Author’s Note

Some dreams stay with me because of what happens in them.

Others stay because of how they make me feel after I wake up.

This poem belongs to the second kind.

Lately, I’ve found myself dreaming about places I’ve never lived but somehow recognize. Cities that feel familiar before I arrive. Streets that carry a strange sense of belonging. When I wake, there’s often a brief moment where those places feel more like home than the room I’m actually in.

That feeling became the heart of this piece.

The image of a phone call arrived almost immediately. Not as a literal phone, but as the unmistakable sensation that something beyond my current life keeps trying to get my attention. The title came from asking myself what that call would look like if it appeared on a screen.

Caller ID: Destiny.

The final stanza is probably the most honest part of the poem.

It’s not really about wanting to sleep.

It’s about wanting to wake up somewhere that feels like I’m finally living the life I’ve been moving toward for years.

Sometimes dreams aren’t an escape from reality.

Sometimes they’re reminders that another future still feels possible.

— Rowan Evans

Caller ID: Destiny
Poetry by Rowan Evans

As the haze of sleep
finally leaves,
I find myself missing
the dreams.

In my sleep
I walk the streets
in the places
that are calling me.

It’s like my phone is ringing
off the hook—

caller id reads:
Destiny.

Message received:
“Time to leave.”

I’m done begging
where I’m from—
to notice me.

I feel seen
in my dreams,
and invisible
in my streets.

So I’d rather sleep
than be awake
in this state.

Journey into the Hexverse…

[Crossing the Sea (No Metaphor Left Behind)]
A deeply personal poem about relocation, longing, and the realization that some truths naturally arrive through metaphor—even when we try to leave it behind.

[Only Waiting (No Metaphor Left Behind)]
The second poem in the No Metaphor Left Behind series, exploring the quiet ache of growing up in a place that never truly felt like home—and finally saying aloud what years of metaphor had been trying to express.

[Returning to My Bones]
Some dreams fade the moment we wake. Others leave behind emotions that linger long after reality returns. Returning to My Bones explores the strange grief of leaving a dream that felt real enough to matter.

[Before My Feet Touch the Floor]
What happens when your dreams feel more real than your waking life? Before My Feet Touch the Floor explores the strange grief of waking up, the lingering memory of dream selves, and the quiet question of which version of us is truly real.

If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]