“One. Two. Freddy’s coming for you.
Three. Four. Better lock the door.
Five. Six. Grab a crucifix.
Seven. Eight. Better stay up late.
Nine. Ten. Never sleep again.”
Freddy Krueger with his scarred face, maniacal laugh and ugly knitted sweater was every kid’s worst nightmare. Well, at least he was for me. I grew up at the height of Freddy’s popularity. He was the guest of honor at every slumber party I attended as a young child. While my friends watched as Freddy gleefully slashed his way through unsuspecting children’s nightmares, I sat at the piano and sang.
Freddy was the king of all horror monsters in my world. Not because he was more evil. Not because he was the scariest. But because he came to you in your dreams. IN. YOUR. DREAMS. How could you fight him when he slithered into your sweet dreams of pink ponies and dancing Barbie dolls, bringing darkness and fear as his companions? You couldn’t. You were helpless.
For a long time I avoided scary movies because I didn’t want to deal with the nightmares they caused. I had enough those without watching anything scary! But at some point, I had enough of these monsters creeping around in my dreams and spoiling them. I took control back.
We remember dreams (or nightmares) because we’re lucid or partly awake. Well, if I was awake enough to remember the dream, then I was awake enough to control it. So I did. Every time something scared me, I threw it out. Thanks for stopping by – but this is an invitation only dream, and you aren’t invited. Sayonara sucker.
Today I enjoy the occasional scary movie. I know I can handle it. If one of my so-called monsters stops by to say hi afterwards, I just tell him to hit the road. And Freddy. Well, he’s just a dude in need of a new sweater and manicure. And maybe some good moisturizer.