It had been so long since I'd been there. Everything was cold and dark and quiet. I suppose it was because I'd grown up—I was no longer that needy teenage girl who had no life and nothing better to do than dream. I missed that place. I remembered when the atmosphere was alive, and I remembered how the rusted, rickety pipes would breathe searing hot steam into the air. I remembered how his laugh would echo sinisterly throughout the metallic labyrinth, and I remembered how he would bring me there.

I sighed in reminiscence and placed my hand upon the old catwalk railing. I wished with silent desperation that I'd hear the pipes burst into life again. I wished I'd hear the roaring sound of flames engulf the old boilers, and hear that familiar scraping sound that most everyone despised. I didn't hate it, though. I really missed it.

"I wish you'd come back." I whispered sullenly. At first, I thought I'd heard something—a clacking sound in the distance, and then I felt warmer as if the temperature had risen. My lips perked into a smirk, but I knew it had to be my mind playing tricks on me. It wasn't until I heard a deep, long hiss—which had startled me significantly—that I knew I wasn't alone. Quickly, I pivoted and surveyed my surroundings. I narrowed my eyes and tried to see through the inevitable darkness, and the harder I tried, the easier it became. I realized then that the decrepit, decaying place, where many referred to as hell, had reignited by a faint, yet growing presence. My heart fluttered hopefully within the confines of my ribcage, and my breath hitched in my throat as I dared to swallow. I felt an urge to call him—I felt as though something was propelling me to declare his name into the rotting, metallic kingdom, as if it would give him power—as if it would bring him back for good.

I inhaled deeply—the best I could—and I closed my eyes tight. I was afraid to speak. I didn't think I could muster up enough of my voice to call him. I suddenly felt weak and tiny; I felt like a mouse standing in the heart of this massive, overbearing place. I swallowed. My eyes were still closed.

"Freddy." I said, but I didn't shout. I spoke his name with pride. I offered every bit of air from within my lungs into speaking his name. I recited his name as if I were casting a spell, and then I felt him. I didn't open my eyes. I was, to be quite honest, terrified. Not because I feared his presence, but because I feared he wouldn't be there. I felt a warm touch of air brush by me, and I heard a low growl—but it wasn't vicious. It was pleased.

"Freddy." I said his name again. I then felt something hot against my ear. I knew then that it was him, but I still refused to open my eyes. I didn't want to open my eyes because I was afraid that I'd wake up—that I'd gotten so close to seeing him again, and the minute I'd open my eyes, I'd wake up.

"I'm here." His voice. It was his voice. I heard it clear as day. My heart skipped a beat.

"Please stay... please don't leave again." I whispered. My heart swelled and rose into my throat. It'd been so long since I'd heard his voice. I could feel him standing right behind me. I could feel his breath against the nape of my neck.

"Freddy... please... I miss you so much." I tried desperately to retain composure. I could have fallen to my knees and burst into tears, but I didn't. I refused to cave in. I needed to hold myself together. I needed to remain calm—I needed to focus.

"You brought me back..." I heard him say. His voice echoed from one ear to the other, as if he were circling me.

"I'm afraid to open my eyes." I admitted whilst biting down on my lip. I was trying so hard not to cry.

"You won't wake up. I won't let you." He spoke directly into my ear—his voice was deep and nearly guttural. I weakened in the knees.

"Promise me." I took a deep breath through my nose.

"Open your eyes." He said, and without hesitation, I did.

I looked at my clock, and it read five 'til seven; five minutes before my alarm was set to go off. I sighed heavily and felt my eyes burn with emotion. And lo, another dream fades into morning.