A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child — Adaptation Excerpts
Adapted by Bob Italia
Transcribed by Rob Nimmo
With an unopened bottle of champagne at his side, Dan sat sleepily in a lounge chair next to Greta and Mark as the raucous pool party reached its peak. People were splashing in the water. Laughter, chatter and the blare of loud rock music filled the air. “So what did your dad say about you and Alice going to Europe?” Greta asked. “Not much,” Dan replied. “He mostly screamed. Thinks I’m throwing my life away.” “Who’s throwing their life away?” Yvonne said, toweling herself off as she joined the conversation. “Dan,” Mark said. “And he’s taking Alice with him. Pretty good diving, Yvonne. You’ve been practicing.” “Two hours a day, six days a week,” Yvonne said proudly. She looked at Greta. “Aren’t you going in?” “Nah,” Greta replied. “It’s getting too cold for me. My wonderful mother will kill me if I screw up my hair. She’s got some model agency guy coming to dinner tomorrow night.” Mark grabbed the champagne bottle. “Let’s open it. It’s time to party.” Dan snatched it away. “Hands off, squirrel. That’s for me and Alice…later.” “Yo, Dan,” a classmate called out. “Telephone.” Dan nodded and set the bottle down. “I’ll be right back.” He went into an adjoining office and took the call. “Alice?” “It was him!” Alice cried. “Who?” “Freddy. I was awake when it happened. Do you understand what I’m saying? He must have dreamed himself up. Oh, Dan, I’m scared.” “All right, all right. Just relax. You stay put. I’m on my way.” “I will,” Alice said. “Just hurry, okay?” Dan returned to his friends and yanked his jacket from the back of the lounge chair. “Somebody die?” Yvonne said. “Nah,” Dan replied. “I just gotta go.” “Alice beckons,” Mark said with a knowing grin. “Hey, Romeo, you forgot your secret ingredient.” He tossed the champagne bottle to Dan.
Dan grabbed it midair and rushed away to his truck in the parking lot. Soon he was speeding along a deserted stretch of road. He was tense, and worried about Alice. He was also very tired. The voice of an abrasive talk radio D.J. filled the cab. Dan listened half-heartedly as he fought to keep his eyes open. “Right, lady,” the D.J. said, “and Elvis killed Marilyn ‘cause the Kennedy’s put fluoride in his water. What’s the matter, lady…did you go off your medication?” He hung up on her. “Is there anyone out there with a functioning brain that wants to talk to me? Line two…you’re on the air.” Dan’s eyes closed for a second. There was an eerie buzz and static from the radio, “I’m calling about my wayward ex-son Daniel,” the caller said, “who has just acted like one ungrateful jerk ever since he was seduced by this girl Alice…” Dan’s eyes flew open. He stared in shock at the radio which had transformed into a rusting antique. “Mom?” Then another voice piped in—a raspy, sinister voice. “If I were you, lady, I’d kill the ungrateful piggy!”
Suddenly the seatbelts snaked out to impossible length, wrapping around Dan’s arms. He managed to keep his right hand free, but the belts wound around the rest of his body, pinning his left arm uselessly to his chest. The truck crossed over the center divider, out of control. Dan tried to hit the brakes. But as his foot came off the accelerator, the brake pedal snaked around and slammed on top of his foot, pushing the accelerator to the floor. Dan winced in pain as he wrenched his left arm free of the belts and grabbed the wheel. Then he desperately reached with his right hand for the gear shift. It ducked away from his groping hand like a darting cobra. The truck lurched across the center divider and charged into oncoming traffic. Dan hunted wildly for the elusive gear shift. Suddenly, he heard a loud pop inside the cab. He looked over and saw Freddy sitting in the passenger seat, clutching Dan’s champagne bottle. He took a huge gulp of champagne, then spit it out. It hit the dash, sizzling like acid. “Bad year,” Freddy said. Then he grinned. “Don’t dream and drive. Better buckle up.” Just then, Dan heard an ear-splitting diesel horn. His head snapped forward as he saw the bright lights of an approaching semi truck. Dan slammed the gear shift into reverse. His truck skidded on the pavement, burning rubber. But the massive semi truck hurtled toward him like a juggernaut, its twin beams and bright chrome radiator filling the windshield. “Alice!” Dan screamed.
Alice poured a late night customer a cup of coffee. Suddenly, the restaurant sounds were distorted—replaced by Dan’s voice calling her name. “Dan!” she cried. Alice dropped the pot of coffee and charged out of the diner. Down the street, she could see a jack-knifed semi truck, back-lit by the flames and smoke of a burning pick-up truck, its jammed horn blaring. Alice screamed, then ran in panic toward the accident. As she neared the semi, the driver’s door swung violently open and a figure lurched from the cab, knocking her to the ground. It was the truck driver. His face was lit by the burning wreck of Dan’s truck, his eyes were glazed and shocked. “He came flying out of nowhere!” the truck driver screamed madly. “He was like a rocket! I didn’t even see him!” The wail of approaching sirens filled the night air. Alice’s tear-stained face was strobed in a flashing red light as she looked past the driver to see Dan’s body enmeshed in the wreckage. She rushed toward him. Suddenly, Dan’s eyes snapped open and he looked straight at her. “It was him!” he gasped. Then his body went limp. Overwhelmed with shock, Alice collapsed in the street.