Almost every night Una dreamed the same dream. She was alone in a deep, murky forest lit only by the dim glow of the moon. She wandered between the trees, trying to find her way out. She tripped over roots pushing through the ground, mistook shifting shadows for creatures lurking in the dark. The deep, earthy smell of damp soil filled her lungs. The air felt fresh yet strangely heavy, as if the forest’s slow exhale thickened the space around her.

On those nights she felt lost as never before. The more she tried to escape the forest, the more it seemed to pull her deeper in. And the deeper she went, the louder it became. It always began with a faint hum, the trees rustling gently in the wind. The hum would curl into quiet whispers, as though branches were speaking to one another. Then came the chatter, broken by twigs cracking under her feet as she tried to step away from the noise. The more she attempted to flee, the more the sound swelled, until it rose into full shouting.

Each night the quiet, dark forest filled itself with the ghostly sounds of voices — some belonging to people she knew, others to complete strangers. She would recognize her mother’s voice telling her to go left, then right, then left again, only to complain she never listened. It reminded her she had been told never to go into the woods alone, stirring old guilt about disobedience, about not being a good girl.

Her father’s voice criticised her for getting lost at all, for not being able to find her way out, making her feel useless and unable to help herself. And then came the other voices: mocking, belittling, calling her stupid, worthless, undeserving. All of them offered directions, yet somehow left her more lost than before.

Some of the messages even appeared in the air between the trees as coded symbols — silver letters flashing into existence for a split second before dissolving back into the night. She recognised fragments from old letters she had once received, lines from books she read years ago, remembered quotes, even stray sentences from films that had stayed with her without her noticing. All of them stirred memories and emotions that blurred together around her, folding into the rising chorus of the woods until she could no longer tell where the messages ended and she began.

As she tried to escape and find the exit, her feet tangled in the undergrowth and spiky branches snagged her clothes, slowing her down, holding her in place, forcing her to listen until the voices filled her head completely and began to sound like her own. The guilt and blame slipped into her mind so quietly she barely noticed, and before long they had become hers, spilling over every wrong step she had ever taken in her life. Bit by bit, the emotions, the judgements, the disapproval slipped into her mind, disguising themselves as familiar thoughts she had always believed were hers.

At this point, when the noise of her own thoughts became almost unbearable, she would usually snap out of the dream the moment someone called her name.

But tonight something shifted; the dream took a new turn. In the distance she noticed a glowing white shape moving slowly through the forest, slipping gently between bushes and trees. She looked closer — it was a wolf, his white fur luminous in the moonlight. She stood there, mesmerised by the grace and softness of his movements. The majestic creature noticed her as well. He approached slowly, stopped by a tree, and looked at her. Everything stopped. A soothing silence filled the forest. She felt herself falling into that silence — warm and soothing, enveloping her like a blanket woven from the black velvet of the night sky.

The murky forest was no longer frightening — it revealed itself as peaceful, almost tender in its quiet presence. The darkness gathered around her like a calm embrace, carrying no judgement, asking nothing of her at all. The soft sounds of the night brushed against her awareness; the wind’s humming through the treetops now drifted like a serene lullaby rather than words meant to wound. The air had shed its heaviness. It opened wide around her, creating room inside her chest, inviting her to breathe — deep, steady, unburdened.

She and the wolf continued to look at one another, their gaze held by an invisible thread. The silence somehow deepened, becoming vast and tender, and she allowed herself to sink into it completely. The animal bowed its head slightly, then lifted it again, rose to its feet, and began to walk. No words were needed; no doubt stirred in her. She knew she was meant to follow.

She stepped after the luminous creature, her movements now precise, deliberate, as though her feet finally knew the way. As she walked, a faint whisper stirred in the wind — so soft she wasn’t sure whether she heard it or only sensed it — but the meaning reached her all the same: “Find Una.”

She walked on through the dark forest, yet with every step it felt as though the wolf was leading her closer to herself. Something within her began to stir, a faint recognition rising from a depth she had long forgotten. Beneath all the noise, beneath all the borrowed voices, she sensed a truth she had always carried: a quiet, steady kindness. The same kindness she had so freely given to others was now beginning to turn toward her, warm and tentative, as if remembering its way home.

The wolf stopped, and so did she. He turned his head toward her, as if signalling that their journey had reached its end. She understood without a single word exchanged. She stood still, watching the white figure grow smaller as it slipped back into the darkness of the woods, until at last it disappeared completely.

“Una” — the gentlest whisper brushed against her awareness as she woke. And for the first time in years, perhaps for the first time in her life, her mind was silent, wide open, giving her space to finally hear her own voice.