Empty Jail Cell

Dreams Unfolding

I’m visiting an empty jail cell with another guy who is interested in searching for a message.  The cell is in the basement, the walls made of stone with small slit windows at ground level near the ceiling.  The walls are covered with messages and grafitti.  The guy asks me to hoist him so he can look at the writing on a beam that supports the ceiling.  I clasp my hands and he steps up.  From his reaction, I can tell he’s found the note he was searching for.

my response:

The cell seems a relic of torment, as the passageways at Ellis Island still seem to speak of the hope that traveled through there.  Much of the graffiti expresses rage and the frustration of the inmates it held.  Though i do not know what the message we are seeking says, it is clear that unlike the rough and abusive language on the walls, this note was concealed.  The man I’m with knew where to find it.  It reminds me of The Count of Monte Cristo, the association being that it provides a clue to finding the hidden treasure. 

My thoughts are this: what does the place where we repress things look like?  What would it be like to visit those sealed off areas of our souls after the contents they have held have been released?