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... was actually my very first nights in this world. Our small cottage in Millbrook had thin walls, and my makeshift bed was positioned close enough to hers that every restless movement, every whispered word, reached my ears through the darkness.

At first, I dismissed them as ordinary dreams—the kind everyone has when memories resurface unbidden in sleep. But as weeks turned to months, I began to recognize a pattern. The nightmares came with increasing frequency, sometimes multiple times in ...

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