Chapter 30: Overlapping Memories (Part2)

As Popuri slept, her body twisted restlessly beneath the sheets, her face tightening with the strain of unseen turmoil. Dreams swept her away, vivid and sharp, pulling her into a world at once familiar and utterly foreign.

She found herself standing in a softly lit room, though she wasn't alone. Across from her was… herself. Or someone who wore her face.

The other Popuri stood before a tall mirror, the glass catching every detail as she slipped her blouse over her head. The motion was unhurried, practiced, as though it were part of a ritual she had performed countless times.

Popuri's voice echoed through the strange space, though her lips hadn't moved. "Who is that girl? She looks like me… but she isn't me."

Her counterpart tilted her head, studying the reflection as though admiring a stranger. The lamplight glowed against her long pink hair as she reached for a corset draped across a chair. With deliberate care, the girl wrapped it around her waist, pulling the strings taut until the hourglass curve of her figure was sharply defined.

"Why is she doing that?" Popuri wondered aloud, feeling the ghost of the other girl's discomfort as the corset constricted. Her hand lifted to her own side, as if to feel for the same curves.

The girl in the mirror pinched the sides of her waist lightly, an almost subconscious gesture of self-consciousness. She frowned, as though dissatisfied with what she saw.

"She doesn't like her body?" Popuri mused, her dream-self beginning to feel a strange pang of empathy. "What does she eat? What does she do all day?"

The girl, now fully dressed, moved to the vanity to brush her hair. Her strokes were slow, deliberate, as if smoothing every strand could hide whatever inner thoughts plagued her. The room around her was sparse but elegant, adorned with a vase of fresh flowers on the windowsill.

Once she is ready, the girl walks out of her room, and Popuri follows closely behind, her dream-self moving like a ghost in the strange, vivid scene. The door creaks softly as it opens, revealing a bright, inviting space that looks like a shop. Popuri's eyes scan the shelves lining the walls, stacked with packets of flower, crop seeds, and small gardening tools. The air feels warm and fragrant, as though the scent of fresh blossoms clings to every surface.

Near the counter stands a woman who looks strikingly familiar. Popuri's heart skips a beat as she takes in the sight—it's her mother. But not the frail, bedridden woman she knows in Mineral Town. This version of Lillia is vibrant and healthy, her cheeks rosy and her movements full of energy.

Popuri's breath catches in her throat. "Mom…?" she whispers, though no sound escapes her lips.

The healthy Lillia beams warmly at the other girl—the one who looks like Popuri—and adjusts the hairband in her hair as if she's preparing her for an important outing. Her hands are gentle but purposeful, and her expression radiates motherly pride.

Popuri takes a step closer, her heart pounding as she watches the interaction unfold. She wants to hear them, to understand what her mother is saying, but the dream is eerily silent. It's as if the entire scene is on mute, leaving her stranded on the outside of an invisible barrier.

"What is she saying?" Popuri wonders aloud, her voice echoing faintly in the dream's surreal silence. She leans in, straining to catch even the faintest hint of sound, but the words are swallowed by the quiet.

The girl—her dream-self—laughs at something Lillia says, the motion so familiar it sends a pang through Popuri's chest. She looks happy, carefree, a stark contrast to the girl Popuri sees in the mirror every morning.

As Lillia hands the girl a small basket filled with what looks like food, Popuri feels an ache she can't explain. She hasn't seen her mother like this in years—strong, capable, smiling without the shadow of illness clouding her features. It feels both comforting and deeply unsettling, as though she's peering into a life that doesn't belong to her.

Popuri reaches out instinctively, her fingers brushing the air near her mother's shoulder. But her hand passes through like smoke, and the dream's fragile world ripples faintly around her.

"Mom…" she whispers again, her voice trembling.

The girl in the dream steps toward the door, glancing back at Lillia with a radiant smile. Lillia waves, her expression full of warmth and encouragement. For a moment, Popuri wonders what it would feel like to have that version of her mother see her, to have those strong arms wrap around her and tell her everything would be okay.

As the door creaked open, a shaft of brilliance cut into the shop, flooding the dim interior with a sudden blaze of light. Popuri flinched, instinctively lifting her hand to shield her eyes. The glow was so sharp it burned through the muted warmth of the dream, scattering the shadows like frightened birds.

When at last the glare softened, she lowered her hand—and froze.

Before her stretched a village unlike anything she had ever known. It wasn't Mineral Town, though it carried faint echoes of it, as if shaped from the same mold but pressed into something entirely new. Cobbled streets curved lazily between clusters of houses, their walls painted in bright, cheerful hues, their roofs steep and shingled in the old-fashioned style.

The air was rich with life, filled with the mingled scents of flowers in bloom and the earthy tang of freshly turned soil. Somewhere nearby, a bell chimed faintly, mingling with the laughter of children darting through the alleys. Townsfolk bustled about, each figure strangely familiar, yet subtly altered—as if she were seeing people she knew reflected in rippling water, their features blurred and remade into something almost, but not quite, the same.

Popuri's breath caught. She wasn't sure if she had stepped into another world, or if this world had somehow stepped into her.

"Where am I?" Popuri whispered, though no one could hear her.

Ahead of her, the other Popuri strode confidently down the village path, her basket swinging at her side. Popuri hesitated, torn between awe and curiosity, but the sight of her dream-self disappearing into the crowd jolted her into motion. She hurried to follow, her eyes darting left and right as she took in the strange-yet-familiar surroundings.

There was Elli, standing in front of what appeared to be a bakery, cheerfully chatting with someone. Cliff walked briskly down the street, his expression serious as he raised his arm so a hawk could land on it. Even Karen was there, laughing with a group of people Popuri recognizes.

The faces were the same, but the energy was different. These weren't the people she knew in Mineral Town. They seemed lighter, freer, as if some invisible burden had been lifted from their lives.

"Is this another version of Mineral Town?" Popuri wondered aloud, though no one seemed to notice her presence.

The other Popuri continued her walk, weaving through the streets with purpose. Popuri followed closely, feeling like an invisible shadow. Her dream-self left the village, heading up a winding path that led toward the mountains.

The farther they went, the quieter the world became. The hum of the village faded, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. At the base of the mountain, Popuri stopped in her tracks as her dream-self met up with someone.

Pete.

Popuri's breath hitched. He looked the same as the Pete that lives next door—his rugged features, his worn farming clothes, the quiet strength in the way he stood.

"Why is Pete here?" Popuri whispered, her heart racing.

She watched as the other Popuri and Pete greeted each other with a warm familiarity. The two of them began walking together, heading toward a nearby forest. Popuri followed at a distance, her mind spinning with questions.

They reached a small clearing in the woods, where a pond shimmered in the soft, dappled light filtering through the canopy above. In the center of the pond, a large blue flower bloomed, its petals glowing faintly under a pillar of sunlight. The flower looked almost otherworldly, its vibrant color unlike anything Popuri had ever seen before.

A delicate blue butterfly perched itself on the flower, its wings gently fluttering as it collected nectar. The sight was mesmerizing, almost magical.

The other Popuri and Pete stood at the edge of the pond, pointing at the butterfly and talking animatedly. Popuri tried to move closer, straining to hear their words, but the dream's strange silence persisted. Their lips moved, their expressions shifting between joy and curiosity, but no sound reached her ears.

"What are they saying?" Popuri murmured, frustration creeping into her voice. She stepped closer, but the air felt heavy, like an invisible wall was keeping her at a distance.

The other Popuri laughed, her voice completely muted, and Pete gestured toward the flower with a look of wonder on his face. The butterfly took flight, its wings catching the light as it hovered above the water before disappearing into the trees.

Popuri's chest tightened as she watched the scene unfold. The bond between the other Popuri and Pete was palpable, their connection as natural as the air they breathed. It was a bond she didn't share with anyone, and the realization stung in a way she couldn't quite articulate.

The butterfly fluttered away, its blue wings catching the light as it disappeared into the dense forest beyond the pond. The other Popuri and Pete stood watching it for a moment, the soft hum of the forest enveloping them. Then, as if the sight of the butterfly signaled a moment of ease, they set down a basket and began laying out a picnic.

Popuri, hidden in the shadow of a nearby tree, moved closer, curiosity pulling her toward the scene. She crouched, her heart pounding as she watched her other self spread a checkered cloth across the soft grass. Pete helped her, pulling out neatly wrapped sandwiches and small bottles of juice from the basket.

As they unwrapped their sandwiches, Popuri's gaze fell on a familiar sight—strawberry dogs. The bright pink jam glistened under the sunlight, the savory scent mingling with the sweetness of strawberries. She blinked in disbelief, her heart skipping a beat.

The other Popuri and Pete didn't react as though the meal was strange or unusual. Instead, they exchanged smiles, picking up their strawberry dogs with a practiced ease that suggested this was something they had shared countless times before.

The scene was simple, yet it stirred something deep within Popuri. They looked so at ease with each other. Their movements were fluid, natural, as though they had done this a hundred times before. The other Popuri took a bite, smiling at Pete as if the strawberry dog wasn't just a meal but a symbol of something far greater. A bond. A history. It was as if they had eaten together like this for a long time, something private and uniquely theirs.

The two began talking, their voices as silent as whispers carried away by the wind. Popuri strained to hear, but the dream continued its cruel trick of muting every word. She watched as they chatted, their faces lighting up with laughter, giggling like children sharing a private joke. Pete said something that made the other Popuri throw her head back in laughter, her pink hair catching the sunlight in a way that made her seem radiant, almost unreal.

Popuri's stomach twisted. She didn't understand why watching this filled her with a strange mix of fascination and unease.

Her breath caught as Pete leaned closer to the other Popuri. He reached out, his hand resting gently on hers. The world seemed to still in that moment. Popuri's eyes widened as she waited for what would happen next.

The other Popuri didn't pull away. Instead, a shy blush spread across her cheeks. She looked up at him, her eyes soft, her lips parting as though to speak. Pete's gaze was steady, warm, and full of something that made Popuri's heart ache in a way she couldn't explain.

Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, they leaned toward each other. Time seemed to slow as their lips met in a kiss—a tender, lingering moment that spoke of closeness and connection.

Popuri's chest tightened. Her hands balled into fists as she stood frozen, watching the dream unfold before her. It felt too personal, too intimate. And yet, she couldn't look away.

Just as quickly as it began, the dream shifted. The colors blurred, the edges of the scene dissolving like watercolor paint washed away by rain.

Popuri's eyes flew open, her body jolting upright in her bed. Her breaths came in short, uneven bursts as she clutched the blanket tightly against her chest. The room was dark, but the faint glow of moonlight filtered through her curtains, painting silver patterns across the floor.

Her mind raced as she replayed the dream in vivid detail—the butterfly, the picnic, the kiss. She pressed her fingers to her lips, almost as if she could feel the echo of the other Popuri's emotions lingering there.

"What… what was that?" she whispered into the silence of her room. Her voice trembled, barely louder than the soft rustle of the night breeze outside.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. Her heart still pounded as she hugged herself, trying to make sense of what she had seen.

That version of herself—it wasn't her, and yet it was. That Pete wasn't the Pete she knew, and yet maybe he was. "And that kiss...," she whispered to herself.

Popuri's cheeks burned as she buried her face in her hands. "What does it mean?" she asked aloud, though no one was there to answer.

She stared out the window, the moonlight illuminating her thoughtful expression. Her dreams were no longer just dreams. They were pieces of something larger, something buried deep in her heart. But she doesn't know what or why.