@spiraleyed said: " but it's just bad dreams . . . right? "
Staying awake was becoming increasingly difficult, and Quentin knew all too well of the dangers of pushing off sleep for too long. Eventually, the brain would shut down, inducing a coma and essentially sealing his fate. With no chance to wake up, Freddy would win. But what was he supposed to do to prevent it? Try to sleep and pray that he didn’t die? Freddy would toy with his victims for a while to get amusement out of watching their fear rise, but he was ultimately adamant on killing them. The more tired someone got, the less likely they would wake up from the nightmares.
Tired eyes looked over at Rikku, who had asked if they were just bad dreams. “Yeah...I wish,” Quentin said, a soft laugh following his words. It wasn’t actually funny at all, but he knew how absurd the situation would sound to people. Even if he was brutally honest and upfront, people wouldn’t believe him--and why should they? If the situation was reversed, Quentin knew that he likely wouldn’t believe them either.
“There’s just a dream demon that lives in my head trying to kill me for real. That doesn’t sound crazy at all, right?” There was no use contacting the cops or other authoritative figures to try to help, for they’d probably just think he was delusional and needed professional help. Besides, it’s not like they could come kill something that lived in his dreams.
