When I woke up, it was a stream of light hitting my eyes, the sound of chirping birds echoed above me. A gentle warm breeze brushed against my face and loose hair tickled my cheek. I blinked open my eyes, blurry at first, blinking them till my vision cleared and I could see the sky above through the branches and leaves of a tree above me.
Slowly I sat up, groggy and confused. Yawning I stretched my arms above my head, my body feeling stiff as I moved to stand up slowly, looking around at the sights around me.
Behind me, was a large oak tree. Its branches stretched out far and its roots peeked out from the ground below when I looked down. Birds chirped in the branches above causing me to glance up, watching as they jumped from branch to branch, chasing each other. I couldn’t help but smile and watch as they flew away a few moments later, turning to watch them fly into the bright blue sky.
I looked away to see what else I could see, I stood under the branches of a large oak tree that sat upon a grassy knoll, below I could see the buildings of a small village. I paused for a moment, a memory coming to my mind as I quickly raised my arm, pushing back the white sleeve of the gown I was wearing, searching my arm, turning it this way and that till I found what I was looking for.
There on my arm, starting from my wrist and going up my arm, was a scar. A soft white scar that wrapped around my arm like a twisting vine. It was uneven and rough to the touch but blended in easily with my pale skin. I knew the scar would go all the way up to my shoulder and down towards my heart. A scar I knew was from having the rare luck of being too close to an object that was struck by lightning.
I knew where I was suddenly, I knew who I was. I wasn’t me, well I was but I also wasn’t. This is a dream for me, a me that had a different life, a different name, a different look. This me lived a whole other life while I slept, and when I was awake I was my normal self. Not that this made any sense, I just thought this was what people dreamt of, living other lives only when I slept.
I looked around a little more, turning to look behind me, where a strangely familiar horizon was seen. The rolling hills of green grass seemed to stretch on for miles, dotted with trees and other foliage, as it was nestled into the center of a large mountain range. The village below, my dream home, was also in one of the many valleys located in this mountain. Why people settled into these mountains was never known to me, I never really did try to figure out why, I just thought it was a dream and went along with it every time I “woke” up here.
Glancing at the horizon as the sun was shifting to slowly set, I realized why it suddenly looked familiar. It was the same hill I saw in the doorway of the portal all those people returned from. Sudden fear and hope grasped me with the anxiety of the memories of what had happened before I woke up here. This world was the world on the other side of the portal! It had to be! That also meant.
“He is here!!” I gasped at the thought, I could go and find my husband, he was somewhere in this world! I could save him!
Before I was fully aware of it, I was running, running in the direction of the setting sun, down the slope of the hill the tree sat on, in the opposite direction of the valley I should have gone back to instead. It wasn’t until a few minutes of running later did I came to a stop, gasping for breath.
I had no idea where I was going, or even if this world was that world. This was a dream, this wasn’t real, maybe my mind was trying to trick me. There was no possible way that he was here, in my dream world. Not at all. I sighed and pushed back the midnight-black hair from my face. It had come loose from the bonnet it was in earlier while I was sleeping and flew loose when I started running. Turning around I began to head back towards the village, my home I knew would be there. Removing the loose cloth of the bonnet and letting my hair fall loosely down my back and around my shoulders. The curls bounced as I walked, tucking the bonnet into one of the pockets of the apron I wore over a long skirt.
The clothing style here was older fashioned than it was modern, well, not every time I dreamed here it was, most times when I dreamt, the timing of the world I saw was different, but lately it has been this version of me, living in an old farmhouse with a small chicken farm behind it. I lived on my own, my parents long had passed and my three siblings left for the bigger city, they didn’t want to keep up the farm life, or so they had said. So I took it upon myself to keep the farm going. It brought me joy, raising the chickens, and harvesting their eggs every day.
I had at one point had a sheep, but it had gotten sick two winters before and didn’t live long after the first snowstorm. It lay buried beneath the oak tree where I would often go to take naps on warmer days like today.
The village itself was small. Only about maybe thirty houses filled the village, and two stores and one church sat atop a small hill that everyone in town attended every Sunday. I was not a religious person, but it was a part of the life that was expected of me, so I played the part and went to church with everyone else. Every time I woke up, it was like another day had passed, or sometimes a few weeks had passed. I never married or wanted to find anyone to marry. I mended and made my clothing I traded eggs for on market days. I enjoyed this simple life, sometimes more so than my actual awake life.
As I walked I began to fix my dark curls up into a bun atop my head once more and tied the bonnet back upon my head. Only once had I tried to let my hair lay free or even slipped and talked of things from my awake life and I was nearly called a witch, not wanting this life to end on accusations of something like that. I kept quiet and to myself, hoping that I was able to act the same as I was when I was awake, assuming that my life here continued when I was awake and sleeping to live it out.
I arrived back at the town shortly after fixing my hair, dusting off some dirt from my apron as I walked by some of the townsfolk. Staying quiet I gave them greetings of a head nod or a simple hello before continuing on my way. Most of the people here were friendly, except the head priest, the mayor of the town, and his family. I tried to avoid them, the looks they gave me, the judgemental stares. I swear it looked like they wanted to kill me, or worse. They gave me this really bad feeling whenever I was around them, so I avoided them like the plague if any of them were out and about.
I made it home swiftly, avoiding anyone of importance, slipping into the old doorway and the bright house. All the windows were open letting in the warm breeze and fresh air, the windows were glowing with the sunlight as the house was built to follow the acts of the sun to allow plenty of natural light. My father built this house with his own two hands. Each board and nail he placed in the right place, a home for his family that he cherished above everything else, besides his chickens.
I was greeted by the soft sounds of clucks from the baby chickens I kept in a boxed pen in the back of the house. We had to keep some of the baby chicks inside to give them a better chance of survival. Some of the town folks or the wild hawks or coyotes would steal the baby chicks while the older chickens would put up a fight.
“I know, it is dinner time,” I called out the baby chicks as if they were children of my own. Removing my apron I set about working on my nightly chores before I would lose the light of the sun. They were simple ones, setting up my dinner, and while that cooked, feeding the chickens, locking up the older ones into their coop, bringing in the laundry that was set to dry, and folding and putting them away. Setting up tomorrow's clothing and meals to make for easy fixings when I woke in the mornings. A habit and routine that was done every night.
When that was done, I had just about settled down for the night, eating dinner by candlelight and a book on the table when I heard knocking on the door, causing me to freeze mid-bite into a spoon of soup.
Another knock sounded on the old door, echoing in the quiet house. “Uh.. Be right there!” I called out, not sure who would be knocking at this late hour. Looking for the door, I could see flames behind the old curtains, and torches lit from those standing outside the door. My stomach began to feel uneasy, I reached across the table to grab the knife I had set out to cut the homemade bread I made the day prior.
“We need to speak with you.” A deep yet nasally-sounding voice sounded through the door, the priest. I sighed and rolled my eyes, what he wanted could never be a good thing.
“Be out in a moment, I am… Indecent.” I said trying to find an excuse to take a moment and look around for a better weapon, something felt very very wrong and I had to be smart. I stuffed the knife into the waist tie of my nightgown and slipped a robe over top of that. I grabbed my ax used to chop firewood and hid it behind my back as I reached the door, propping it open enough to see out.
Outside said the priest in his usual black garb, in his hand a bible. Behind him stood the mayor dressed also in what looked like a robe and nightgown, behind him more of the town folk, also dressed similarly. I furrowed my brow.
“I was just heading for some rest, is there something I could help you with?” I asked in the calmest, sweetest tone I could muster.
“I do apologize for bothering you, but the Mayor here just had someone break into his house and kill his children and wife.”
“I was barely able to escape!” The mayor shouted, cutting off the priest as he was speaking.
“We are checking houses to make sure no one is harboring any outsiders.” The priest continued, fixing the cloth around his neck with a finger as he cleared his throat.
“I can assure you, There is no one here but myself,” I tried to assure him.
“I saw someone run into your yard, fleeing the house right after the mayor called out!” Someone in the town shouted and I froze.
“There-There is no one here. I swear upon…” I was cut off as I heard the sound of crashing glass behind me.
The priest and the Mayor shared a look before roughly pushing in the door I had momentarily forgotten about, pushing it open with a thump as the sound of footsteps upstairs sounded on the wood.
“I swear. I don’t know whose…” I began to panic in my tone as two men who worked for the mayor grabbed my arms and held me back.
“Let me go! I have nothing to do with this!” I shouted trying to break free as I heard the sounds of the Mayor and Priest running up the stairs.
“We will determine that.” One of the men said, I never did get their two names, I had never cared before to learn their names. Right now I kind of regret not learning them, as they began to drag me out of the house.
It was a moment later, as I was dragged into the street, that I heard shouting as more people began to run into the house. As the men stopped dragging me, I was able to gain my balance and look at the house as the Mayor was thrown from the bedroom window on the second floor and into the street. His body landed heavily with a loud thump, he moaned as he rolled to his side, still alive.
His wife who was nearby screamed as she ran for his body, shortly after the priest was thrown from the same window, he didn't move after he landed, before a group of men began shouting inside. “Get him!” One shouted inside before some dark figure of a man jumped from the second window, tumbling to the ground before standing up and facing us, he looked nearly unharmed. His eyes locked to mine and I was met with the familiar hazel eyes I would often see in my dreams. The same scar on the side of his face, that dark smirk before he mouthed the words. “Wake up!” and everything went dark once again.
