Heaven and Hell

Chapter 4: Dreams

I awoke, startled, and extremely disgruntled. I had probably the most exotic dream I had ever had about Mr. Burns.
He was showing off outfits to me in his bedroom, in each of them wearing the new combat boots. And each time he came in to show his outfit, he was missing a new piece of clothing. First, it was his suit jacket, then his tie, then his shirt, then his pants, and eventually his underwear. Until, finally, he strutted into the room wearing only the boots. I'll admit, I audibly gasped.
Of course, the night led to some intimacy. And, boy, was it pleasant. But, unfortunately, it didn't last very long for the neighbors were at it again with their heavy metal music.
I awoke quite startled and disappointed, to be frank. I had been right in the middle of fucking Monty slowly and softly.
But, there was no use in sitting and moping about it, so I decided to head to the bathroom to take care of my erection. Then, I headed to the kitchen to make breakfast, noticing that I was more groggy than usual.
It was about 20 minutes later that I had another dream. Apparently, I hadn't realized I fell asleep on the couch.
In this dream, I was driving down a dark, winding road. Monty was in the backseat humming along to some disco song that had come on the radio when suddenly I spotted a cat that had jumped in front of the car. I attempted to swerve to avoid it but ended up hitting a large tree.
The first thought that entered my brain was, "Oh God, is Monty okay?"
I leaped out of the car, struggling to push the airbags that had gone off out of my way. To my utter dismay, there was a massive gash on his forehead and he had passed out. I stepped into the car to check if he was still breathing. A sigh of relief escaped my nostrils. He was still alive.
My fingers trembling frantically, I hastily dialed 911 on my phone and explained to the dispatcher the situation and how to find us.
After the call had ended, I tried to calm myself. If Monty awoke, he had to know that everything was going to be okay. I steadied my breathing and continued to hold him, my head finally resting on his chest.
After a few minutes of trying and failing to stay calm, I let myself cry. I continued to sob into his chest until the ambulance arrived.
Eventually, I lifted my head to the sight of flashing red lights. I don't think I had ever felt greater relief in my life. However, the feeling didn't last.
As they lifted Monty out of my arms and into the ambulance, I felt my lower lip tremble uncontrollably. This was some of the worst pain I had ever felt. Watching the love of my life be carried into the back of an ambulance felt worse than being stabbed a thousand times in the chest.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the ambulance to sit beside him. I took his hand and began to stroke it, knowing very well that this might be the last time I would ever do this.
"This must be hard," said the attendant sitting behind me.
Startled, I whirled around towards her.
"I mean, I know if this had happened to my partner, I wouldn't be as calm as you,"
"Oh, um, we're not-" I stopped myself, then cleared my throat. "Thank you."
About half-way through the ambulance ride, Monty regained consciousness. He turned toward me and just stared into my eyes, painfully, for a little while before finally weakly saying, "Smithers, what's going to happen to me?"
I squeezed his hand gently and said, "Everything's going to be okay, sir, I promise,"
He nodded slowly, then passed out again.
As we continued to drive to the hospital, I wondered if I had the strength to do this. Monty had had many close encounters with death before, but something told me this wasn't going to end the same way as the others.
I continued to hold his hand and gently caress his arm as they ushered him through the hospital hallways, towards the emergency room. It was extremely stressful: doctors and nurses began to surround us, shouting information at each other that just sounded like an incomprehensible tornado of words to me. I made sure to man my post by Monty's side; I knew he needed me more than ever right now.
Soon enough, we reached the doors to the ER. I boldly began to step inside, but was held back by a nurse.
"I'm sorry, sir, but no one except doctors and nurses are aloud in the operation room," he said.
I sighed painfully.
"Well, can I at least know what you will be doing to him?" I asked, panic evident in my fragile voice.
"He's had an almost fatal heart attack, so we'll need to revive him. If he survives, we will treat the wound on his forehead. I'm very sorry this happened, sir, I know it can be especially hard losing a husband," he explained. As he said the last sentence, he put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a reassuring look. "We'll let you know how the revival goes,"
I nodded slowly, a million thoughts swirling in my head, all at once. As I trudged to a nearby chair, I failed to push away my depressive thoughts. I couldn't bear to lose Monty, I just couldn't.
My legs shaking uncontrollably, I sluggishly sat down. I felt like I was falling down a bottomless, dark hole. Each breath I took was agony. Each second felt like a thousand years. That's when I began to hyperventilate.
My lungs gasping for air, I slunk deep into my chair, hot tears streaming down my cheeks for the fourth time that night. My vision slowly began to fade, as I choked on my tears. I was drowning and no one would pull me back to the surface.
Suddenly, the same nurse I had talked to before burst out of the emergency room doors. I studied his face intently, searching desperately for a sign that Monty had survived. Alas, I found none.
The nurse shook his head, tears clouding his vision as well. I bolted up from my seat and drunkenly stumbled toward him.
"Can-can I see him, plea-please?" I pleaded, my voice even shakier from before.
He nodded.
I ran into the room, silently signaling for the doctors to leave.
Monty laid peacefully on the bed. I walked toward him. All coherent thoughts seemed to leave my mind as I collapsed into his chest. I sobbed harder than I ever thought possible.
After 10 minutes of just crying and incomprehensible muttering, I finally said something.
"Monty, I never got to tell you that I loved you. And for that, I apologize. I was too much of a fucking coward to ever tell you how I really felt. Now, you will sleep peacefully never knowing of my love for you. Serving you was the only thing that brought my life any purpose. Now, I have no reason to live. I will hang myself when I return to my apartment, Monty, just for the mere chance of getting to join you in heaven. I love you, Monty, more than anyone and more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. I hope you somewhat knew that in life, even though I never got the chance to tell you. I love you, Monty."
I sat there for a few moments, taking shaky breaths. Then, I stood up and walked out of the room, not daring to look back for I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it. And that's when I finally woke up.

I awoke panting and sweating profusely with only one thought in my mind: "I need to tell him".