As I drift off to sleep I hear voices
like a radio playing, softly
in another room
just below
the threshold of understanding
In the morning
the voices are gone.
There is no radio
playing anywhere in the house
and so I go
about my day
Each night I listen
but I can never, quite hear
enough
to understand
and I cannot remember my dreams
This is written for the Sunday mini-prompt at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, where we have been asked to think and write about hearing voices.
In Other Words 
but I can never, quite hear
enough
to understand
… you’ve put that so well.
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just below
the threshold of understanding
Voices in a dream can never be understood much less remembered. Rightly so Other Mary!
Hank
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I feel this so much… sometimes I think there are nightmares set on repeat, and if I just remembered them they would cease to come…
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Very much captures how I feel these days–the music I want to hear isn’t playing, and silence or even worse, puerile earworms, seem to be all that invades my brain. This has a great sense of wistfulness, Mary. Especially those last lines.
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me either. spot-on ~
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I like the idea of voices in other rooms, like a radio, as one drifts off to sleep…….
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You are hearing the voices of your dreams before they start! Lovey thought!
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Love this! So very stirring!
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The various meanings of half life are quite palpable here–and the tinnitus of voices! Thank you, Mary–it is an incidental type of poem and a lovely one. k.
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Love the ending. It reads like that sigh that leaves our lips in the morning, right after we realized that we can’t remember what we dreamed.
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Mary, your nighty-night fairy is a tease. This is so frustrating, especially the not being able to remember dreams. Your narrative was just right for shoing that.
I generally don’t hear things except for the ringing in my ears.
..
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Sometimes a murmur is more than enough to write in the foggy ink of dreams. What do we know of those voices, anyway? For me, it’s just an act of attention — I try to listen, and by that trying, all sorts of dimensions get closer. A poem usually suffices for that attempt, and keeps the door cracked for more. You caught the near-but-far quality of voices at the threshold so well.
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Thank you Brendan. Great prompt. I loved reading about all the voices of resistance and hope your prompt generated.
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Unable to hear the words is as frustrating as awakening from a dream, unable to recreate it in your conscious mind. Nicely penned, Mary.
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But then remembering dreams is a mixed blessing.
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True – it could go either way.
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