Richie knew there were wizards, okay. He did. Because he'd met some early on. He was friends with Bill, and Bill most definitely didn't know everything - not even half - but he had given Richie a potion of some sort in those early days when it was home, alone. Something to make the nightmares go away completely. It'd really helped for Richie's sanity, even though he'd never been brave enough to go ask him for more. Like maybe Richie was worried about becoming addicted. Or maybe he hadn't thought he deserved to have too many good nights in a row.
Richie took one more hit before handing the last of the joint over and then sort of went boneless and stupid on the couch, long legs in front of him. Weird, because he didn't feel like he ought to be that relaxed with this topic. He sniffed out a laugh.
"Fuck," he said, "I mean, who wouldn't have nightmares after what we went through?" But he knew what Beverly was asking, knew why she was asking him of all people. Because she'd seen it too. She'd been there too -- to the place that was in the Deadlights. It'd felt like time had stopped, like he'd ceased to exist and it'd showed him things. Like a brain overload. "I--" he frowned, closed his eyes. "Sometimes it's all real," he said, but wasn't sure it made sense at all.