I decide that I don't want to be part of the herd and that I will simply fly out. I try to fly the way I usually do in my dreams, by flapping my arms, but I can't get off the ground. The herd police come to me and tell me that I can't fly. It's not allowed. I'm in trouble. I must come with them.

I disagree. I grab their guns and kill the two herd cops. Then I begin going postal on the herd, killing many.

I am now shooting small wax figure Madonnas dressed in black and resting in niches. When a bullet hits one, they explode. This is great. Then I come to my senses and tell myself, "Stop. You can't shoot Madonnas."