The next night the dream returned.
Without any warning.
Lina was standing in the same city again.
The same pavement.
The same old houses.
The same windows.
And the same silence.
This time she wasn’t frightened.
She just looked around.
As if she had returned to a place where she’d forgotten something.
She walked down the same street.
The fountain.
The empty benches.
The closed book.
There were no shadows.
Or she simply didn’t see them.
Only the wind.
Slow.
Warm.
It carried some kind of scent.
Damp wood.
Old paper.
And rain that hadn’t started yet.
Beyond the square, the street narrowed.
It ended at a blank stone wall.
It hadn’t been here yesterday.
Lina was sure of that.
She came closer.
The wall was old.
The stones uneven.
Some had already been swallowed by moss.
Right in the middle was a door.
Black.
Tall.
Without any ornament.
Lina stopped.
She didn’t know why, but she felt that this was exactly what she’d been looking for.
She approached.
The door had no lock.
No keyhole.
No handle.
Only a narrow vertical crack.
Barely a few millimeters wide.
She tried to push it.
It didn’t move.
She pulled.
Nothing.
She pressed her shoulder against it.
It didn’t budge at all.
– Great.
She said quietly to herself.
– I’m dreaming about a door with no handle.
She even laughed.
The laugh echoed down the street.
And immediately vanished.
Lina crouched down.
Ran her fingers over the stone.
The crack was warm.
Strange.
The whole wall was cold.
Only that one spot…
Warm.
She pressed her eye to it.
Inside it was dark.
Nothing could be seen.
But she could feel it.
Something was behind the door.
Not a person.
Not danger.
More like…
An answer.
She stepped back.
Looked around.
Maybe a key was hidden somewhere.
She searched among the stones.
Under the steps.
By the walls.
Nothing.
Only the city.
And silence.
An unknown amount of time passed.
In dreams, time flows differently.
Finally Lina sat down on the ground.
Her back against the cold wall.
– Fine.
She sighed.
– You win.
She no longer knew who she was saying that to.
The door.
The city.
Or herself.
Silence.
For the first time she let herself do nothing.
Not try to understand.
Not try to explain.
Not try to control.
Just be.
After a long silence, she was surprised to hear her own voice.
– I’m afraid.
The words came out quietly.
Almost like a sigh.
She frowned.
She hadn’t meant to say that.
– I’m afraid…
She fell silent.
Something tightened in her throat.
– …that one day I’ll understand…
That I’ve spent my whole life living someone else’s life.
Silence.
Nothing happened.
She lowered her head.
– And I’m even more afraid…
That I already understand it.
At that very moment something clicked quietly.
Lina looked up.
The door hadn’t opened.
It had only parted, just barely.
Enough that a narrow strip of darkness appeared between it and the frame.
She slowly moved closer.
Didn’t touch it.
The gap widened little by little on its own.
There was no sound.
Only stone pulling away from stone.
As if the door wasn’t being opened.
It was deciding to open.
Beyond it there was no room to be seen.
No hallway.
Only fog.
Dark.
Moving.
Alive.
The same scent drifted out of it.
Old paper.
Rain.
And something familiar.
Forgotten long ago.
Lina took a step forward.
Suddenly she heard a voice.
Not behind her.
Not in front of her.
Inside.
– Is that all?
She froze.
The voice was hers.
Only…
A little younger.
– Is that all you had to say?
Lina spun around.
There was nothing behind her.
When she looked at the door again…
It was closed.
As if it had never opened at all.
She woke up suddenly.
Dawn was breaking.
The first rays of sunlight fell on the wall.
Lina sat up in bed.
This time she remembered the dream down to the smallest detail.
She picked up the black notebook.
Thought for a long time.
Then wrote only one sentence.
In a dream, what you try to force open never opens.
After a long pause she added one more.
Some thresholds only open once you stop lying to yourself.
She closed the notebook.
And for the first time since these dreams began, she felt not fear.
But a strange, almost childlike wish to go back there again.