The Hill

I have had this recurring nightmare every single night for the past couple of weeks.

It is about me and a very, very tall hill. I have an unloaded pistol in one of my pockets and a bottle of what looks like rum or whiskey in the other. I am lying in a floating rock platform surrounded by pale clouds. Actually, everything is in a black and white sad color scheme. I can see the hill rising from the clouds below and rising well above me. I can hear sobbing coming from what feels like miles above me, but I can hear it well in my ears. I’m wearing a long jacket and a white one piece outfit.

I have the sudden urge to climb and I take it, running towards the rocky slope and scaling it, but I fail on multiple occasions. I fall over and over again, and I finally realize what the bottle is for. It numbs the pain from falling so I can keep on going. I just keep on going, over and over again, until I reach a small rock cave and set down my things and sleep. But I only sleep for so long before I wake up to the sobbing and I have to continue. It’s a long and tedious journey to the next cave, and I realize that I’m only halfway there. I take another swig of my drink whenever I wake up and keep on going. It takes days, maybe even weeks, but I finally make it, my bottle still over half full, and realize what is at the top.

It’s her. Her hair is matted and her head is in her hands. A small brown book sits next to her as well as an empty bottle of pills with a big smiley face on it and a bloody knife next to her. She’s leaning on a dead oak tree, and on the branch right above her there’s a noose hanging like it’s other victims. I walk towards her and sit next to her, grabbing the bottle from my pocket and taking a large gulp. I offer her the drink and she takes it, sipping it. I take off my jacket and hand wrap it around her shoulders, and she just keeps on drinking from the bottle. I’m about to walk away when she grabs my arm with an iron grip and makes me turn around. She’s staring at me with shining eyes and whispers something to me.

“Don’t go,” she says, and I stop. “Just…”

I lean down and grab her hands, and I sit back down. “I won’t,” I say. She asks me if I promise. “I promise, okay?” I say, running one of my hands along her jaw. She flinches, and I flinch too. I can feel this heat emanating from her, and I instantly hug her.

“I won’t ever go,” I say, my voice shaking. She hesitates, but hugs me back.

“Promise?” she whispers in my ear. I nod, and she hugs me tighter.

“I love you,” I say, looking her in the eyes.

“I love you too,” she says, looking me in the eyes.

But then everything starts to fall apart, and she falls away, letting go of me. I can feel myself slip away as I see her fall into the pale clouds and I start to sob. I don’t realize it, but I grab the pistol from my pocket. I can feel the cold steel weight in my hands as the sky starts to crack and I put it up to my head. I can feel a bullet appear inside the chamber as I slowly pull the trigger. I can see everything in my life flash before me as the bullet slams through my skull, ending my nightmare,

Every night is the same result. Who knows, maybe it’ll get worse as time goes on. I bet it will. I highly bet it will.

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