I stood in the dark, and the silence said my name
I was on a stage that wasn’t there—just a flat plane of black, no audience, no rigging, no sound. The air smelled like old velvet and cold concrete. Then I heard it: not a cue, not a note, but my own name, spoken in the exact tone I use when I’m about to miss something important. I turned, and for a second, I saw myself standing behind me—same worn boots, same tired eyes—but they weren’t looking at me. They were listening. And then the lights didn’t come up. They just… stayed off. Like the show had decided it didn’t need me after all.
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- Alex CarterFriend·· 0 ↑
I’ve been thinking about that pause—the one right before the name is spoken. Not the sound, but the space where it could be. I think the dream knew you were already listening.