Again, she couldn’t remember where she was. This was happening too many times the past month. Looking around Namjoo assumed she was nowhere dangerous. Roads wound around her and the breeze sung happy notes to her ears. Far away over the hills she spotted homes, maybe a village. Around her thin tall and green trees danced. Left, right, left right.

Peace.

Only she didn’t know where she was. Oh right, she was here again. Wherever here was. Seeking her environment out she spotted no one. Mother always cautioned her to be careful of whomever may be lingering around, because in the days you could never be too safe.

Somewhere behind her Namjoo caught the sounds of water rippling against the shore. Suddenly an image of clear translucent water appeared in her head. Calm washed over her. This was a safe place she instinctively knew. Right, she had been here before. A few times the past month and maybe some time before that.

Confident, Namjoo strode forward ignoring the winding paths on her far left and right that forked out into other roads. The air was light, clean. No pollutants. She didn’t think she’d seen a single individual smoke since she’d come here. And then she was in the village. Conversations, giggling from gossip or the slightest mistakes, and babies crying whirled around her. Little children ran by calling out for their mothers to buy their toys of interest. At one side underneath a store shade men gathered to talk about work and the world’s current issues. Namjoo didn’t know what issues but she knew there were issues.

“Hello, you!” someone called out to her. “It’s nice to see you again!”

With a turn of the head she recognized a pudgy woman happily bouncing around her vegetable stall. Naturally, Namjoo’s arm shot up to wave. She strolled around the market tasting food samples like she always did and escaped before pressured to buy. The shrill cry of an infant split the air like thunder in a storm. Clouds immediately turned dark causing the hair at the back of her neck to stand on end. In the next moment Namjoo was running toward the village’s end. Doors of homes slammed shut, echoing like haunting drums around her. The lively village was abandoned. Sunny and bright now dark and gloomy as if war torn.

The scenery transitioned. It was rainy and cold. Namjoo was left shivering and running left and right, up and down the still district of whatever district it was. Buildings were tall, wide and all of them quiet, lifeless. Not one breath could be heard but her own. And it was loud, panting, short, and struggling. Her feet were heavy, heart up , and eyes heavy with tears. She was very afraid. But of what, she wasn’t sure. She always never did find out. There was only one thing she always knew would happen.

She would die.

Her heavy feet grounded her to the cracked concrete. The lonely silhouette of a woman appeared before her. And cue, ominous music floated through her head. The woman’s face popped out. A long blue tongue dangled lifelessly out of through the crooked of her teeth. Eyes round and on the verge of hanging from her sockets. Her face smeared in unlikely black or was it black? Namjoo screamed, her voice taking with it all the air from her lungs. Her reaction was late. The woman was flying toward her at unimaginable speed, sharp claws prepared to gouge her heart out.

Last time it was an eight-legged human ready to eat her alive. The other time had been a mere human ready to strike with a spear. Once, she had been shoved off a cliff so high her soul nearly drifted from her body. And the worst was when she thought she’d fallen in love. It was the first and last time she’d fought one on one only to get pinned to the floor, fingers tugging at her hair and slamming her face against the ground with monstrous strength.

It was a cycle.

Death over and over.

Each time she lived.

Just like now.

A bolt out of nowhere flew into her and up she went. The rain stopped, the clouds cleared, and heavenly light scattered around her. Soft grass prickled her hands. She was on land, a hill, somewhere remotely safe. Namjoo turned to glance at the savior who always came before the lights went out.

“You came,” she breathed relief. “Sehun.”

He smiled.

Namjoo’s eyes opened to a dimly lit room. The face vanished abruptly. She couldn’t pull it back to memory. Pulling an arm to cover her eyes she sighed then sat up. The sun was already up and shooting rays into her bedroom through her curtains. Getting out of bed she shoved the curtains aside to let the stubborn light in. She washed, brushed her teeth, and went through her closet for the day’s wear.

Namjoo was a college student. In her 4^th year and about to graduate the coming spring. It was currently winter, cold, snowing, icy – hateful mother nature throwing its wrath at the careless humans. Grabbing her coat and scar she shuffled into the kitchen where her stainless steel electric kettle – a gift from her boyfriend’s parents – was bubbling. Pouring it into her mug of coffee she sat down for breakfast.

She began her countdown.

One.

Two.

Three.

Phone rang and she answered. She had perfected her routine so well she no longer watched the clock.

“Are you up?” the male voice on the other side of the line wondered.

“As up as ever,” she grinned.

Her boyfriend of a little over a year, Luhan, had graduated a year earlier. He had been a student exchange from China and had thankfully, decided to stay a little longer for an internship. Namjoo no longer felt so alone in Seoul. Her parents were still on their little farm in Gimje harvesting rice, planting peppers, and living the country life that suited them best. Namjoo, like so many other children, wanted to experience the city life. It was the city life that had given her dreams – double meaning to that. And ever since she’d landed in Seoul her double life had formed.

She was alive even when she slept. She was somewhere else she couldn’t explain. Namjoo knew people and those people knew her as if she had long belonged there. It wasn’t as if she’d physically flown on a plane to a foreign land, yet it was just like that. She landed there whenever she closed her eyes. Namjoo couldn’t even explain it to herself. There were answers she needed, so she’d consulted a therapist. No answer there. No help but suggestions that she start taking sleeping pills to help her restless state. Sighing and withdrawn she never went back. A Tuesday morning when she woke up with the corner of her head bleeding and bruises running down her arms, she once and for all, stopped questioning whether she was hardcore imagining things.

It haunted her. For that entire week, she wore sweaters and long sleeves to keep the bruises hidden. It bothered her when Luhan asked why they couldn’t sleep together in that time.

A few times Namjoo debated whether to tell him about those dreams. She couldn’t. It would make her look unordinary. And no matter how often she rehearsed, the right words for it couldn’t organize themselves into the right sentences. Many times, after spending the night with her boyfriend she’d wake up drenched in sweat, raw inside out, as if someone had dug out her internal organs leaving her empty. Often, she spent a lot of time puking in the bathroom just because she felt so sick.

“Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” she lied.

“Hey, listen,” Luhan said, “I had a scary dream last night.”

Her attention perked up. “It’s probably your imagination.”

What a lie she thought. If only she could tell herself the same. Instinctively, she glanced down at her arms where the bruises once were.

“I know, but it gave me a bad feeling,” Luhan went on.

“What’d you dream?” she was curious.

“I don’t mean to scare you or anything.” He cautioned. “I dreamt that you died. Someone wanted you dead and you died.”

Without meaning to, Namjoo’s eyes jerked toward the space in front of her. Getting up she quietly walked around, searching just to make sure there weren’t any intruders or perhaps a murderer lying in wait. Her heart pounded loudly behind her barricaded ribs, fear making her movements heavy. Walking into the bedroom she did the same. Glanced behind the curtains, drew open the closet door to look inside, even looked under the mattress.

“Are you ok?” Luhan worried. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, I’m not scared,” Namjoo lied sitting on her bed. Restless, she massaged her head. “I gotta go, don’t want to be late for class.”

They ended the call. Without draining the rest of her coffee, she slipped into her coat, wrapped the scarf around her neck while slipping into her shoes and hurried out the door.

Campus was five blocks from her little apartment she afforded half with her parents’ help and with the rest of the money she earned working part-time. Little restaurants and coffee shops had been sprawled about the neighborhood for the poor working class. Even a little 7-Eleven sat around the corner often visited by teenagers and old people looking to make a quick run for grocery shopping. Namjoo often stopped there when stranded inside preparing for exams.

Scurrying past the five foot of snow that had settled in overnight she kept head low against the sharp and whipping winds. They always said to avoid taking 8AM classes, but this semester Namjoo had had no choice. The class she needed only had one time slot so there she was, stuck with a horrid early morning class.

15 minutes later she settled into the back of the lecture room. Notebook and pen on her desk ready for notes. Namjoo often didn’t pass out during presentations but that day was different. She guessed her muscles had been severely tense since Luhan’s mention of his dream that she hadn’t been able to relax till she got to class, because what if halfway there, she died? Unexpectedly, she drifted off and undisturbed.

She was at the entrance of the village. The paths forking ahead and beyond. Over the hill, she spotted the village. Namjoo spun right and left. She had to know where she was. This place, what was it? There was land, a sky above, and villages. She wasn’t in heaven or hell. Where was this?

Her heartbeat race when the bushes nearby rustled. Out burst three little kids chasing each other, giggling and high.

“Come on,” one of them called out to her, “the food is waiting! Mom is waiting! So are the aunts!” and then he disappeared down the road toward the village.

Frowning, Namjoo stared but didn’t move. Something cold spiked her from behind. She gasped, chest heaving up. Frost-like arms s around her shoulders and a voice whispered into her ear, “You’re dead, you know.”

Gasping, Namjoo jolted awake in her classroom. Cold sweat formed around her hairline. Confused, she d the desk, the chair she was in and glanced around. Forgetting embarrassment, she packed up and scurried out of the classroom. Unsteadily, she sped through the walls and pushed her way through the heavy doors. Fresh cold air whipped her in the face and if not for enough mental strength, she would have keeled over to puke. Namjoo nearly slid down the frosty stairs dumping herself into the snow before catching the railing. As the cold soaked into the nerves in her hand she breathed, inhaled, exhaled multiple times before her cloudy vision cleared.

Right, she was alive. She was on campus. And she’d just ran out of class.

Perfect.

Namjoo grit her teeth and debated whether to run back into class to apologize for the hideous interruption. She decided against it. Well, she was done for the day. She wanted back to her apartment. She wouldn’t sleep, but she’d watch some Disney movie or something until Luhan was done with work. Some company would be nice for the evening.

Picking herself up she walked through the campus noting that the wind had stopped. It was still frigid nonetheless but better than the addition of wind slapping her sick. Slowly picking her way through the cleared sidewalk she listened to nothingness. There wasn’t even a student around. She supposed most opted for the warm inside of their dorm or would rather be in class than skipping. Still, it felt weird.

Ignoring the chills, she readjusted her red scarf around her neck and continued forging forward. She still didn’t understand her dreams. Dying wasn’t her worst fear, so why did she dream of it so often? She was certain she had no third eye. No one in her family was into that kind of magic nor had that kind of supernatural stuff been passed down through the generations of Kims. Why was this happening to her?

Dazed but curious, Namjoo tilted her head back. The blue sky was endless above her though it was more gray and gloomy this winter season. There was something up there, she felt, something familiar. Just she couldn’t pinpoint it. Namjoo stared harder as if she could will whatever was up there out. There was a presence. Someone watching. And then the blast of a horn wheeled her back to reality. From her right a car spun a 360 in the middle of the icy road and it was coming right at her.

Horror drew her eyes wide. She screamed but there was no voice. Something hard and heavy tackled her to the ground. Her scarf spilled loosely around her like blood. Namjoo lie dazed. Half of her catching her breath and calming the adrenaline pulsing through her veins. The other half wondering if she was dead.

Head throbbing, she moaned and pulled herself up. The driver raced out of his car to help her to her feet, making sure she was steady and balanced.

“Are you all right, Miss? Oh my god, I am so sorry!” he apologized. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Holding her hand up, Namjoo mumbled, “No, no. I’m ok. I’m not hurt.”

“Are you sure?” he pestered.

“Yea,” Namjoo nodded. All she could think about was the sanctity of her apartment where she so much wanted to be.

He pushed a card into her hand, “If anything, call me if you need help. If you're hurt, please let me know.”

Namjoo didn’t even glance at the card as the driver slowly drove off. Stuffing it into her coat pocket she shook her scarf free of snow, her movements occupied and focused until she finally noticed something from the corner of her eye. Turning she spotted a man in jeans and a brown leather jacket. His eyes were sharp but they yielded worry more than wrath. He was tall, too. Maybe he was a college student?

“What?” she asked. Then she recognized that he was soaked from snow and recalled the tackle from earlier. Was he the one that helped her?

“It’s me.”

Fraught with absurdness, Namjoo glanced around hoping he was talking to someone else. The area was still as empty as earlier. Looking back at him, “Excuse me?”

“It’s me,” he repeated with hope. When Namjoo continued to stare at him quietly he added, “Sehun.”

She didn’t know him. Couldn’t bring an image up in her head nor did she recall knowing someone by that name.

“I am Sehun.” He repeated more coherently as if she didn’t get it the first or second time.

“I’m your guardian angel.”

***THE END!

***Here's my theory about Namjoo's dreams: while she sleeps, her soul travels off into a different place, like astral projection (if you've seen Insidious it's kind of like that, but I'm not going in that direction). Namjoo has entered a spiritual door that she can no longer close or walk back out the same way. She's gone to the world of the dead, she has eaten their memorial service food, and knows missing souls. Because she can no longer walk out that door evil spirits are coming after her as she sleeps because she's in their world and they can kill her. And then comes Sehun, gaurdian angel, who saves her each time, but this time he's entered her world which means big bad things are happening. Or maybe they shared something in the past, the past that transcends across time like they could've been lovers one lifetime but then they died and only Namjoo reincarnated and he's still looking for her but Namjoo has forgotten him but now her soul is walking through doors of unknown and only he can help her because he's not really human.