Aliya of Bahariya

The Mountain

It's very early in the morning, one of the most peaceful times of day, I've come to realize. I'm lying on my side by the edge of the pool, staring at the water. I dip my fingers in it, running them through the liquid gold. I lift my hand and watch the droplets form on my fingertips before falling back into the water. I let one of the droplets fall on my tongue.

There is the most exquisite and lovely sound of early morning birds chirping. I play more with the water, taking handfuls and letting it slip through my fingers.

It would be prudent to periodically head back to the mountain, perhaps I might see something else that will help me. Yes, that would be wise. I sigh and roll onto my back, closing my eyes, letting my hand stay in the water. Giddy, I feel like I haven't a care in the world, now that my life isn't in danger. Perhaps I can go to the mountain tomorrow. Yes, I watch the sunrise clouds drift lazily above me. Tomorrow.

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It doesn't take long for me to glean the ground of dates. I resort to throwing rocks at the ones on the trees. Collecting a small hill of rocks by my feet, I begin an attack which is mostly a failure. It takes a bit of time and many stones but once a few hit the bunch dead-on, pieces begin to fall, which I scavenge.

I spend a couple of days trying to make a covering out of palms from the date trees for when I sleep. Often my nightmares wake me up and I desperately wish I could be hidden by something. I awkwardly try to intertwine the fronds together and get frustrated when the green tendrils break as I knot them. Sometimes I get so fed up with myself and the situation that I destroy any progress I'd made with the branches by ripping them apart, stomping on them, and throwing them into the pool. Then I sigh, forage new branches and any that can be salvaged after my outburst and get back to work. Sometimes I walk in circles around the leaves, scowling at them, muttering to myself, trying to approach putting them together in a different way. Eventually my hard work becomes a mediocre cover; it never keeps me warm but it does well enough to hide my body.

I have this one dream, almost every night, where I'm lying over the back of an animal who is galloping very fast. No straps hold me to him and I have no control over my body, so I flop all over the place on the bumpy ride; it's always a marvel to my dream self that I don't fall off. My eyes are wide open, unable to close, catching glimpses of sand on fire beneath the animal's hooves, and a night sky so black and close to me that I can't breathe. The ride knocking me around makes it so that my gaze is constantly shifting between sand then sky, sky then sand. Fire to void, void to fire.

Eventually the animal abruptly stops and I fall hard into the blaze. This is always the point where I wake up, and as I regain consciousness I have the sensation that I'm falling. I gasp and recoil from where I'm sleeping, convinced that I've actually fallen into the flames. Then I realize it was the dream and gulp cool night air, trying to calm my shaking body.

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I walk to the mountain three times a day to survey the land. I intertwine palm fronds and create a small pouch so I can bring dates with me. I wish to have something so that I can transport water, but nothing has come to mind so far.

I usually try and time the journeys with sunrise and sunset because they provide some of the nicest views, especially when I'm high up. I suppose I go to the mountain mainly to enjoy the clouds at these times, I don't feel so lonely when I'm looking into the sky. A few days ago I realized that I might not see anything, or anybody, for a long time. Sometimes I'll lay back, feeling desolate, until only the coming of darkness drives me back to the pool.

Traveling to the mountain is bittersweet; on one hand, going there crushes my spirit three times a day to have to look all around myself and see nothing in every direction. It makes me feel like I'm only person alive: just me and sand. At least where I am now doesn't have the mountains of sand, but I know they're back there and that's enough to bother me.

On the other hand, the beauty of the landscape touches my heart. Everything is so peaceful: still and clean and calm. And as much as I have no say in what it does, or what happens to it, or have any part to play in how beautiful it is, somehow I feel like it's all for me.