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Short Story: Over the Hill

by Eric Halverson

    "Bye Dad, I love you," said Cecilia, embracing her father warmly in the cool, foggy morning.
     "See you, honey. I love you too. And remember, we're always here, just over the hill," he replied, smiling through a grimace.
     Cecilia turned to her mother and said, "Let's hit the road."
     They drove slowly out of the small town, pushing through the morning mist that shrouded the familiar storefronts and surroundings of Cecilia's youth. Soon they were ascending the nearby hills that separated the San Joaquin valley from the California coast. Presently the highway flattened out and they drove along the right bank of a great reservoir of water.
     Cecilia noticed one of the green highway signs that dotted the side of the road and noted, "Twenty miles to the junction. An hour or so and I'm going to be in college, Mom… wow."
     "Oh, don't worry so much, Cecilia. You'll be fine," she answered, trying to smile comfortingly. It didn't work.
     "But what if my roommate and I don't get along? She might never shower or maybe she'll wear nothing but black and stare at me while I sleep." She sighed and pulled a green notebook out of her backpack. "Besides that, college isn't exactly going to be a walk in the park. These classes are going to be difficult, not like in high school when all I had to do was show up, do a little homework, and pass tests."
     Her mother rolled her eyes as they passed a cluster of trees. "Hmmm, look. The oaks are a little weak. They usually stand sturdy in the morning breeze, but today they seem spread out thinly, almost like they are lonely."
     Cecilia gazed at the trees, her chin resting in her palm-they did seem sort of funny today. "I'm going to miss home," she murmured, and flipped open her notebook in her lap. She jotted down her course schedule for the umpteenth time, stared at it momentarily, and wrote her college major down in bold, capital letters.

    UNDECIDED

    Cecilia loved to write; she went through notebooks faster than most people could read novels. She wrote only for herself; a stack of used pads that no one else had ever read stood in one corner of her room at home. She copied the single word again and again, writing it in small letters, in handwriting, in giant letters, but no matter how she drew it, it was still the same word. She kept jotting until she dropped the pen and frowned.
     "What's wrong?" asked her mother.
     "Nothing, I just wrote too hard, and my hand kind of hurts; it happens a lot," she explained, wringing her hand. "You know, I'm going to miss all my friends so much. That's the other thing; I have to make completely new friends now, with people that I've never even met. I'm on my own."
     The driver decided this was an appropriate moment to impart some motherly wisdom: "Leaving home is like nothing you've ever experienced. It may be a little scary, but you'll get through it. Just keep your head up and everything will be all right."
     Her daughter sighed and picked up her pen again. The car entered a dark tunnel and Cecilia looked up, unable to make out the words she had written in her green notebook. The tunnel was so dim that she couldn't even tell what color the many other quickly passing cars were. She set her notebook down and relaxed in the deep, inviting seat…

    I'm walking along the middle of a highway, but there are no vehicles or people anywhere in sight, although there should be. Where is everyone? I don't feel lonely or scared though, and I continue ambling along. There is no color anywhere; everything is black, white, or gray, like in the old motion pictures, although the surroundings are well-lit. The thoroughfare arches up into some hills for a while before leveling off and curving to the right. I stare at a knot of large oak trees off to one side. The road straightens out again and in the distance I glimpse two green signs, which really draw my attention because they are not monochrome like the rest of the world. As I approach the signs, everything darkens slightly. The signs begin to resemble a fork in the road-I know that paths diverge up ahead. Suddenly I look down and my left hand has a dull pain; I try to ignore it and keep striding ahead. I stand in front of the signs now and peer around to see if anyone is near, but cannot see a soul. Finally, I look up and heave a sigh of disappointment, for the green signs are completely blank.

    This short story is based on a true recurring dream and the dreamer's life at this time. Events, names, etc. have been changed to befit the story. Hopefully the dream and its relation to the happenings in the main character's life will make sense in terms of modern dream theory and various items that we learned about in class. It's all about a young woman entering a totally new life, unsure about her future. I hope you enjoyed.