliation with life. 

Love, the prospect of a home, and the arrival of his daughter bring an unexpected sense of fulfillment to his harsh existence. Happiness is found not so much in the where, when, or how, but in the with whom. 

Meaning and Loss

Here, it is impossible not to think of Viktor Frankl’s central exploration in Man in search of meaning. Frankl argues that human beings find meaning in three ways: through work or a task, through love and beauty—the ‘gift received’—and, finally, in suffering that is willingly accepted. 

Robert’s journey seems to follow, almost without his realizing it, these three paths: his work on the railroad and as a logger, the love of Gladys and his daughter, and later, the devastating experience of loss. Just when an abyss of meaninglessness seems to open up, the story suggests—with a delicacy reminiscent of Terrence Malick’s films—that even pain can slowly be transformed into a sacred place imbued with meaning.

To chronicle this journey of a broken heart—marked by grief, fragility, and the transience of life—Bentley turns to nature as a mirror and a source of continuity. Robert’s life is interwoven with images of wood, axes, falling logs, and forests cleared by human intervention. But also with flowing rivers, birds soaring over the landscape, flowers blooming in the open, nighttime bonfires, and sunsets that bathe the mountains of the American heartland in a sense of calm. 

Nature here is not merely a backdrop, but a living presence that suggests transformation, cycles, and permanence amid change.

Robert Grainier’s grief over the void left by his losses does not cause him to withdraw into himself, but rather, paradoxically, opens him up to a deeper understanding of life in all its uncertainty. Even in the midst of suffering, his existence is not reduced to what he has lost, but remains permeated by what he has received and what he has been able to give: his work, his presence, his friendship, his quiet love, and his ability to sustain the lives of others through discreet gestures.

Learning to receive

Perhaps this hints at a crucial insight: that not all meaning is constructed, but is also received. Life is not limited to what we do or achieve, but also to what we receive and how we receive it. And in that acceptance—of both the luminous and the wounded—a deeper form of meaning emerges.

In this vein, human beings often fail to find meaning because they reduce it to what they do, what they have, or what they produce. However, existence seems to transcend those limits: it cannot be explained solely in terms of action, but also in terms of reception.

The trees that appear in Dreams of Trains They serve here as a particularly eloquent metaphor. The felled tree trunk and the standing tree trunk coexist in the same landscape, reminding us that life simultaneously encompasses what is born, what falls, and what remains. In this coexistence of opposites, a deeper understanding of existence is implied: not as domination, but as acceptance of its own rhythm.

From this perspective, life is justified not only by what happens to us or what we achieve, but also by what we receive and by what we are able to give back selflessly from our very being in the present moment. In that selfless exchange, a deeper form of meaning emerges. And perhaps it is there—in a serene gratitude for what we have experienced—that human beings find the strength to continue inhabiting the mystery of existence.”.