Chapter 57: Sweet Dreams Are Made of Screams
Night blanketed Springwood like a funeral shroud, drowning the entire town in deathly silence.
Glen lay in his comfortable bed, already deep in sleep.
The day's arguments and Nancy's paranoid terror had left him emotionally drained.
He just wanted a good night's rest, to put all that insane "dream killer" bullshit out of his mind.
The dream started hazily. He found himself in a hot, humid, rust-scented basement.
The low rumble of burning boilers echoed through the air, and pipes crisscrossed the walls, occasionally belching jets of hot steam.
This was the boiler room—the exact place Nancy had frantically described at the diner.
Glen's stomach dropped, and ice shot up his spine.
He wanted to wake up, desperately tried to force himself awake, but his body felt like it was filled with concrete, and his eyelids wouldn't open no matter how hard he tried.
"Hehehehe... hey there, kiddo. Sleeping well?"
A raspy, sharp voice—like nails on a chalkboard—echoed through the empty boiler room.
Glen spun around in horror and saw the figure Nancy had warned him about.
A man wearing a filthy red and green striped sweater and a worn brown fedora pulled low over his face.
But his exposed skin looked like charred meat, covered in wrinkles and grotesque burn scars.
"Clang... clang..."
Steel claws scraped lightly against metal pipes, producing a series of grating, teeth-grinding sounds.
The man—Freddy Krueger—was approaching step by leisurely step, a playful yet sadistic grin on his ruined face.
"Nancy, that little bitch, always likes to spoil my fun." Freddy cackled. "But it don't matter—I'll take care of you first, and she'll come join you real soon. You kids are like sheep to the slaughter. Not a single one of you is getting away!"
Glen's terror spiked and he turned to run.
But in the dream, his legs felt like they were moving through molasses, every step impossibly heavy.
Freddy, meanwhile, glided behind him like a ghost, savoring the pleasure of watching his prey's futile struggles.
"Run, run!" Freddy's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. "Let's see if you can run outta my dream!"
Glen stumbled and crashed hard to the ground. He looked back in despair—Freddy was standing right over him, raising that deadly steel-clawed glove high.
"Game over, kiddo!"
The cold steel talons slashed down viciously!
"AAAHHH!"
Glen's scream tore from his throat, but the sound was trapped in the dream, unable to escape into reality.
He could feel his chest being ripped open by razor-sharp blades, and searing pain engulfed his entire body.
At the same time, on his bed in the real world, Glen's body convulsed violently. His t-shirt ripped open across the chest by an invisible force, and three deep gashes—down to the bone—appeared out of nowhere, instantly soaking the sheets with blood.
In the dream, Freddy grabbed Glen's ankle and, with a sinister grin, started dragging him under the bed.
Glen was horrified to discover that beneath his bed was no longer the hardwood floor—but a bottomless pit filled with rapidly spinning industrial grinders, like a massive meat processor!
"Come on, baby, let's see if your bones are tough enough!" Freddy's strength was impossible, and Glen's body was being slowly dragged toward that horrifying abyss...
On the other side of town, Nancy tossed and turned at home, unable to sleep.
Freddy's words from her dream kept echoing in her mind—he'd said Rod was next, then them... Rod was already dead, so that meant...
A terrible realization hit her like a freight train—Glen!
Nancy's heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. A crushing sense of dread made her bolt out of bed, not even bothering with shoes, just grabbing her car keys and rushing out of the house.
The streets were deserted at this ungodly hour. Nancy floored the accelerator, and her car roared toward Glen's house like a bat out of hell.
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
Nancy pounded on Glen's front door like a woman possessed, tears streaming down her face. "Open up! OPEN UP! Glen's in danger!"
Soon, lights flickered on inside. Glen's parents, startled awake, opened the door rubbing their sleepy eyes.
"Nancy? Honey, it's almost three in the morning, what—" Glen's mom hadn't finished speaking before Nancy shoved past her.
"Glen! Something's wrong with Glen!" Nancy tore up the stairs like a madwoman, reaching his bedroom door.
But the door seemed locked from the inside—no matter how hard she pushed, twisted the knob, or threw her weight against it, it wouldn't budge an inch.
"Glen! Open the door! GLEN!" Nancy's screams were pure desperation.
Glen's parents followed, and seeing the scene, immediately panicked.
Glen's dad threw his shoulder against the door repeatedly, but the solid wood door might as well have been solid steel—it didn't move at all.
From inside the bedroom, they could faintly hear Glen's muffled whimpers—like his throat was being crushed—and chilling metallic scraping sounds.
Just as Nancy and Glen's parents were sinking into complete despair, helplessly pounding on that impenetrable door—
A calm, steady voice spoke behind them.
"Need a hand?"
All three whipped around to see two unfamiliar figures standing at the top of the stairs, having appeared without a sound.
The one in front was a young guy with sharp features and an eerily calm demeanor, like he was just taking a casual stroll.
A girl stood beside him, regarding them with equal composure.
Edward and Alan.
"Who the hell are you? How'd you get in here?" Glen's father demanded warily.
Edward didn't answer. He simply tilted his head slightly upward.
A soft, warm halo of golden light quietly appeared above his head, illuminating the dim hallway with an almost heavenly glow.
The light wasn't blinding—instead it carried a power that dispelled darkness and calmed frayed nerves.
Nancy and Glen's parents were rendered speechless by this impossible, supernatural sight.
"Move."
Edward's voice wasn't loud, but it carried undeniable authority. The three instinctively stepped aside.
Edward walked to the door and, without even backing up for momentum, casually raised his foot and gave it a light kick.
"BOOM!"
The explosion of sound. The solid wooden door—which several adults couldn't budge—was completely blown off its hinges along with part of the frame, crashing heavily onto the bedroom floor.
The scene inside made everyone gasp.
Half of Glen's body had already been dragged under the bed, with only his upper torso still visible, thrashing violently.
His chest was a bloody ruin, his eyes squeezed shut, his face twisted in agony and terror.
An invisible force was pulling him downward, trying to drag him completely into the sinister darkness beneath the bed.
Edward didn't hesitate for even a heartbeat. He stepped inside and, before anyone could blink, grabbed Glen's convulsing arm.
"Purification."
He spoke the word silently in his mind.
An invisible energy—imperceptible to normal human senses—surged from his palm and flooded into Glen's body.
"AAAHHH—!!!"
A horrific scream—definitely not Glen's voice—filled with pain, malice, and rage, seemed to erupt from another dimension, exploding throughout the entire room.
The sound was so piercing that Nancy and the others had to clap their hands over their ears.
The next second, the invisible force yanking on Glen suddenly vanished.
"GASP!" Glen's eyes flew open, and he sucked in air like a drowning man finally breaking the surface.
He stared in horror at the wounds on his chest, then at Edward standing by the bed, his eyes filled with the confusion and terror of someone who'd just narrowly escaped death.
"What... what happened... I..."
"Bad dream." Edward released his arm, his tone as casual as if he'd just mentioned the weather.
Glen's parents finally snapped out of their shock, rushing forward to embrace their son. When they saw the three hideous gashes across his chest, Glen's mother nearly fainted on the spot. His father, hands trembling, immediately grabbed his phone to call 911.
Just then, an authoritative voice cut through the chaos.
"Nobody move! I'm Lieutenant Donald Thompson, Springwood PD." A middle-aged man in pajamas but radiating cop authority emerged from behind Nancy. This was Nancy's father, who'd followed her there. "You two—you're coming down to the station with me. Now."
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