I'm in a dream. I think.
It feels real, but it also feels like a dream. I can't tell the difference anymore.
I'm standing in a forest.
It's not a forest I recognize, but it feels familiar somehow.
The trees are tall and ancient, and the moonlight filtering through the leaves casts a soft, silvery glow on the forest floor.
There's a path winding through the trees, and I know I need to follow it.
I don't know why, but I know it's important.
I take a step forward, and then another, and soon I'm walking down the path, my footsteps silent on the soft moss.
The forest is quiet, too quiet.
There are no birds singing, no insects chirping, no animals rustling in the undergrowth.
It's as if the entire forest is holding its breath, waiting for something.
I walk for what feels like hours, but the path never seems to end.
The trees are all the same, and the moonlight is always the same, and I'm starting to feel like I'm walking in circles.
