For this project, I decided to write a short story about the consequences of a character’s vain efforts as they try pursue a dream that will never come true.
Was it a nightmare all along?
Vain Dream
Ji-Na Baek gasped for air in the hot dance studio after rehearsing the same song fifty times in front of her manager. She pretended not to notice her manager rolling his eyes as she blinked through the sweat dripping from her bangs.
“Hold fast to your dreams,” Ji-Na recited aloud in-between short, shallow breaths, “for without them life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.”
Langston Hughes was her idol and inspiration ever since her sophomore year in high school. Ji-Na memorized the phrase after learning the poem, “Dreams,” for her school’s poetry jam. The words never left her since then, which is why Ji-Na adopted them as her mantra. And it worked on many occasions whenever Ji-Na grew nervous, such as her audition to become a Kpop idol. However, what used to be her favorite phrase now became her life support. Ji-Na felt trapped in South Korea because she didn’t have a connection to the country outside her Korean heritage. After experiencing many hardships as a trainee, Ji-Na’s mantra only served one purpose–to remind her that she could only achieve her dream here. I’m here because I would’ve never had this opportunity in America, Ji-Na thought.
This is where I belong. I will debut no matter what.
American Hip-Hop music flooded through the speakers. The digital clock mounted above the entrance read 11:45 p.m. Seoul, South Korea. Ji-Na’s clothes and hair were damp with sweat. The manager brushed past Ji-Na, knocking her over.
“I thought Americans knew how to dance,” muttered the manager.
She watched him walk over to his laptop and shuffle through his playlist. He took his vape out of his pocket and faced away from her.
“When will I debut?” asked Ji-Na.
“Soon.”
“How soon?”
He sighed, blowing a cloud of smoke which evaporated once it reached the ceiling. Ji-Na’s vision started blurring.
“I said soon. Now get up and practice.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ji-Na was grateful he answered her this time. Normally, he cursed her out whenever she spoke to him. Maybe I really will get to debut, Ji-Na thought to herself. For the first time since her audition three years ago, she smiled. Ji-Na began pushing herself off the ground. However, she slipped. Ji-Na’s heart palpitated irregularly while her joints trembled with fatigue. She tried again, but her arms gave out.
Thud.
She slammed head-first into the hardwood floor and blacked out.
The manager slammed his vape on the table and turned toward the area where he thought he heard the noise. He shook his head and rolled his eyes when he saw Ji-Na lying on the floor.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the manager asked, walking up to her.
She didn’t respond. That was unusual.
“Hey,” he said, nudging her arm with his foot. “Do you think I’m joking? I said get up! Get the hell up!”
He nudged Ji-Na again. Nothing. This time, the manager rolled her on her on her side. Outraged, he lifted his hand and was about to strike her. However, he froze when he saw blood smeared all over the hairline on her forehead. He reached in his pocket for his phone to call the ambulance, but couldn’t find it. Why now of all times, the manager thought to himself.
A pair of girls walked by the studio. He left Ji-Na behind and ran after them, asking if he could use their phone.
The girls were none other than the recently debuted duo, “Signal.” Despite being a new group, they were very popularity and had already garnered a large fanbase. Everyone knew they would be nominated as the top rookie of the year for the upcoming Kpop award ceremony.
The manager recognized them as the girls who Ji-Na was supposed to debut with and kindly greeted them.
They greeted him and asked what was wrong. He quickly explained what happened, and then asked if he could borrow their phone. They agreed, and the taller girl of the two gave him her phone. When they saw Ji-Na’s manager step out to make the call, the girls glanced over at the dance studio.
They laughed when they spotted Ji-Na on the floor.
“She’s still a trainee?,” the taller girl asked. “What a tragedy.”
“Don’t you think it’s more tragic that she’s still here?” the other asked.
“I heard they only kept Ji-Na here because she’s the company’s first foreign member. Plus she speaks English, so they use her as a translator,” the taller girl said. “For free.”
“Damn,” the other girl said. “But, at least they gave her something to do, even if she is being used.”
“If she was smart enough to figure that out, she would’ve left.”
“Where the hell did that guy go?” the tall girl asked. “I want my phone back.”
“I think he went all the down the hall,” the shorter girl said.
The taller girl took off in search of the manager, while the the shorter girl stayed behind. She reached for her phone in her rhinestone-studded purse and peered into the dance studio. She took pictures of Ji-Na from different angles and then uploaded them online.
Beep… Beep… Beep…
Repeat.
Ji-Na laid unconscious in a hospital bed. The only thing dividing her from the seven other patients in the shared hospital room was a blue curtain drawn on both sides of the bed. A nurse came to check her vitals. All clear.
“She’ll be alright, sir,” the nurse said to Ji-Na’s manager.
“That’s good,” he said, keeping his gaze on the TV.
The new episode of a famous historical drama aired on the flatscreen TV mounted nearby. He was about to look over at Ji-Na until his phone rang. He stepped outside and answered the call.
Ji-Na’s mind raced. And for some reason, it took her back to the past.
She saw herself in America once again, eating dinner with her parents at their local Korean restaurant.
“I can’t wait to leave here,” Ji-Na remembered saying.
This was the time I spent with them before I flew to South Korea.
“Do you really hate it here that much?” Her mother asked.
Ji-Na remembered the disappointed looks on their face. Unlike the Ji-Na from back then, the Ji-Na now knew that they didn’t want her to go.
Why didn’t I understand?
“There’s nothing for me here,” Ji-Na said. “Besides, it’s not like I can debut as a Kpop idol in the U.S. I have to go to South Korea in order to be a Kpop idol.”
“Yes, but,” her father said, “What if you can’t debut? Or what if something happens to you? You know we don’t have money to buy a plane ticket if something happens over there.”
“I’ll be fine,” Ji-Na said. “And I will debut. I didn’t pass the audition for nothing.”
“Don’t listen to your father,” her mom said. “Call us whenever you need to. I’ll come rushing when you do. Understand?”
Ji-Na didn’t remember the rest of the conversation, and the memory eventually faded into nothing. Ji-Na wanted to call them when she got to South Korea, but her phone was confiscated by her manager. She felt guilty that she didn’t find a way to call her parents.
I miss them. How are they doing? Do they miss me?
Ji-Na’s memories then shifted to the present, where her abusive manager, gossiping teammates, and Korean teacher’s criticisms clouded her thoughts. She remembered pretending not to understand their insults and verbal abuse because she thought she would pay them back after having a successful debut. Ji-Na’s dreamt in vain, because none of her plans would come true. She would never debut.
Now, all she wanted to do was give up and go home.
“Help…me,” Ji-Na said, crying.
Not a single nurse heard or saw her when they walked by. Neither did the other seven patients, who were all asleep. Her manager was no-where to be seen.
No one was there for her.
Ji-Na stopped breathing.
Contemporary American Dreams & Nightmares 