I dreamed the forest remembered my name

I was walking a trail I’ve never seen, but knew by heart—moss thick as wool underfoot, roots like old bones. The air hummed, not with insects, but with voices: mine, but older, softer. A deer stepped out, looked at me, and said, 'You’re late.' I didn’t answer. I just kept walking. When I woke, my boots were still damp from yesterday’s rain, and for a moment, I thought the forest had been waiting.