Every night, she dreamed of the same place. A small village nestled in a valley, surrounded by trees that seemed too tall and too still. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something sweet, almost like blooming jasmine. She never saw anyone else in the dreams—only the quiet streets, the creaking wooden doors, and the soft glow of lanterns hanging from the eaves. The first time it happened, she thought it was just a vivid nightmare. But the next night, the dream returned, and the next, and so on. Each time, the details were slightly different. One night, the river running through the village was frozen over, its surface reflecting the moon like polished glass. Another time, the houses had no windows, only smooth walls that pulsed faintly as if they were alive. She began to notice strange things in her waking life. A pattern in the wallpaper that matched the design of the buildings in her dreams. A song she heard on the radio that echoed the melody of a lullaby she had never learned. Even the way the wind moved through her apartment felt familiar, as if it had once carried the whispers of the village. One evening, she decided to follow the dream. She sat on the edge of her bed, eyes closed, focusing on the memory of the village. The air around her grew colder, and when she opened her eyes, she was no longer in her room. The floor beneath her feet was made of worn stone, and the sky above was a deep indigo, filled with stars she had never seen before. The village was real. Not just a figment of her imagination. She walked down the narrow streets, her breath visible in the cool air. The houses stood in perfect symmetry, their roofs slanting sharply toward the sky. A single cat watched her from the top of a fence, its eyes glowing faintly in the dark. She entered one of the houses, drawn by an unspoken pull. Inside, the walls were lined with mirrors, each one reflecting a different version of herself. Some showed her older, others younger, and some not at all. In one mirror, she saw a woman with the same face but wearing a dress she had never owned. In another, she saw herself standing outside the village, staring back at the house as if she had just arrived. As she stepped deeper into the house, the air grew heavier, and the silence became oppressive. Then, she heard a voice. It wasn’t speaking in words, but in emotions—loneliness, longing, and a deep, aching sadness. She turned, but there was no one there. The door behind her slammed shut, and the lights flickered. She ran out into the street, heart pounding. The village was now empty, the lanterns extinguished. The trees around the valley had grown taller, their branches reaching toward her like fingers. She tried to leave, but the path had changed, leading her in circles. No matter which direction she went, she always ended up back at the same spot. When she finally woke, she was drenched in sweat, the room filled with the sound of rain tapping against the window. The dream had left her shaken, but also curious. She started keeping a journal, writing down every detail of the village, the people she didn’t see, the sounds she couldn’t explain. Days passed, and the dreams continued, each one more vivid than the last. She began to understand that the village wasn’t just a place—it was a memory. A memory not her own, but one that had been waiting for her to remember. One night, she found a key hidden beneath a loose floorboard in her apartment. It was old, tarnished, and fit perfectly into a lock she had never noticed before. When she turned it, the door to the attic creaked open, revealing a dusty box filled with letters and photographs. The photos showed the same village, but in different eras. The letters spoke of a girl who had disappeared, a girl who had walked the same streets and dreamed the same dreams. She realized then that she wasn’t the first to dream of the village. And perhaps, she wouldn’t be the last. As she sat in the attic, the weight of the past pressing down on her, she wondered: Had she been searching for the village all along, or had the village been searching for her?