A Dreamy Reunion

It was 9:36 PM when I heard a knock at the door. I was lounging in bed in my comfy clothes, lights off, TV on, just goofing off on my phone to wind down for the night. It's not like I was busy, but I wasn't expecting anyone either. The TV had already been on low volume, but I muted it anyway. Then I waited a moment in the silence. Instinctively, I held my breath as if doing so would make the house seem more empty. Eight seconds passed without another sound. I let go of the breath I'd been holding.

Another round of knocks. On my phone, I navigated to the app linked to my doorbell cam. The feed was live but I couldn't see anything. Usually the night-vision was powerful enough to see the street, but it was just black. I tapped the screen a few times to refresh it. No change. Sighing, I tiptoed to the front door and looked through the peephole. I saw a familiar face.

Wendy Carver stood awkwardly on my welcome mat. Her face was a stone, and she seemed to be looking at nothing. A glance at the doorbell cam showed it was unobstructed. Had she been covering it with her hand or something? I came to the door fully prepared to either ignore the interruption or, if it was my ex, call the cops. But I could open the door for Wendy. We used to be close. I silently urged myself to wake up and remember how to talk to other humans.

"Hey," I said as I swung open the door. "Oh my gosh, Wendy, it's been ages!" I paused, expecting an explanation for the visit, or at least a "hello," but the only reply was a small, relieved smile, softening her expression.

I continued, "It's kind of late. Is everything okay?"

"Yes!" she said emphatically. "I'm okay. I'm good. I just..." Wendy looked her hand as if she'd forgotten what she was holding. It was a DVD case. "I thought maybe we could watch a movie."

It was definitely weird, but it seemed like a harmless enough request. I had no idea what Wendy was up to these days, but maybe she needed a safe space, or someone to talk to. So, I said, "yeah!" in a way that I hoped sounded earnest, and waved her inside.

I showed Wendy to the living room and asked her to get the movie set up. Then I headed to the kitchen. My brain hadn't returned to full functionality yet. In a sleepy stupor, I tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave and started a kettle for tea. It wasn't until I put the full bowl and the mugs on the coffee table that I realized those things don't really go together. I stifled a laugh and turned to speak to Wendy, but this time she spoke first.

"You read my mind." She picked up a mug and took a small sip, barely reacting to the heat.

"What are we watching?" I asked.

"A Nightmare on Elm Street." I must have looked puzzled. She clarified, "You said you hadn't seen it, and I said we needed to fix that."

"That was so long ago, I don't remember. I'll have to take your word for it."

We made ourselves cozy on opposite ends of the couch and started the film. My mind was kicking back into gear, and my attention was split between the screen and the woman staring at it. We hadn't spoken in years, but she looked the same. Wendy's long, dark hair framed her thin face like a portrait on the wall of a haunted mansion. She was pretty, like I remembered her. Wendy always looked like she had secrets hiding somewhere behind her eyes. The unexpected nature of this visit gave me a feeling that I might learn one of them before long.

The movie was good, too. In our school days, Wendy and I had watched several "slasher" films of the 70's and 80's. They were enjoyable, but they were more her thing than mine. I didn't always "get" them. I couldn't find what gave them the staying power to be released and re-released in the modern day. This one, though, seemed to me like it had more to say. Or maybe I'd just gotten old enough to notice.

We watched most of the movie in a silence that was only broken by the crunching of popcorn and the slurping of hot tea. Wendy finally spoke as Johnny Depp transformed into a geyser of blood.

"It's not very realistic, is it."

"I dunno. Some of it is pretty good. That first death was pretty convincing."

"Hmm. I meant more like, how the dreams are so concrete and then they just come true. As a premise, it makes sense, but thinking too hard about it brings me back to reality, you know what I mean?"

I smirked at her. "It's not like those kids wanted to dream up their own deaths."

She shrugged. "Some people do. Someone has to." She paused. "But you're right, I'm sure they had nicer things to dream about before Freddy Kruger."

"Too bad the good dreams weren't the ones that came true." I had begun to pick up on her wistful tone.

The movie continued into its climax. Wendy didn't speak again. As Nancy and her mother stepped into the ominous fog on their doorstep, I turned to face Wendy.

"Wendy, what brought you here tonight?"

She kept her gaze fixed on the screen. I couldn't read her. Was she ignoring me, or was she just far away?

I tried again. "You can tell me. I'm here. I'll listen."

The movie erupted with sound. I turned back to the TV to see Nancy's mother was snatched away by the hand of Freddy Kruger. When I turned my head back, Wendy wasn't there.

"Wendy?" I jumped up and looked for her, but she was just gone. I opened my doorbell camera app again. The quiet street outside my house was deserted.

But she had definitely been in the room with me, talking with me and watching A Nightmare on Elm Street. The popcorn had been eaten, the tea had been drunk, and the credits were still rolling on the TV. I cleaned up and went to bed with a head full of questions.

In the morning, I popped the DVD back into its box and made a few phone calls. Another former classmate was able to give me Wendy's current address on the other side of town. It was time to make an unannounced visit of my own.

DVD in hand, I rang the doorbell and waited. Several minutes later, the door opened. There stood Wendy, looking at least ten years older than she did the night before. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she had cooing baby in one arm. She stared at me a moment before recognition hit her.

"Jess?" she seemed frazzled.

"I hope I'm not interrupting --"

"No! No, it's good to see you. What can I do for you?"

"Sorry to drop by out of the blue. I just wanted to return something of yours." I handed the DVD to her.

Wendy laughed as she took it from me. "Oh my gosh. I must have lent that to you, what nine years ago? Ten?"

Before either of us could speak again, a wailing toddler charged into Wendy's backside. She sighed. "I'm so sorry. We should definitely catch up sometime, I--"

"Actually, I'm free now, if you're up for it. Maybe I could make some tea, help with a little housework, or distract a kid or two?"

Wendy smiled warmly. "That sounds wonderful, Jess. Please, come in."