My creepypasta experiences

The peach-colored walls of the dream-space seemed to stretch infinitely, a sterile, unsettling void. I was running, breath catching in my throat, chasing a familiar figure – Spledorman. His voice, his clothes, everything was exactly as I remembered him from the internet. He ducked into a room, and I followed, my heart pounding.

Inside, he was hiding in a sliding cabinet, holding out his hand. I took it, my gaze falling to his fingernails, which were a stark, unnatural black. 'Why are your fingernails black?' I managed to ask, the question feeling oddly mundane in such a bizarre situation. That's when he emerged, but it wasn't Spledorman anymore. It was Freddy Krueger, albeit without his signature knife-fingers, his eyes fixed on me with a chilling intent. My stomach dropped. He was trying to kill me.

Panic seized me, and I bolted, desperate to escape. I lunged towards a door, or maybe it was an elevator, I couldn't tell. Just as I reached it, Masky appeared, a few steps away, a gun pointed directly at me. He didn't shoot. I somehow managed to slip through the opening, finding myself back in my own room – or a version of it, stripped bare of most of my belongings. A moment later, Masky was there, standing in my hallway. 'I killed Freddy Krueger,' he said, his voice flat. 'Do you want to talk about what happened?' My mind raced, still reeling. 'I want to talk to Mr. Slendyman about it,' I heard myself say.