Bascom Hill
The dreams have lessened but they haven't completely stopped. The setting is different every time, but the plot is the same: I'm trapped somewhere with him and his new partner, forced to listen to him talk about the amazing trips they've been on together while she (younger, more fit, and better-employed than I) smiles, silent and smug. I try to escape, but he blocks my path, still demanding my attention. It happened again last night, for the first time in months: He had a wedding band on his hand; silver this time. (It's been gold in other dreams.) Then he was chasing us both. She split off and ran in one direction, and I ran in another. He had to choose. He chased me for a moment, but I knew he would turn and go after her. To make sure he never chased me again, I jumped off the edge of a cliff into the ocean. The Facebook Memory had popped up on my feed earlier in the week: Five years ago, I was at Mt. Rushmore, bleary-eyed from a long road trip, but full