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The second night, the dream returned, but more vivid. He heard a woman’s voice humming a melody that felt like a physical weight on his chest. He woke up gasping, his hands stained with the green smudge of crushed leaves, though there wasn't a plant in his room. Desperate for answers, he messaged Clara on the app, but her profile had been deleted.

That night, Elias fell into the deepest sleep of his life. But it wasn't restful. He dreamt of a botanical garden he had never visited, walking through rows of silver-petaled flowers under a moon that looked like a tarnished coin. When he woke, he found a small, perfectly preserved dried violet tucked under his pillow. He brushed it off as a fluke, perhaps something left behind by the previous owner. buy second hand bed online

Driven by a mix of fear and curiosity, Elias began to strip the bed frame. Tucked into a hollowed-out joint where the side rail met the headboard, he found a bundle of letters wrapped in frayed silk. They were dated 1924, written by a botanist named Julian to his wife, Rose. The letters spoke of a "sleeping garden" he was building for her—a place where they could meet in dreams when his travels took him away. The second night, the dream returned, but more vivid