Every night, she dreamed of the same place. A small town that didn't exist on any map, nestled between misty hills and a river that shimmered with an unnatural light. The buildings were old, made of dark wood and stone, their windows glowing faintly like eyes watching her. She never saw anyone else in the dream, only the sound of wind whispering through empty streets and the occasional creak of a door swinging open by itself. At first, the dreams were just strange. But as the nights passed, they became more vivid, more detailed. She could feel the cold air against her skin, smell the damp earth, hear the soft drip of water from a broken pipe. She would walk the same path each time—past a church with a crooked bell tower, under a bridge where the water ran black, and into a house at the end of the road. It was always the same house, its front door slightly ajar, inviting her in. Inside, the air was thick with dust and silence. The walls were lined with books that had no titles, and the floorboards groaned beneath her feet. In the center of the room stood a mirror, not the kind you’d find in a normal home, but something older, with a frame carved with symbols she couldn’t understand. When she looked into it, she saw not her reflection, but a different version of herself—older, wearier, with eyes that seemed to know things she didn’t. One night, she decided to step through the mirror. The moment she did, the world around her shifted. The room dissolved into a swirl of colors and shapes, and when she opened her eyes, she was standing outside the house, but the town was gone. In its place was a vast field of tall grass, stretching endlessly in all directions. The sky above was a deep indigo, and the stars blinked like distant fires. She wandered for what felt like hours, until she came upon a clearing. There, sitting in a circle, were figures cloaked in shadows. They didn’t move, didn’t speak, but they watched her with a patience that sent a chill down her spine. One of them reached out, and in its hand was a small, silver key. It floated toward her, landing gently in her palm. When she woke up, the key was still there, warm and heavy. She tried to remember the dream, but the details blurred like smoke. The next night, she returned to the house, and this time, the door was locked. She inserted the key, and it turned smoothly, as if it had been waiting for her all along. Inside, the mirror was gone. In its place was a door, ancient and weathered, with a handle that pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. She touched it, and the door creaked open, revealing a hallway that stretched into darkness. The air grew colder, and the silence was so complete it felt alive. She stepped forward, and the door closed behind her. The hallway was lined with portraits, each one depicting a different version of herself—some young, some old, some with faces she didn’t recognize. As she walked, the portraits seemed to shift, their eyes following her, their mouths moving in silent whispers. At the end of the hall, she found another door, identical to the last. But this one had a single word etched into it: *Remember.* She hesitated. Something told her that opening this door would change everything. That she might not come back the same. But curiosity, or perhaps something deeper, pulled her forward. With a deep breath, she turned the handle. The door swung open, revealing a room filled with light. In the center stood a woman—her, but younger, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The woman held out a hand, and in it was a photograph. It showed the town, the house, the mirror, and her standing in front of it, looking directly at the camera. “You’ve been here before,” the woman said softly. “You just forgot.” The photograph slipped from her hand and landed on the floor. As she bent to pick it up, the room began to fade, the light dimming, the walls collapsing into nothingness. She felt herself being pulled back, the sensation of falling through time and space. She awoke in her bed, drenched in sweat, the key still in her hand. The room was quiet, the clock on the wall ticking steadily. But something was different. The dreams had stopped. Or maybe they had just changed. She looked at the key, now cold and lifeless, and wondered if she had truly left the other world behind—or if it had simply waited for her to return.