What appears before your eyes when you hear the word forest? Perhaps majestic deciduous oak forests, full of life and freshness, or, for example, a spruce forest somewhere beyond the Arctic Circle in the kingdom of centuries-old ice and snow. In any case, the forest and nature in general evoke pleasant associations in people. But why, when we find ourselves in the environment itself, in the forest itself, on some subconscious level we feel uncomfortable, it seems to us that an unknown threat lurks somewhere. But is this threat something real or do we perceive the forest as the personification of those forgotten times when paganism and tradition formed the basis of human beings? What if the dark forests that spread their branches above our heads still preserve the memory of the past and of ourselves?