Janie stares. “Who is that?”

Henry looks at Janie. “That’s Dottie.”

“You mean Dorothea? Dorothea Hannagan?” Janie can’t get over it, even though she knew there was probably some kissing involved there somewhere.

“Yes.” He sighs. “The one true love of my life.”

Janie wants to gag.

Miss Stubin interrupts. “Tell us what happened, Henry. Between you and Janie’s mother. Will you?”

He looks tired. And it’s cold in there. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Please, Henry,” Janie says. She wants to hear him say it. Wants that validation that she’s doing the right thing.

“We worked together in Chicago one summer—she was in high school, I was at U of M. In the fall, I went back to Michigan. She quit school and followed me. We lived together. It was terrible. The dreams. I had to choose—be with her, miserable, or be able to function, alone.” He begins to pull at his hair again. “Oh, hell,” he says. “It’s coming back.”

“So you just left her to fend for herself? Did you know she was pregnant?”

“I didn’t know.” His voice grows louder, as if he’s trying to talk above the noises in his head. “Janie, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I sent her money. She wouldn’t take it. I’m so sorry.” He squats down, head in his hands.

“Are you glad you did it? Glad you isolated yourself?” Janie gets down on the floor by him, anxious to get answers now.

“Help me,” he squeals. “Help me!” He grabs her T-shirt. “Please, Janie, Please please help me! Kill me! Please!”

Janie doesn’t know what to do. Miss Stubin tries desperately to calm him, but nothing works.

“Are you glad?” Janie shouts. “Are you? Was it the best choice?”

“There is no best. It’s Morton’s Fork.” He falls to the floor with a scream. “Help me! Oh, GOD. HELP ME!”

Janie looks at Miss Stubin in horror and sees the cracks in the scene. Pieces of the dream begin to fall away. She can hear the static in the distance. “Shit,” she says. “I can’t stay in this.”

“Go!” Miss Stubin says.

They clasp hands for a moment. Look into each other’s eyes, Janie desperately trying to communicate that she’s not coming back.

Not sure if it translates.

But it’s time to go, before she gets trapped here again.

Janie concentrates and with all her strength, bursts through the dream barrier.

As Janie lies on the floor, shaking, trying to move, trying to feel her skin, trying to see, all she can think about is the look on Miss Stubin’s face and the complete, hopeless desperation of Henry, overcome by his own demons.

Oh.

Miss Stubin.

What an awful way to say good-bye forever.

Slowly, exhausted, Janie pulls herself to the chair next to Henry’s bed. Her joints, even her teeth, ache, and she wonders just what happens to her body when she’s in a nightmare like that.

But it doesn’t matter now.

She is done with them.

Janie wraps herself in the blanket to help stop her body from the uncontrollable shaking. She can barely stand to look at poor Henry’s twisted face. Sometime since she’d been here last, Henry pulled himself up into fetal position, hands fisted up by his head, as if to protect himself from the terrible unseen monsters that have taken him hostage. Janie reaches over to him. Touches his hand. Holds it.

She pleads with him. “Please, please just die. Please.” She whispers it over and over, begging Henry to let go, begging his invisible captors to let him go. “I don’t know how to help you.” She buries her face in her hands. “Please, please, please . . .” The words brush the air in rhythmic patterns like willow branches shushing the waves on the shore of Fremont Lake.

But Henry doesn’t die.

A half-hour ticks away on the clock. It feels beyond real in the dark, quiet room, like they are in a world cut off from everyone else. Janie snacks on the last sandwich from her backpack, trying to regain some strength, and then she starts talking to her father to help pass the time.

She tells Henry about Dorothea, choosing her words carefully so as not to say anything too negative—she knows Henry doesn’t need to hear negative stuff in his condition. Janie talks about herself, too. Tells him things she’s never told anybody else, like how lonely she’s been.

She tells him that she’s not mad at him for not knowing about her. And she talks about her secret dream-catcher life, that she is just like him. That she understands. That he’s not crazy—and he’s not alone. Everything comes rushing out—dream catching, her job, Miss Stubin, and Janie’s plan to just stop all of the dreams and have a nice quiet life like Henry. “I’m doing it too, Henry,” she says. “I’m isolating, like you. You probably didn’t even know about the real choice, did you? About the blindness and the loss of your hands.”

And then Janie tells Henry that she understands why he did what he did to Dottie, even though he loved her so much. She understands that horrible choice. She tells him about Cabe. How much she loves him. How good he is, how patient. How torn she is about what this isolation plan means.

How scared she is of telling him.

Saying good-bye.

It’s amazing, having someone who is just like her.

Someone who understands.

Even if he’s unable to respond.