I was a former industrial music rock star that was living in a small motel in the desert. There was a prequel of another dream, but it has already faded from memory. But I remember I was on the run and hiding out, possibly after some great caper. I was continually looking out the windows for signs of trouble.

Like most on-the-run-caper movies, there was an old TV in the corner on a wheel cart, playing old cop films. While I looked out the windows I saw:

1. Hot Asian girl running through the court yard in a robe.

2. Her mother (not sure how I knew that" chasing her, also in robe, but her glowed like a hologram and the scenes shifted. It reminded me of this.

3. Lots of dust.

4. A man carrying boxes of robot models.

Clearly, my bandmates/caper pals and I needed a cover, so we chose to be firemen.

Hoping to meet Asian girl, I ventured outside. Robot guy was in the next unit. His door was open and I saw several un-assembled, unpainted resin Boba Fett statuettes. Although my neighbor was missing, I knew he was actually a former Hollywood studio executive, who was also on the run.

I desperately wanted to find him, after all i had this idea now for an awesome movie to pitch, (former band pulls caper, and hides out as firemen in desert hotel). I started going unit to unit looking for him. The Asian family was very secretive, and I assumed they were making Cuban cigars.

As I went unit it to unit, I was finding all my bandmates, dead in the firemen outfits. I start to feel a sickness in me. I started to vomit a lot. Then, there was an alarm. There was a fire. It was easy to find the ambulance I was supposed to drive. There was no firetruck, but I assumed that was because my bandmates were dead, and they were intended to man it. My ambulance partner was Scott Glenn, playing his traitorous firefighter character from Backdraft. At once, I realized he was the killer, no doubt trying to keep the spoils from our caper for himself. I started vomiting more, but then got behind the wheel of the ambulance. I vomited as i drove, and it looked like raw eggs. Scott Glenn told me that, "Trent Reznor had 8 different types of psychoses, and 32 different personalities, one of which liked classical music.

Traffic was ass, so he directed me into a warehouse as a short cut. We came to a locked roll-up door an we had to get out to snip the locks. Clearly, this was where I would be killed. He set to work on the locks, and I looked for some wood to make a ramp to get the ambulance up to the door since it was set a foot higher than the ground. I was still vomiting when I got a splinter. Scott Glenn said something about LA traffic, and then I woke up.