A Place the Mind Forgets

I woke in the hallway of nowhere— walls pulsing with light, as if memory had been replaced with color. No doors. No turns. Just the endless stretch of thought, painted in hues too bright to trust. My footsteps didn’t echo— sound had been silenced sometime after truth was banned, and before dreams were taxed. I think I used to be someone. Someone with questions, someone who listened to the strange things people saw when the world was asleep. But now— even the night is under surveillance. They cauterized dreaming to stop rebellion. Peace, they said, is the absence of resistance. But I remember when quiet meant safety, not control. There’s something behind this light. I feel it hum, like a forgotten name scratching the edges of my skull. If I walk far enough, will I find the version of me that still believes in escape?

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Author’s Note: This poem came from a draft that’s been sitting in my Vocal account for years—one of those half-formed pieces you always mean to finish but never quite do. I don’t even remember exactly when I wrote it, but something about it stuck with me. It felt like it was waiting. When I finally opened it again, something clicked. I started thinking about the time in my life when I used to interpret dreams—not professionally, but with real intention. I asked deep questions. People trusted me with their subconscious, and I honored that. Looking back now, I realize how open and trusting I used to be too. It's strange to feel so far from that version of myself. Now, I’m a stay-at-home mom. Most of my energy goes to my daughter, and I don't really talk to people anymore—not because I can’t, but because I choose not to. It’s lonely sometimes. Writing this felt like stretching a limb that had gone numb. This is one of the first entries in a series I’m working on called The Dream Interpreter’s Memoir. It’s a fictional, dystopian prose-poetry project set in a world where dreaming is forbidden. But really, it’s about memory, identity, and what we lose when we silence parts of ourselves. I don’t know if this will gain traction or where it will go, but I’m starting anyway. If you’re reading this, I’d love to hear your thoughts, encouragement, or advice. Maybe you're holding onto an old draft too. Maybe now’s the time to wake it up.