Keepin' It Real with Krueger

or, No More Nightmares on Main Street

I was 12 years old when the first Nightmare on Elm Street movie came out. In 7th grade; my first year at John Adams Junior High School. My friend J and I quickly became obsessed with all things Freddy Krueger. A monster designed to evoke fear but, for us, he held the intrigue of the forbidden fruit. The movie did, too. It was violent, full of gratuitous (and, on reflection, extraordinarily stupid) sexualized imagery of young women in their nighties, and even had a few f-bombs scattered throughout.

We couldn’t get enough!

Freddy has remained one of the more stable men in my life. He can always be counted on to show up, whether you need/want him to or not. He’s predictable. You know what you’re gonna get with Freddy. There’s no pretense. No pretending. We all know what he’s here for. It’s cool. Do your thing, Freddy. He can’t be blamed if you think about it. As I like to say, he comes by it honestly.

I mean, yes, he did murder a child. But he was then burned to death by an angry mob of revenge-seeking parents. So, I don’t know, call it even? And without this series of tragedies, we wouldn’t have this riveting series of horror movies rife with troublesome stereotypes, around which J and I could focus our fears and fantasies and t(w)een rebellion (rated R movies at 12 FTW!).

In college, Freddy became more friend than foe or feared hero. I’d sought out counseling to help process an earlier sexual assault and found myself haunted by recurring nightmares of the assault, often ending in my murder by stabbing. It wasn’t just terrifying; it was debilitating. I couldn’t do homework. I was afraid to go to sleep. I was spacing out in class.

One day, perseverating on all that stabbing I suffered each night, I remembered Freddy. What would it look like if HE entered the scene, complete with dirty sweater, scarred face, and that kick-ass right hand of his? Imagine the damage he could inflict! Oh, HELL TO THE YES.

I started picturing Freddy by my side every night before I fell asleep. Instead of willing him NOT to visit me in my sleep, like the characters in his movies, I invited Freddy in. He’d know I was on his side. I’d been his fan forever. Surely if he joined me in my dreams, he’d be able to separate the good guys from the bad. He’d know what to do.

And that he did.

My first year of college continued on in a haze of sleep/wake with Freddy in the wings, ready to jump in and take on my attackers as needed. He had a busy year. I’ll be forever grateful for his service.

I haven’t needed Freddy in a long time but he returned not long ago. THE BAD PEOPLE were back. In a different form this time but bad just the same. This time in the form of liars, gaslighters, betrayers, deceivers, disappointers, and in some cases just plain old letdowns. Dingleberries. Foolish, inept, useless.

Whatever they were, they were a gang of losers and each new lie they told about me or about our experiences together was another knife to the kidneys. Another stab in my heart. Another tear in my soul. Use whatever metaphor you want but these assholes were killing me and I was OVER IT.

The assholes were also creeping into my dreams. Back to the chasing, the deep betrayals, the you’re-not-who-I-thought-you-were’s, and even the stabbings. These assholes were fucking trying to kill me in my own goddamn dreams!

Enter Freddy. A call with a friend after a particularly rough encounter with said assholes reminded me that I don’t have to give my precious and extraordinarily limited energy (HELLO! LONG COVID! Anyone? ANYONE?) to dingleberries.

FREDDY, TAKE THE WHEEL!

And so he did. Freddy’s back in my life and fighting like hell. Slashing and burning and taking dingleberries down like nobody’s business. And you know what’s extra great about that? I can keep my eyes on the prize: kindness.

Remember this? I do. It’s still important to me. It remains my mission.

I don’t want to get sucked into the dingleberry vortex of anger, lies, betrayal, and gaslighting. Freddy, I’m sorry to say, already lives there. It’s his home. He’s comfortable there. He is taking one for the team. Staying put in hell, willingly being dispatched to give hell when and where I need him to so that MY energy can be put to better use.

I can’t thank you enough, Freddy. You’ve got my back. Just please don’t slash it, mmmkay?