Yasemin sprinted through the wilderness, her loose black hair flowing behind her. The ground beneath her bare feet blurred as if she were soaring through the air. What made it even more extraordinary was that Min was observing herself running, signaling that she was in the midst of a dream. Her mother, Erden, always emphasized the importance of paying attention to dreams, claiming that they could reveal truths more potent than waking memories. Frankly, Min found it hard to grasp.
Nevertheless, the sensation of witnessing her dream-self from above was surreal. Dream-Min dashed forward, arms pumping and legs a rapid ochre blur. From this elevated perspective, she recognized her surroundings: a section of the forest near their home, situated during the twilight of the year. The leaves appeared lush and green, and stagnant puddles lingered from recent heavy rains. Min was confident that if she could look back, she would spot their modest hut nestled among the dark trees, nestled in a protective curve of the meandering river that sliced through the woods.
Dream-Min glanced over her shoulder, and dreaming-Min witnessed her own face: streaked with tears, gripped by panic and terror. It was disconcerting to see such an expression, especially when it adorned her own visage.
Then she discerned the source of her fear: a primal, animalistic bellow, a deafening roar that seemed capable of splitting the very trunks of trees—if only she could cover her ears. The dream-Min instinctively did so, screaming in terror, and pushed herself to run even faster.
A thunderous crash erupted behind them, and now dream-Min, observing from above, witnessed a colossal black bear forcing its way through the dense undergrowth as it pursued her. The creature's fur was patchy, with exposed skin marred by grotesque, bulging pustules of green and brown. It was a repulsive and horrific sight. What kind of affliction had befallen the beast remained unknown, but the expression on the monster's face conveyed its intention: it had no plans of letting her escape.
The bear gave chase, closing the distance between them so rapidly that Min, looking down from above, let out a gasp and yelled—at herself—to run faster. However, the dream-Min stumbled after leaping over a narrow ravine, and the bear seized her from behind, growling like a rabid creature.
It all ended within moments. The bear tore the young woman apart, feasting on her flesh.
Min jolted awake, crying out, her bare body glistening with sweat and a metallic taste of blood in her mouth. She dabbed at her lip, then recoiled at the sight of the stain—she had bitten herself in her sleep. Unable to contain herself, she slumped over in bed, weeping, her body trembling with fear and the haunting memory of her own demise.
"Yasemin?" Erden soon woke, sitting up abruptly on the nearby bedroll. The rustic little cabin they shared was immersed in darkness, the fire having long since faded away.
"Oh, Mother!" Min turned and enveloped her arms around the older woman, disregarding the evening's heat. All she needed was the solace that only her mother could provide.
"Shhh," Erden cooed, encircling Min with her soft arms, pressing tender kisses to her face, forehead, and the top of her head. They were kindred spirits, although Erden's hair had a faint touch of gray. She stood half a hand taller than her daughter, her body displaying softness in certain areas due to age, but she remained a vision of beauty. Min wept for several moments, overwhelmed by the intensity of her own dream, but the touch of her mother's fingers in her hair and the gentle warmth of Erden's body soon brought her solace. A cool breeze, a blessed relief from the evening's heat, swept over them on the humble mat they shared. Gradually, Min managed to suppress any lingering tears, finding comfort in the tranquil moment.
The older woman pressed another kiss onto her daughter's lips, her hand gliding up and down Min's exposed back as she pushed aside the lone sheet, exposing them both to the cool night air. It was the rainy season in that area, so the night carried a slight chill.
"Tell me," Erden spoke, understanding the need for no further explanation. She settled back down and beckoned Min to do the same, their bodies entwined closely, finding solace in the darkness.
Min trembled. "I could see..." She licked her tender lip, gazing up at the night sky through the gaps in the trees, where the full moon hung heavy—an ominous sign. "I could see myself. Running."
Erden brushed her own hair aside, wiping the sheen of sweat off her neck. She nodded, choosing silence over words.
"It was near here," Min disclosed, placing a hand on her mother's abdomen. She felt a thin layer of perspiration between her cheek and Erden's shoulder, but the embrace felt too comforting to break, even for a moment. "I was running away from here—from home."
Erden nodded once again. With tenderness, she gathered Min's hair, exposing her shoulders and neck to catch the next breeze that fluttered past. Min closed her eyes, releasing a sigh of relief and gratitude as the cool air alleviated the sweat.
"Dreams of home, of escaping this place..." The older woman murmured, her long fingers delicately wiping away more sweat from beneath her breasts. "That's troubling."
"It gets worse," Min confessed. She licked her bloodied lip once more, rolling over to avert her gaze—out of shame, fear, or perhaps something indescribable. Hugging her legs tightly against her chest, she stared into the twilight beyond the safety of their humble abode, her vision blurred. "Something... was chasing me—I saw a bear, diseased or sick. I don't know. It caught up to me, and... and..." She shuddered, unable to complete her own sentence.
"A bear, too," Erden responded with concern.
"What is it, Mother?" Min turned to look over her shoulder. "What does it mean?" Her heart pounded, her hands trembled. The memory of the creature catching up to her alone was enough to send chills down her spine.