Very rarely, perhaps once every fifty trials, Quentin is blessed with the feeling of absence. The absence of Freddy from the corner of his mind, and in his dreams. He always notices it immediately, and never questions why it happens-perhaps Freddy gets bored watching him, and moves on to(more) another unfortunate victim for just one day.
Those are the days he spends sleeping, catching up until he sees the familiar striped sweater. Quentin's a master lucid dreamer-the second he goes under he comes up, barely asleep, and he goes home.
It's empty-he doesn't dare try to dream up his parents, or Nancy. It wouldn't be them, after all.
Sometimes he does, however, imagine the survivors and killers.
The first time he'd been able to sleep and dreamed, he imagined killing the Trapper, then the Wraith.
But for the first time in a long time, when Quentin turns a corner in his own dream, free of Freddy, he doesn't recognize the neighborhood.
Not at first, at least-the sun is out, and there are faceless humans on the porches and on the sidewalk. But all Quentin has to do to recognize the place is look up-and freeze.
Michael Myers is standing in the center of it all, turning his head from house to house. One of the lots is empty.
Quentin...dreamt this up, right? He's not in someone else's dream, because that's not possible-
But when Michael turns, Quentin can see his shock because the knife he's holding falls to the road.
Quentin doesn't know why, but he feels safe here. Michael can't kill him before he can wake himself up. He takes a few steps towards the other man until he's face-to-chest with him. Wow, he's tall.
Then, with as much force as he can, Quentin slaps him.