You walk off your train into what you thought was going to be New York City. The bright yellow lights interfere with your vision. When you finally come to your senses you see a platform that resembles a factory. Tan plain walls, gray steps and a metal railing. That’s all you see, except for the few hundred people that seem to wear the same brown suits and carry the same black briefcases. You wiggle your way through the people trying to find the steps. When you finally make it up the steps you realize the platform was nothing compared to the main floor. The freshly waxed golden floors reflect the horrors above. Just like the platform the walls are tan. The shops surrounding the area are selling the same clothing, making no shop different from the next. The ticket booth is gray: gray metal bars, gray counters, and the people behind the desk with their gray, expressionless eyes. People swarm the large area, walking to trains or buying tickets. There are so many people, they seem to cover every inch of the floor, except they leave a barrier around the clock. It’s such an eloquent piece with its carved, gold base and four faces. Everyone seems to avoid the clock as if it were poisonous. And they could not handle the intoxicating beauty. Your eyes hurt from the ugly, plain building. You move your eyes towards the floor and you make your way to the door.

The buildings are as bright as the sun, with their blinding white paint and lack of windows. The buildings are plain and simple, but very tall. The architects must have made the buildings tall so even when you look up you are reminded of the ugly world below. You tear your eyes away from the buildings only to find the billboards. No pictures, no color and no photos. Only a white background with black font. The letters are dark and straight, as if they could not move around freely.
Suddenly you become very scared, you feel trapped. You turn a corner hoping to find a dead end. Instead you keep running and running the never ending alley. You feel enclosed with the white walls towering over you. The walls provide the alley with dark shadows. The darkness comforts you for a couple of seconds, until you realize the walls are blank. The walls have no graffiti anywhere not even a dot of paint, just slime oozing from the dumpsters onto the wall. It seems like every five feet there is a dumpster. Each one reeks of rotting food and diseased rats. Your footsteps echo in the long alley, making animals dart in every direction. They move so fast you can’t tell what they are, but you assume they are just mice. For after what seems like several minutes you see a glowing yellow square at the end of the alley. The square gets larger and larger and then finally you burst out of the alley, embracing the golden rays of sun.

Your eyes glance around taking in your surroundings. You conclude that you are in Time Square , but it looks nothing like the pictures. There is, however, a numerous amount of people walking through Time Square, but the faces of people are expressionless. They stare straight ahead. Everyone is wearing a suit and they seem to be walking in a synchronized matter. Everyone is just so…..so professional. It is so quiet, you can hear your own breathing. The screens, where are the screens? You think to yourself. You look around frantically, and then you realize they aren’t here. The huge, black screens, the screens that had once provided colorful movements of life are gone.

Something is missing from New York City, you think to yourself, but what is it? And there on one of the billboards you find your answer. Each billboard looks exactly the same with a white background and Times New Roman font, but this one seems larger than the rest. It reads:
“No art allowed, prohibited by law.”

“What!? No Art!” You shout. Everyone in the square turns towards you and stares. Their cold eyes look into yours. You start to sprint, not knowing where you’re going. Then you spot stairs leading down underneath the ground. You sprint faster now that you have a destination. You are running so fast you almost fall down the steps. When you feel the cool breeze and hear the faint sound of a train in the distance, you know where you are. You are in the subway. The small area is packed.

“I guess everyone rides the subway,” you mutter under your breath.

You look around trying to find a map. The track is to your right, a bench and a water fountain is in front of you and off to your left you finally find a map. You walk over to the map and search for the words “Metropolitan Museum of Art.” When you finally realize that the words aren’t there you know the billboard wasn’t lying. You walk over to the bench and sit down. You try to listen for a train coming, but you can’t hear anything over your panting. Maybe I underestimated how long I was sprinting, you think to yourself. You take a few sips of water from the water fountain and catch your breath. After ten minutes you have not heard any sound from a train, since the first one you heard when you entered the station. You go over to the edge of the track and look down the tunnel. You lean forward a little too much and fall on top of the rails.

All the sudden you see blinding white lights, heading straight for you. When you finally comprehend what it is, the train is just a couple feet away from you. You close your eyes and scream. When you open your eyes you find yourself in your room, safely tucked underneath your blanket. You sigh realizing it was just a dream, but then it hits the world without art is not dream. It is a nightmare.