Katherine's POV
The sky hadn't summon the morning yet stuck between night's last breath and the pale hush of dawn.
I hadn't meant to wake so early. But something woke me up before the sun.
I didn't make coffee. Didn't even wash my face. Just wrapped the shawl around my shoulders and stepped barefoot into the garden... knees pulled to my chest, the dew soaking through the thin fabric of my robe. I just… woke up and walked out here like something was waiting for me.
The air smelled like mint, thyme and damp earth. The world was quiet, even the birds are still sleeping no morning songs, this kind of quiet feels deliberate. Like it's holding its breath.
Maybe it was???
What am I supposed to do today? Pretend nothing happened? Pretend I didn't feel a hand that wasn't there? Hear a voice I've never heard in this life? Dance with a ghost?
I looked at my hands. Still trembling, though I didn't feel cold.
I don't know what I'm supposed to believe anymore.
The dream, if it was a dream won't leave me. It clings like smoke. It felt like memory. Like it wasn't the first time I touched him. Like I should've known his name.
But I didn't.
And that terrifies me more than the fact he was there at all. So i just sat watching the sun announcing the arrival of a new day, new dawn, and watching my thoughts flow with it.
A soft rustle behind the fence. Slow steps over gravel. Brought me back to the moment and out of my thoughts.
Someone was approaching, too early for the usual village stirrings???
I turned, pulling the shawl tighter.
A figure stepped into view. Familiar. Steady.
Aunt Mary!!!
She stood by the gate, holding a basket filled with herbs, mugwort, lavender, something darker I didn't recognize. She was watching me like she had been for a while.
"You look like you haven't slept," she said, stepping closer.
"I haven't, and i guess neither you??" I answered. My voice didn't sound like mine.
"The more you grow, the harder is to enjoy sleeping. I brought something," she said. "For the dreams you've mentioned. If you still want to sleep tonight."
I nodded, but didn't leave my place.
"Come in," I said softly, finally rising to my feet.
We walked in silence through the short garden path. I didn't have to explain. Aunt Mary always seemed to know when the words weren't ready yet.
Inside, I put the kettle on the stove and moved on instinct, mugs, spoons, the tiny jar of honey. The quiet wasn't awkward. Just full.
"I've seen that look before," she said at last, settling into the chair by the table. "You carry your sleep like it betrayed you."
"Maybe it did." I laughed.
She smiled gently. "Did the dream come again?"
I nodded as I poured the tea. "He was there. Again. The same… presence. Same feeling. Same figure... I saw him clearly. I touched him."
"And?"
"And he touched me back."
Mary's eyes didn't widen or flinch. She just sipped her tea and waited. Like she'd been expecting me to say it.
"I don't understand what's happening to me," I said. "Why does it feel so real? I don't even remember when these dreams started, it's as if they were here all along! Do you think it's a odd?"
"I think it's a message," she said, placing the bundle of herbs on the table between us. "And I think it carries energy, and it's not finished yet."
I said quietly. "Even when I'm terrified… it doesn't feel wrong. It feels like a piece of a puzzle, a bigger picture, like something is missing."
Mary stirred her tea. "Some lives leave unfinished symphonies. Some souls come back trying to finish them."
"You believe in reincarnation, child?"
She looked at me and said it like that was the smallest leap in the world. "I don't know!! People speak of it like a myth, even in books? There's nothing granted about it??"
I protested.
"I think the soul remembers more than the mind ever will."
"You're not the first woman to carry ancient truths in her bones and be told she's imagining it."
That made me pause.
"And this presence," she continued, softer now, "he may not be a stranger. Even if you've forgotten his name."
I stared into my mug. The tea had cooled. "Why would I forget?"
"Because remembering hurts more."
"And why does he still follow me? In dreams?
"Sometimes I feel like something's following me in the house too, i just never dared to say it out loud, i thought it was in my head... that these are the ghosts of my parents who once burned here! Due to a silly mistake I've lost them and now am losing my mind too."
She reached across the table, her fingers wrapping around mine, warm, steady.
"I know what they meant to you, child," she said. "And I know grief can take the shape of ghosts when we try too hard to bear it alone."
Her eyes didn't leave mine. "But the presence you feel… it isn't guilt. It isn't madness. And it clearly isn't your parents."
She continued hesitant "They've passed on, Katherine... I felt it the night the fire took them, they left with peace in their bones. They crossed the veil with ease. That ache you carry? That's the shape of love that had no time to say goodbye."
My throat tightened. "Then what is this?"
She looked almost sad then. "Some bonds don't break when hearts stop beating. Some are older than death itself."
I leaned back in the chair, heart thrumming. "What am I supposed to do aunt Mary? This confusion is haunting me"
She reached out and touched my hand. "You live. You feel. And when the time comes… you'll remember, and the decision is yours Katherine. "
I looked down at our hands, hers weathered by time, mine trembling slightly.
The quiet stretched.
I lifted my head and her gaze was not to me. It lingered behind me.
Her eyes widened slightly, not in fear, but recognition! Like she was seeing something I can't see.
I didn't dare move.
"Aunt Mary?" I whispered, throat tight.
She didn't answer right away.
Her head tilted, eyes distant, unfocused. Like she was listening to something just out of reach. Or someone.
"What is it?" I asked, louder this time.
She blinked once, slowly, then met my eyes again, softer this time. "Hm?"
"You looked… behind me. Did you see something?"
A pause. Then a gentle, practiced smile.
"No" she said, brushing her fingers against her cup. "Just drifted off. Got caught in a thought. And i guess it's lake of sleep."
She reached into the basket at her side and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in soft cloth, herbs.
"These are for the dreams," she said, placing them on the table between us. "If they're just nightmares… they'll disappear. But if they're memories."
She paused, watching my face carefully.
"then the soul already knows. It will show you the path to take."
I stared at the bundle but didn't reach for it.
"And if I don't want that path?" I asked quietly. "What if I want it all to stop?"
Mary gave a sad smile. "Then you're like every soul that's ever remembered something they weren't ready for."
I looked away. "I don't feel ready. I don't feel anything but… haunted."
"Then don't run from that," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "Sit with it. Let it pass through. Ghosts can't hurt you more than your own fear can."
"I just want it to make sense," I whispered.
"It will. But not all at once. It takes time. Be patient. "
I picked up the bundle and held it in both hands like it might vanish. "And if I burn these tonight…?"
Mary stood slowly, adjusting her shawl. "Then something might come. Or nothing at all. But either way, if they're nightmares they'll stop. That much, I promise you."
She gave me one last look...calm, knowing, and turned to leave.
Halfway to the door, she paused again. Not turning back, just… still.
"Not everything that follows you is here to hurt you, Katherine," she said. "Sometimes… it's love, holding on."
Then she left me with the quiet, the tea gone cold, and the scent of rosemary still rising from her hands.