"Oldman Jerry, how has your sleep been lately?"
On Elm Street, an elderly man was chatting with his long-time friend. The "Oldman Jerry" he spoke of was also a white-haired, elderly man. Upon hearing his friend's question, Jerry could only give a helpless smile.
"Tom, you know how it is… just the existence of that guy has turned this place into a nightmare. Young people don't even want to live here anymore. How good do you think my sleep could possibly be?" Jerry said helplessly. He stretched his stiff body and looked out toward the bleak, desolate street, a trace of sorrow in his eyes.
The town where Elm Street was located used to be a lively place. Although it declined a bit under the impact of modern economic changes, life had still been fairly good for most people.
But ever since that nightmare appeared on Elm Street and brutally killed many young residents, Elm Street was no longer the same.
People lived in constant fear of this place. After all, simply falling asleep meant they might be killed by Freddy in their dreams. With that kind of terror, many residents developed chronic insomnia. But people are just people—no one can stay awake forever. And so, many decided to flee Elm Street.
Especially after the first person who escaped claimed that Freddy had never appeared in their dreams again, everyone realized that Freddy's power seemed to be confined only to Elm Street.
From there, more and more people fled. In a country as vast as the United States, there were too many places one could move to—especially somewhere like New York, filled with job opportunities. Under such circumstances, Elm Street grew more and more desolate. In the end, only the elderly residents remained—ordinary old folks who were too weak to move elsewhere.
"Hey, you won't believe it, but now when I see Freddy in my dreams, I'm actually kind of happy. There are so few people left to talk to." Tom rubbed his hands, which were covered in age spots. Time had carved deep marks on him, making him look extremely old.
"Yeah… but even Freddy feels like he's just going through the motions now. He just shows up for a moment in the middle of the dream and leaves." Jerry sighed. This was Freddy they were talking about—the nightmare who once terrified countless people, forcing them to take medication just to stop themselves from dreaming. And yet now… he had become so mellow.
It was absurd.
Jerry still remembered the bully he met in school—how the boy fell asleep in class and was then sliced cleanly in half by Freddy, blood splattering everywhere. After that incident, more than half the students and teachers left the school. Those who didn't immediately leave were already packing.
Jerry and Tom sat in the yard, basking in the sun while talking. Jerry looked at his now-aged dog beside him and gently patted its head.
He himself was old too. Who knew how many years—or months he had left? Sometimes, when Jerry lay in bed and closed his eyes, he wished he would never wake up again. That way, he could finally leave this world forever… and no longer be trapped in this failing, aging body.
Youth was wonderful—running freely, endless energy. But now? Every day he felt tired, lacking vitality, barely able to move around. Exercise had become difficult. This aging body was a burden, a torture he endured every minute of the day.
That night, Jerry lay in bed as usual. He lived alone—his wife had passed away three years ago, and the house felt emptier with each passing year.
His children worked in other cities, started families of their own. They had invited him many times to move in with them, to enjoy his old age in comfort. But after living in one place for decades, it wasn't easy to simply leave.
So, Jerry chose to remain here, letting his body return to the soil of the land that raised him.
"Freddy…"
Jerry murmured the name as he drifted into sleep.
"Hey, Jerry."
A youthful voice greeted him. Jerry froze. When he opened his eyes, he did not see Freddy's grotesque face. Instead, he saw his wife—his young wife smiling gently at him. Jerry stared blankly. Could it be? Had he finally gotten his wish? Had he died peacefully and reunited with his beloved, ready to enjoy the afterlife?
"Jerry? You're here too?"
A familiar voice called out. Very familiar—he had heard it this morning. But the voice earlier had been raspy and old. Now…
"Tom?"
Jerry turned around and saw his old friend, Tom—but not the Tom of today. This was Tom from decades ago, from Jerry's memories. They had even fought over a girl in their youth. But now, both of them had grown old.
Yet the Tom standing before him looked so young, as though time had rolled backwards.
More and more familiar faces appeared. Jerry watched in astonishment as elderly friends—those few remaining residents of Elm Street—appeared one by one. Since so few remained, everyone knew each other well. They had even made a promise: whenever one of them passed away, the others would visit and celebrate that another friend had finally escaped the suffering of life.
And now…
They all looked young again.
Jerry stared at his own hands. The age spots were gone. The scent of old age on his skin had faded. He looked and felt as though he had returned to the past…
"Hello, Residents of Elm Street."
A familiar voice spoke. Jerry turned his head and saw Freddy, still dressed in a sharp suit—but with the same ugly, scarred face. Everyone stared at him, surprised.
"Freddy, what is the meaning of this?"
Jerry's voice trembled with anger. He craved death, he longed for youth, but he didn't want Freddy to toy with him like this in a dream.
The others were also upset. Couldn't this monster just age quietly along with them on Elm Street? Why was he stirring up trouble again?
"Don't be angry, don't be angry! I… I recently went through some things that made me realize just how stupid my past actions were." Freddy waved his hands frantically, his voice sounding like he was about to cry.
Everyone exchanged looks. They were full of disbelief and suspicion.
Because they all knew exactly what Freddy used to be—cruel, emotionless, taking pleasure in tormenting people in their dreams before killing them in brutal ways.
"So, I reflected deeply…"
Freddy started repeating the things Edward had told him. Freddy found those words pretty interesting—even if he didn't fully understand them. But he didn't care. He was tired of the fear of disappearing. Every day he watched over the remaining Elm Street residents, desperate to keep them from forgetting him.
But now, after Edward's guidance, Freddy had an idea. He wanted to change. He wanted to stop being what he used to be and become something closer to a "god"—a proper, benevolent being.
"God? Me? Huh?"
Freddy had looked completely confused when Edward first said this. He even checked his palms—no holes. How was he supposed to be a god?
"Yes. In my eyes, you have the qualification to become a god—well, not a complete one."
Edward nodded. The ability to control dreams and prevent people from waking easily… what did that mean? It meant Freddy could grant people entirely new lives inside their dreams.
For example, a homeless man struggling every day just to eat—Freddy could let him live as a billionaire in his dreams, enjoying gourmet food, luxury homes, and even having celebrities climb into his bed for money. Would that homeless man ever want to return to reality?
Just like the red and blue pills in The Matrix—if one could live a fully realistic life inside a dream, how many would choose to wake up? How many would choose a life of exhausting 996 work schedules over a blissful dream?
When fake happiness feels truly real, who would want to wake up?
"…So, use your ability to make people's dreams come true. Let them see you as a god. That is another path for you."
Edward had said this cheerfully, and Freddy had been tempted.
In the United States, supernatural creatures were incredibly competitive—urban legends, monsters, spirits—there were too many. Freddy understood that beings like him were in fierce competition. If he wanted to stand out, he needed to change.
"…I've changed. I want to make up for everything. So please—enjoy your youth."
Freddy smiled and disappeared. Behind the scenes, he wove a dream for Jerry and the others—one that captured exactly what their hearts desired.
And when Jerry awoke to the morning sunlight, he lay in bed for a very long, silent time.
Youth in the dream. His wife. His friends. Even his parents.
All of it had been so beautiful that Jerry couldn't help but cry—because in reality, he was still alone.
"That dream from yesterday…"
The remaining elderly residents of Elm Street gathered for a meeting. They met at the home of an old man who had become too frail to get out of bed, lying there under the care of a nurse.
"It was real. We all had the same dream. We even talked to each other inside it."
Jerry nodded. He had compared memories with Tom—their recollections matched perfectly.
He looked at the bedridden man. This old fellow had once been the healthiest among them, the most athletic. But look at him now. Yet in the dream, he had been running wildly, screaming joyfully like a madman.
"…So…"
Tom hesitated.
Everyone fell silent.
Because the dream came at a price.
Freddy had told them: his power was weakened. To maintain such dreams, he needed more people to remember Freddy's story and legend. Only then could he enter more dreams, grow stronger, and continue granting these beloved dreams.
The meeting ended without a clear decision. But after three days of such dreams, Freddy's story spread online—not as a nightmare, but as the "The God of Good Dreams of Elm Street," who could reunite people with their loved ones and let them live a happy life in their dreams.
This heartwarming rumor quickly drew attention. Some tried it out out of curiosity—and they really did meet Freddy, who granted them unique, beautiful dreams. But he apologized and said that only in Elm Street could he protect so many dreamers.
And so, the failing Elm Street gradually regained life. Elderly people came. People who had lost spouses or children came. They gathered there and, in the dream world, once again became fathers, husbands, wives, daughters, sons…
"It seems you're doing quite well lately."
Edward glanced at Freddy. Compared to before, Freddy looked stronger—his bladed glove could even pierce steel with ease now.
"Thanks to you, boss! Hehe! Although I need to absorb a lot of emotions each time, the population has increased a lot!"
Freddy grinned happily. He had even cleaned himself up, taking on the appearance of a trustworthy middle-aged man.
"But your troubles aren't over yet."
Edward smiled as he ate lunch. Zoroark beside him wasn't surprised—Freddy had visited their boss many times already.
Freddy looked puzzled. Edward didn't explain much. This matter involved some organizations that should not be mentioned. But Edward was sure the authorities wouldn't ignore something like this. If monsters existed everywhere, then surely some official department must exist to regulate them. Freddy's next task would be dealing with them.
After discussing it with Freddy, Edward returned to filming The Grudge 3. He had just reached the part where Kayako's younger sister was about to appear—a classic scene.
Especially the twist where Kayako's sister becomes a grudge spirit herself—a wonderful moment, at least in Edward's eyes.
(End of Chapter)
TN: Bruh what a weird chapter.