My world was fuzzy and soft around the edges. I tried to call out to Mrs. Marsh as she strode briskly by, scolding her small, shaggy haired boy as he tried to steal an apple from Old Man’s fruit cart. She didn’t even turn her head, just slapped the blurry-edged boy on the hand. It smelled like peaches, which was odd, because there were no peaches present in this town square. I smelled my hands, even though I knew I wouldn’t find the scent there. It wafted through the air tantalizingly, like a wish that was too good to be true.             A wavy, soft beam of orange drifted past Old Man’s fruit cart. It penetrated straight through the heads of the women and chests of the taller men that were doing their weekly shopping. They were still edged in a gentle white glow. I reached out to touch this mysterious beam, but I was merely grabbing air. It was the most beautiful color I had ever seen. It was the color of the sunset reflecting on a lake and the sweetest peach all at once. The scent of the peaches still floated into my nostrils, and now I knew which direction it came from. I smelled the beam, just to confirm my suspicions. It made my mouth water. I licked my lips and ran after the beam, barely dodging the softly glowing crowd.             I went to shove a woman aside in my mindless pursuit of a peach, a wonderful peach, one that held all of the memories that I had almost forgotten, and realized that my hand had sliced straight through her blurry middle. I shrieked and stopped, thinking I should apologize to this woman, when I noticed that she had just kept walking, striding to the baker’s cart as if my hand had not nearly cut her in half. I took several shallow breaths, trying very hard to calm myself down, before I checked my hand. It was completely unmarked. Vaguely, I wondered, am I dreaming? But I knew that this was impossible. The smell of the peach came back and snapped me into my senses again. My head snapped like a whip to my left, where I spotted that beautiful orange beam.             I began to pursue it again, and before I could even think clearly again I was outside of the town square and headed for the forest, first crossing through an empty, clouded field.
            When I found myself in the forest, I slowly started to recognize it, like something drifting from a dream or maybe even a memory, though I wasn’t sure which. I heard a distant dripping of water, unfamiliar to me but yet familiar all at once. The water grew louder as the orange beam led me closer, I supposed. The peach continued to taunt me, drove me through the soreness in my legs and feet.             A tiny waterfall, clouded slightly by that odd white glow, emerged from the trees. That beautiful beam fell away, evaporating as if it was never present. I cried out in alarm, swiping my hands wildly through the path where it used to be. I even felt tears streaming down my face in the sheer longing for a long-forgotten peach. I sniffed and dragged myself hopelessly to the waterfall. The water was clear and fresh, unlike the water that sat in my family’s well, but I was too upset to admire it. I cupped my hands under the blurred, glowing water that fell down the rocks and drank it.             “I see that you have arrived,” a man’s voice emerged from the darkness of the forest. I froze. The familiar unfamiliarity of his voice haunted me, frightened me.             He was a tall, dark looking man when he stepped out, on the other side of the small pool of the water. I stood, so that I would look taller than I actually was. His hair fell down into nearly-black eyes that made even the small smile he wore look intimidating.             “Who are you?” I asked fearfully. The smile fell away from his face.             “You don’t remember,” he said, less of a question and more of a statement. I shook my head ever so slightly, too timid to do anything else.             He sighed and nodded. “You’re frightened,” he said, again stating the fact bluntly rather than asking. I nodded, though I meant to shake my head. He smiled sympathetically.             “What a shame. I really thought that you would be the one to remember,” he said absently, his eyes looking past my head.             I furrowed my brow as the sweet smell of a peach floated up my nose. I looked at this man curiously. He gave me what I think normally would be interpreted as a cold smile, but somehow I knew (from a dream or a memory, I couldn’t figure out which) that it wasn’t. From his black coat pocket he pulled out a peach and tossed it into my hands.             “Goodbye,” he said, as I watched him stride away, such a familiarly unfamiliar stride that it drove me insane. The strong scent of the peach taunted me, and however much I longed to open it, I knew that I had come for what the orange beam had wanted me too. I realized that I knew this man, whether from a dream or a memory, I would discover.