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“I am the dream,” I whisper.

He tries to fly. These dreamers always try to fly first. He levitates a foot off the grating, all concentration and clenched teeth. freddy krueger movies

“See,” I say, tilting my head. “Elm Street isn’t a place. It’s a lease. And your rent… is past due .” “I am the dream,” I whisper

My glove finds his chest. Not cutting. Not yet. Just resting. The blades cold against his heartbeat. His eyes go wide because he feels it—the realness . In his bed back at Westin Hills, his body just stopped breathing. He levitates a foot off the grating, all

The air tastes like rust and old screams. That’s how I know I’m home.

He sees me then. Stepping out from behind a broken pressure gauge. The fedora low. The sweater stripes bleeding red and green. My face—the geography of a third-degree burn—cracks into a smile.