Kathy’s Nightmare

by Alex Dagman (12)

Author’s note: This piece is intended to be an extra chapter in the novel Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, a dystopian novel that features a world in which clones are created for organ donation. It picks up after the last chapter as a short continuation of the novel. Here, the main character Kathy has a nightmare, which is supposed to reflect her psychological state (quick recap: Ruth died a few months ago, and Tommy died just a few weeks ago). In this nightmare, Kathy finds herself standing somewhere that she doesn’t quite recognize. It reminds her of the Cottages, which is where Kathy and her friends end up living right after they finish school.

What? Where am I? What the––

As I walked outside, I realized I stood somewhere on a farm. I smelled a faint hint of hay drifting in my direction, probably coming from the barn across from where I stood. For some reason, unknown to me, I was reminded of the Cottages. I felt like I was back there––Tommy, Ruth, Chrissie, Rodney. All of them were there. I felt safe. I felt at home. Yet there was something slightly off––something I just couldn’t put my finger on. Everything felt… grey. Something was missing.

While I pondered over what it was that was putting me off in such a strange way, my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Rodney’s “Hey!” from across the farm.

“Listen! Ruth,” he shouted as he jogged in her direction, slowing to a stop when he approached her. “So Chrissie and I were thinking the other day, we want to go somewhere. Like a trip. We’d go just for a day. It wouldn’t be anything too crazy. We just want to get out of here for a bit. It feels a bit stale sitting around here all day not really doing much. But we were thinking, would you like to come with us? We’d probably go sometime next week. Tommy should come too!”

I felt like I was watching a replay of one of my memories from those days. The Norfolk trip quickly flashed before me, hitting me with an intense feeling of Deja Vu, before disappearing back into the depths of my memory. I leisurely slid over to them in an attempt to insert myself into the conversation. I didn’t interrupt; I just hoped one of them would end up including me eventually. After a few minutes without even a glance in my direction, I tried to tap Ruth’s shoulder but before my hand reached her, she shuddered away. As I drew my hand back, Ruth ran off in search of Tommy.

I was a bit hurt by Ruth’s complete indifference to my presence, but more than that I was confused. Ruth was the type of person to just blatantly push you out of the conversation, not just pretend you didn’t exist. Rodney didn’t pay any heed to my presence either, which was strange because Rodney had nothing against me. We’d spoken to each other maybe on one occasion before now. And that shudder? What was that all about?

In that one single moment, a couple of days passed - if not a whole week - and miraculously quickly at that.

I must be dreaming. What’s going on?

I saw Tommy come out of the barn I’d noticed earlier when I walked out of the room I woke up in. Speaking of which, where even was that room? It couldn’t have been more than 10 paces away from where I was standing, yet somehow the only structures in sight were the barn Tommy just came out of and the old farmhouse that stood no closer than 150 meters away.

As Tommy ran off to join Chrissie, Rodney, and Ruth packing for their trip, I shouted to him, and yet again I was completely ignored.

Huh.

I remembered Ruth’s shudder in response to my attempt to pat her shoulder, and decided to experiment with the situation to find out what was going on.

I walked over to the group and reached toward Tommy. The moment I touched his hand his body shivered violently as if the temperature suddenly dropped by 50 degrees.

“Tommy? Ruth?”

…

“Can you guys hear me? See me? Anything?”

… At this point I started to panic. What was going on? I started jumping around, breaking twigs, throwing stones all around, but nothing came of it.

“You guys ready? Everyone’s all packed?”

“No no no! You can’t leave me like this! Hello? Tommy! Ruth! Rodney! Hello? Anyone? I’m right he––”

“I think so. Ruth and I just have these two bags. One for each of us. We’re ready to go.”

“Alrighty then. Hop in.”

At this point I was practically yelling. I didn’t know what to do to get their attention. As the engine started to rumble, I jumped on the back of the car in a last ditch effort to somehow get someone’s attention. When no one even glanced behind them to figure out what the noise was, I realized it was futile. I slid off the car and watched as it went from being the size of a car, to the size of my fist, to the size of the tip of my thumb, to the size of a dot, to just gone. I lethargically took two steps toward the road, but only managed to trip and fall. I picked myself back up only to fall right back down, but this time I kept going. The ground disappeared before my feet. I started falling toward a seemingly never ending abyss. It just kept coming. I kept hearing Tommy and Ruth’s jubilant remarks as they were socializing in the back of Rodney’s car––almost as if I were there. I could hear them; I just couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. It was right there. Right at the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn’t make it out. Their voices soon got drowned out by the sound of my own breathing and my own heartbeat as I continued to fall deeper and deeper into this chasm I’d found myself in.

And just like that, all of a sudden I woke up. I took a few steps around, pinching myself a couple times just to make sure I was in reality. I thought about Ruth and Tommy, only to realize for the hundredth time that they’re gone. They exist in my mind––in my dreams––but that’s all they are: dreams and memories. And at this point, that’s all they’ll ever be. I walked out to my car, sank into the seat of my 1984 Cadillac Eldorado, a gift from one of my hospitals for taking successful care of 100 donors, and made my way to the facilities to try and preserve what normality I had left in my life now that Ruth and Tommy had gone. I figure one day I’ll join them––wherever they are. Someday, once I’m no longer a carer, I can drift into the abyss of my own mind while doped up on morphine. I, at least, hope my donations will go well––like Tommy’s. That’s what I was made for after all.