Author’s Note

Some dreams feel less like fantasy and more like memory.

Not literal memory—something stranger than that.

A feeling. A pull. A version of yourself that already exists somewhere ahead of you, waiting to be caught up to.

I’ve written a lot about displacement, longing, and feeling emotionally out of sync with the place I was born into. But this piece isn’t rooted in resentment. It’s quieter than that.

This poem came from the feeling of seeing glimpses of alignment before you’ve fully arrived there yet.

The strange comfort of closing your eyes and feeling more connected to yourself in dreams than you do while awake.

Not because sleep is escape— but because sometimes dreams reveal the shape of what your heart has been reaching toward all along.

— Rowan Evans

Memories From a Life Yet to Come
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I close my eyes—
hear the crashing waves,
taste the salt on my lips,
feel the wind in my hair.

I feel like I’m floating—
even lying in bed.

When I close my eyes—
I travel in my head.

It’s like I remember things
I haven’t lived yet.
Memories from a life
yet to come.

I see the life
I want to lead,
while I live the life
I want to leave.

Not because I hate it.

I’m just misaligned.
A little off-center,
a little out of sync.

It’s like I follow the waves,
because I was never meant
for this shore.

Awake is the nightmare,
asleep is when I open my eyes,
and I can see the streets—

where my life
will finally align.

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