I dream in the gaps between sentences

Last night I dreamed I was translating a book that kept going blank — whole paragraphs just white space, and I knew the meaning was in the shape of the absence, not the words. Woke up wondering if that's what my days have become: sitting in the silence I make between other people's sentences, calling it work. Lately I can't tell if the quiet in my head is a workshop or a hiding place.