Over there is the place where I harbor my fugitive emotions. The ones that never got expressed because I was too Busy, or too Bad Ass, or too Frozen. They're all over actually, just waiting to wreak havoc in tissues throughout my body. A sore muscle here, a tight tendon there. Scars and so on.
All the experiences, the good and the bad are jumbled in together, building my inner landscape.
Peering deeper I see the faceless ones that want to remain hidden. They burrow down, not wanting to be seen. They keep me hidden, and invisible. They keep me from seeing myself. They keep me from feeding myself, from expressing myself, from contributing anything of value, lest it draw attention to me. They keep me anonymous and "safe". They would be happiest if I would just stay asleep.
In fact after that, a lot of my more tiresome memories stopped gnawing at me, grew up and moved out. And high time, too. How long can you be expected to support a house full of emotions and memories all feeding on your energy and draining your resources--raising a rumpus and generally just messin' up the place? I ask you.