Nightmare #3. Late to work. Waiting by the mailbox. The mailbox says "You better watch your ankles, pops." It's breath smells like a dentist's office by the sea. Half a day goes by. My car pool ride arrives completely engulfed in flames. It's a Gremlin. Dave Mustaine gets out of the car. He walks up to me and embraces me. Now I'm on fire, too. It's hot. I pass out from the heat. Someone shoots an arrow into my chest. Fuck.