There's a certain je ne se quois to nightmares that makes me mark them as nightmares. Especially if they're about dumb things. Reckon they show where my priorities are in life.

While driving around in my car I broke off a piece of the back of the car. Even though it was a simple piece of plastic I could no longer drive my car. When I abandoned it on the side of the road I broke into a run because I was being pursued by an unseen, angry mob.

All the while I had a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach as if my parents were going to let me have it something fierce for ruining my car in such a stupid way.