🚪 Why Liminal Spaces Feel Like Home

Empty hallways.

Parking lots at night.

Airports at 3 a.m.

Abandoned malls, flickering neon signs, stairwells that go nowhere.

We call them liminal spaces — places that exist between two states,

never meant to be permanent.

And yet, they haunt us.

More than that: they comfort us.

Why?

Why do these nowhere-places feel like somewhere to so many people?

At The Yume Collective, we ask questions like that constantly.

Not to solve them. But to sit in them.

1. What Is a Liminal Space?

The word liminal comes from the Latin “limen,” meaning threshold — a place of transition.

Examples:

A school hallway after everyone’s gone

A hotel lobby you’ll never return to

A stairwell you don’t remember walking through

They’re not destinations.

They’re in-between zones — holding spaces between states of being.

And that’s exactly why they hit so deep.

2. The Aesthetic of Absence

Liminal spaces are visually strange:

Slightly outdated decor

Empty chairs

Harsh fluorescent lighting

Too clean, or eerily still

They feel like the set of something that already ended.

Or maybe hasn’t started yet.

There’s a reason so many people online obsess over these images.

It’s not just nostalgia — it’s something deeper.

They look like how uncertainty feels.

3. Between Childhood and Adulthood

Liminal space doesn’t just describe architecture.

It describes emotion.

A lot of us are stuck between phases:

Too old to go back

Not sure how to go forward

Existing in the blur

These places echo that.

They mirror the moments where life isn’t clear yet —

where identity hasn’t landed.

So walking into a liminal space feels like stepping into your own timeline, paused.

And for once, that stillness feels like home.

4. The Comfort of Being Unseen

There’s peace in a place where you’re not expected to perform.

Liminal spaces don’t ask anything of you.

They just exist.

Blank.

Still.

Available for projection.

You can cry in an empty hallway.

You can breathe in a stairwell no one uses.

You can feel like a ghost — and somehow that feels more real than real life.

5. Memory Without Context

Sometimes, liminal spaces make you feel:

“I’ve been here before… but I haven’t.”

That’s because they look like the idea of places from your past —

not exact memories, but emotional replicas.

Your brain fills in the blanks.

The hum of the lights = your old school

The echo = your childhood home at night

The carpet = a dentist office you visited once, maybe

Liminal spaces are blank enough to let your memories play back,

but distorted enough to keep them dreamlike.

6. Art That Lives in the Threshold

At The Yume Collective, our sound lives in liminal energy:

Tracks that loop like elevators

Textures that echo like hallways

Pads that feel like fog in a hotel lobby at 4 a.m.

We don’t just write music —

we build atmospheres that you can exist inside of

when nowhere else feels right.

Because we know:

Some feelings don’t belong in the light.

Some healing only happens in transition.

Some peace only exists in the between.

7. Why You Might Be a Liminal Person

You know the feeling.

You don't belong here, but not quite anywhere else either.

You're always waiting for the next chapter.

You feel most yourself in strange, empty places.

That's not dysfunction.

That's liminality.

And once you see it, you realize:

Liminal spaces aren’t eerie.

They’re honest.

They don’t pretend to be finished.

Neither do you.

🌐 Step Into the In-Between With The Yume Collective

If you've ever found yourself staring at a flickering vending machine light,

feeling unexpectedly emotional in a parking garage,

or walking alone through a hallway that makes you feel seen —

you already understand what we make.

📩 Email: [email protected]

📸 Instagram: @the.yume.collective

🎧 Spotify: open.spotify.com/user/31ahlk2hcj5xoqgq73sdkycogvza

💬 Discord: discord.gg/xnFxqSJ66y

You are not lost.

You’re just in the hallway.

And that’s where the real you starts to emerge.

— The Yume Collective