Dreams

There are no hills or forested areas near my home, so I’m not sure how all of this came about.

 

The scene is vivid in my mind although I’m not sure the location actually exists. I was standing next to my good friend Austin, both of us in disbelief at what we were seeing. The sun was setting behind us and the scene grew increasingly darker. In the distance we could see the small group of hills that we had often spent time on. A series of trails ran over the hills and led back into the forested area of the park. It was one of my favorite locations to visit, because it was possible to escape the hustle of the city without actually having to leave it.

 We were about 150 feet back from the circle of police officers and detectives that stood on the nearest hill. The officers moved in and out of the trees and small shrubbery. They wore blue police uniforms with brimmed hats and carried flashlights. The detectives wore long trench coats, and stood with clip boards and cameras in their hands. They marked spots on the ground with little, yellow tags. It was impossible to hear what they were saying due to the distance between us. The only sound was the quiet murmur from the crowd that had gathered.

 Between us and the small group of investigators was a line of parked, police cars with flashing lights, a barrier made of police tape and cones, and a few young officers asking everyone to please take a step back. We pushed our way to the front of the crowd and strained to see what might be happening on the hill. We could see a number of police dogs that were being guided to the area where the group of men were standing.

 "What’s going on?” shouted an elderly woman who was bent at the back and walked with a cane, “What are those men doing?”

 “You’ll have to wait for answers. We are not authorized to share information” one of the officers responded.

 A row of news vans filed in behind the crowd. Large antennas began to rise from the tops of the vans, and film crews stormed into the crowd of people. Immediately they began to interview bystanders and shout questions at the officers. People began to share insights and opinions as to what was happening.  

A dark haired man in his early thirties spoke directly to one of the cameras, “I heard a man was walking on the trail not far from where the men are standing. He saw something that was suspicious and called the police. It looked like something had been buried. That is all I know.”

 Austin tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. I turned from the man speaking to the camera and saw the police direct a large, black van through the barrier and past the parked police cars. On the side of the van was an emblem that read, “Homicide Unit”. When the van parked two men emerged and walked around to the rear doors. They swung the doors open and pulled out a gurney that they wheeled towards the small group of investigators.

 Once on the hill the men with the gurney began to dig with small hand shovels and brushes. The investigators continued to take pictures as the men dug. Flashes of light from the cameras reflected off the trees and lit up the small space around the investigators. In the flashing I saw the two men set their tools on the ground and stoop once more to the spot they had been digging. They slowly slid what looked to be a plastic sheet into the hole they had made. Their progress was painstakingly slow.

Once the sheet was in position they lifted it into the air. I saw the center of the sheet sag down as it was lifted towards the gurney. It was only about 4 feet long. I couldn’t see anything in detail, but the shape the plastic sheet hung in was that of a person in the fetal position. My heart sank as the reality of the situation set it.

 It was an odd location to bury someone. The body was found close to the entry of the park and the location was quite visible from many angles. The park was not huge, but it did have some much more secluded areas. It didn’t make sense that the killer wouldn’t go deeper into the woods and find a densely forested area to bury the body.

 There was no way for me to know how long ago the murder had taken place or how long the body had actually been there. I had gone running numerous times in the park within the last few weeks. I ran down the trail adjacent to the burial location almost every time I went into the park. The thought of this crime occurring in a place that has been so peaceful and enjoyable for me was unsettling. I had spent a lot of my leisure time in the park, never suspecting that something this horrific could ever occur there. I wasn’t sure at that moment if I would ever go back to the park. It would never again have the same feelings of peace and tranquility. It would always be a place where I looked over my shoulder and feared the worst around the next turn.

 The crowd had grown increasingly quiet when the homicide van had arrived. Cameras continued to flash, both on the hill and from the throngs of media personnel that had arrived but I couldn’t hear a sound. I stood outside myself. It felt as though time had stopped. On the hill I saw a one of the investigators walk to the hole where the body had lain. His hands pushed back the trench coat he was wearing and went deep into the pockets in his pants. His body was faced directly towards me. He looked at the hole in the ground and then at the other investigators who stood in a semicircle.

 “There’s been a murder” he said. “Someone killed this poor soul and buried them right here in the ground. It’s a tough case to crack; tougher still because there is no solid evidence. But I believe I can point out the killer with unshakeable certainty.”

 The men standing around the lead investigator nodded their heads in understanding. I was in a trance with my eyes fixed on the scene that was developing. The statement made by the lead investigator did not make sense. How could there be no evidence and yet the identity of the killer is known without a doubt? I turned my head to gauge the reaction of the crowd around me. To my right I saw the crowd had moved a distance from me, and everyone standing there was staring in my direction. I turned quickly to my left and saw the same distance between me and the crowd. The faces on the people in the crowd showed both terror and disgust.

 I looked again towards the hill and the investigators. They had also turned and were looking in my direction. The lead investigator who stood in the center raised his finger and pointed it directly at me.

 “You” he shouted in a slow and demeaning tone. “You!”

 I didn’t understand what was happening. Why was I being accused of this crime? My heart raced as I turned to look for Austin. I needed to see a familiar face. I needed reassurance. I found Austin standing in the crowd with a distorted scowl on his face. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and pointed his finger directly at my chest.

 “You” was all he said.

 The strangest feeling came over me. It was no longer the feeling of “how long can I get away with this?” It was a new feeling, something I had only experienced in a slight degree before. It was guilt. I now thought to myself, “How could you have done this?” Anguish filled my soul as I bent to the ground.

 One by one the lights from the cameras stopped flashing until the world grew dark and calm. I could feel myself moving, but nobody was touching me. I screamed out loud, “I don’t even live near a hill!”