The world is engulfed in darkness. It always comes back to darkness. Everywhere I go is dark. Somebody is holding me in their arms. Am I dreaming again? Is it a continuation of the last one? The arms set me down on my feet and I can feel that this one is different than before. I’m still young. Four years old again, but the feeling of confusion and distress aren’t quite there. I feel…calm and trusting. I feel safe. A man much, much taller than me wearing a long cloak walks from behind the person who was carrying me and positions himself in front of a very large white oak tree. I watch as he sets a small burlap sack on the ground and empties the contents. Multiple bottles filled with liquids I don’t know the names to, a ceramic pot I can somehow recall contains salt, five candles all of different colors, a dull looking knife, and a few other items I didn’t make an effort to pay attention to.

I look up at the person keeping me by their side. A woman. Most of her face hidden behind a hooded cloak. A shadow is cast over her, revealing only her cheeks, mouth, and a glimmer in her eyes. I feel my mouth moving, forming words I can’t even hear. The woman responds, and I can’t hear her either. I look back down to the man who is casting some sort of circle around the oak tree. When he finishes he beckons me over with a hand. I can see desperation in his eyes. I look at the woman for confirmation and she nods, smiles, and gently edges me toward him. I hobble cautiously over to him, entering the circle through a small opening. He closes the circle with a bit of salt once I’m through. 

He kneels down to meet me face to face. His mouth moves to form words, but, once again, I hear nothing. He takes the bottles from the ground and opens them. After dripping some of what looks like oil on his fingers he anoints me with them. After speaking a few indistinguishable words he pushes me toward the tree. I walk up to the large intimidating oak with reluctance. I raise my hand to it and before I touch the rough bark I look back at the two people once more. The man keeps his hood up only showing the vague outline of his face, but the woman puts hers down. Tears roll down her cheeks and the light of the full moon reflects back out of her dark emerald eyes. Her thick, deep red hair flows around her. She seems familiar. Really familiar. She looks a little like me, but she’s not me. The feeling of anxiety and distress well up inside my heart once again.

The man waves another hand at me, encouraging me to take hold of the oak. I look back at the tree, and ever so slowly place my hand on it’s cold shell. It feels as though nothing happened, so I peek back at the two people and find they are no longer there, as well as the circle. My memory begins to jumble and I wonder whether or not they were even there to begin with, or if I was just imagining all of it. I whip my head around searching the forest. It looks the same, but it’s different. The trees are different. The oak I grabbed hold of is different. The shape and sizes aren’t the same. The confusion becomes so intense and debilitating I begin to cry. That feeling of desperation and distress I had felt in the other dream start to build up like a fire inside of me. I let out a wail hoping the ones who left me here hear my cries, but to no avail. Nobody comes. 

***

I wake up in a daze with a sore body from lying on a hard concrete floor. I prop myself up and kick the milk crate I threw the pendant in away. I don’t know what the hell that was but I don’t want any part of it. One thing I am curious about, though, is the dream it quite literally shocked me into having. Was it a dream? Or was it a memory? At this point I can’t even tell. I pull my phone from my back pocket. I came down here at noon, around twelve. It’s one thirty. I’ve been passed out down here for an hour and a half. Shit. I stumble to the stairs, rip open the box of winter clothes, grab a jacket, and struggle to climb up the steps. The shocks from earlier left my legs feeling weak. I make it to the top of the stairs and slip into my jacket. It doesn’t seem like my parents are home yet. I cut to the right of the stairs to the mud room and exit through the back door onto our deck. The cool air hits my face calming me down a bit. I get to the deck stairs and sink down onto them dropping my head in between my knees. A small wave of nausea that had come over me finally starts to disappear as I sit.

My phone rings. I answer it. “Hello?”

“Hey sweetheart! I never got a text from you. Did you make it to the house alright?” My dad’s cheerful voice asks.

“Yeah.” I try to hide my heavy breathing. “Yeah sorry. I made it. I’m just out on the deck getting some fresh air. You and mom still at the gallery?”

“We are. We’ll probably be back around four tonight. We were thinking of getting something good for dinner. There’s a new restaurant downtown if you want to check it out. We’ll pick you up and head down around five. Sound good?” His excitement pierces my ears.

I hold the hone further from my ear. “Uh yeah. Yeah. Sure I’m down for it. Sounds good. I’m looking forward to seeing you and mom again.” I rub a migraine from my eyes.

“Great! See you soon sweetie! We love you!” he hangs up. 

I slip my phone back in my pocket and walk down the stairs into the lawn. I stare blankly into the forest about sixty feet from my me. The trees ruffle in the wind. Piles of dead evergreen needles gather on the ground and mingle with the dying yellow leaves rotting between the other foliage scattered about the forest floor. It puts me in a trance. A trance that I force myself to break from and rush back inside. 

***

I couldn’t concentrate very well after what happened in the basement. The entire time I was out to eat with my parents I couldn’t pay attention to anything they were saying. I couldn’t tell if I was just exhausted or trying to make out what had happened. Maybe both. I don’t know. 

My mom places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Honey are you alright? You haven’t touched much of your soup.”

The noises of the bustling restaurant come back to me. I pick up my spoon and fiddle with my food. “I’m alright, mom. It’s just been a really busy week with the gallery up at school. I might just be a little tired and out of it.”

“Oh. Well do you maybe want to take your food home and eat later? I can ask for some take out containers.” She starts to signal for the waiter.

“No it’s fine.” I stop her. “I really wanted to spend some time with you guys. I can always sleep later. Dad was excited about coming here.”

“Are you sure? let me know if it feels like too much ok? We can’t have you passing out in the middle of eating.”

Dad comes back from the restroom and sits. “Hey J, maybe tomorrow you can stop by work and check out some new paintings we got in from Shelby.”

“Darling June’s been tired I don’t think it-” Mom starts.

“I’d be happy to go.” I interrupt. “Though like mom said I’m pretty tired so I probably won’t be able to make it until noon. I was looking forward to sleeping in awhile.”

He pats me on the back in a comforting way I forgot I had missed. “Of course sweetheart! Sleep in as much as you want. This is your gallery just as much as ours so you could come in at two in the morning for all it matters. Just make sure you pop in and check it out. Shelby has been bugging me to get you to come.”

Shelby is this high school student who won an art contest my dad hosted when she was a freshman. She’s a junior now and my dad loved her stuff so much he kept her on. “You can let her know I’ll be there as soon as I feel less like a zombie.” 

For the rest of the dinner I exchange a few surface words with them. As much as I tried to convince my mother I wanted to be there all I want to do is go back home and lay down. We get through the dinner and drive back home. I almost pass out in the car until I feel dad pull into the driveway. I drag myself out of my seat and up stairs I barely remember climbing into the house and up to my room. As soon as my head hits the pillow I fall asleep. 

A few hours later I awake to a banging on my front door.