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I leave out the part about how up to this point, I was being chased through the snowy birch by my hooded hunter, before he disappeared just as I reached the light.

“When I stepped in the clearing, suddenly, it was daylight… or maybe it was still night, I’m not sure. This part is different every time. The contrast between the light and dark… it’s disorienting.”

I’m all too familiar with my mind playing tricks on me.

“That’s okay. Take your time.”

Taking a deep breath, I continue the dream—the one I know by heart, even though the ending is never quite the same. It’s like my own personal nightmare loop. The one that reminds me every time I close my eyes just how alone I am. Except for when he joins me in my dreams. His pursuit is oddly comforting, albeit ominous.

“It’s hard to explain. Maybe it wasn’t even night—maybe just the darkness of the woods made it seem night. But the blinding snow was falling, and past the tree line, everything was sparkling white. The brightness swallowed me up, and I was surrounded by a deafening silence. I tried to hear the cries. But the closer I got, the quieter they became and the louder the wind howled, its force almost pushing me back towards the woods. That’s crazy, right?” I peek open my eyes and meet his across the room.

“Adelaide, you know how I feel about the word.” He tsks.

I ignore his scolding. “But it is bizarre that the wind would—warn me, right?”

“Dreams can mean a great number of things. It’s your mind, your dream. There is no right, no wrong—no crazy. Only the subconscious, feelings, memories, dreams, fears, all tangled into mirage or pool. Different fragments are triggered or surface at different times; others are submerged in deeper depths or layers.”

I’m listening to the same speech he’s given me multiple times, but for the first time, I’m actually hearing him.

“So, you think the woods, that’s a memory?” I start. “And the snow, like the night I was found.”

“I didn’t say that,” he backtracks.

“And the wind,” I push, feeling like there is more that he isn’t saying.

“Sure, the elements are a very powerful source of energy that can ground us, connect us… sometimes in the natural world around us, in the physical but also more subtly in the spiritual or mystical.”

“And you believe in all that?”

“I believe in what I’ve seen, what I’ve felt. Trust your instincts. Your mind will unlock when it’s ready. When you’re ready. You must find your own path and open your heart… believe what feels true, but yes, even modern science will tell you that the very fabric of our existence is woven from the elements.”

“It felt like a warning. That part was new.” At least the part about the warning coming from the wind and not the man I’ve desired yet never seen.

“Okay.” He scribbles something down. “Try to relax. If you think it was a warning, let’s explore that. A warning from what? Clear your mind and continue.”

My head falls back to the velvet with a thud. It’s challenging… trying to uncover the truth while holding on to my own lies. I wade through the dream, careful not to reveal my secret. Him.

“I kept walking, against the wind, listening for the cry. I couldn’t hear it, but I could feel it. The echo of pain guiding me forward through the swirling white snow. Somehow, before I knew it, I was on a path that widened as it led over a bridge and up to what appeared to be a castle. Like something straight out of a fairy tale with white stone ramparts and towers, and black parapets and pinnacles.”

“And you’ve seen the castle before last night?” I hear his handwriting quicken.

“Yes, but I didn’t remember until just now.” I squeeze my eyes tighter, careful not to lose the vision of a place I have never been. Yet it felt familiar. “I saw the window in the tower—that’s the same as always, large and arched to a point with wooden x’s over a frosty pane. But now I know where the window is. In a tower—in this imaginary castle. It was like someone was… watching me.” From above, not from the woods, like normal.

“Watching you—how so?” He asks the question as if it’s easy to explain.

“One minute, I was nearing the ornate arched doors covered in iron, and the next, I was inside the castle, which was dark, except for warm light spilling out onto the floor, leading each step I took, climbing higher and higher. And inside, the light flickered, but there were no candles, and the wind howled my name. I mean, howling inside… that’s cra—” I stop myself and open my eyes again to see Doc watching me, hanging on every word, concern etched on his kind, wrinkled face. “Impossible, right?”

He doesn’t reply, only looks back down and resumes writing furiously, detailing the new discoveries in a dream that’s haunted me for years. So, for what seems like the hundredth time, I squeeze my eyes shut and will my brain to let me remember the details. The ones I must be overlooking, the ones that might give me answers about who I am, who my family is… was.

I swallow back the pain and continue.

“Usually in my dream, I just keep walking endlessly until I wake up and my legs are tired after never reaching a destination, but this time was different because this time I reached the top, Doc. And at the top of the tower, there was a wooden door with a flower. A rose, I think—yes, a rose carved right in the middle. I tried the handle, and it was locked. I banged and banged. It wouldn’t budge. And every time my hand touched the door, I could feel it. The pain. It shot through my palm to the rest of my body like a current—I wish I could describe it better. It’s like someone on the other side could feel me. And I could feel them, but the door kept us apart.” A sob bubbles up my throat as I try to make him understand this wasn’t a normal dream; I was living inside a nightmare.

“I couldn’t get in. I couldn’t save her.” Tears spill over as I remember the hopelessness.

“Her?” he asks quietly.

“What?” I sniffle, wiping them away.