January, 1987

If you were standing in Don Dokken's hotel room, the only thing that would be keeping you entertained is the singer's sleeping fit. Blankets were scattered around, pillows were tossed on the floor. It was quite obvious that he was in the midst of a nightmare.

Don had been struggling from nightmares for the past 3 months. And gradually, they kept getting worse. But these nightmares had a certain repetitiveness to them. The repetitiveness of a badly burnt man who wore a dirty brown hat, dirty brown corduroy pants, and an ugly, and also dirty red and green striped sweater. Don had no idea why he was dreaming dreams such like this, but they seriously gave him the creeps.

In Don's nightmares, someone always gets killed, and he's always about to be killed. For a while the man in the dirty clothing killed the fans, but now, it's becoming much more personal. Like instead of just fans dying off in his dreams, it's now roadies and makeup persons. Don is afraid he'll be the next victim, or one of his band mates.

"DON! DON! DON!" Bassist Jeff Pilson shouted. Don didn't even stir.

"DON!" Jeff tried again, no luck.

"Let me try…" Drummer Mick Brown said, opening up a can of CocaCola. Jeff shook his head, he was afraid that Mick would dump the soda on Don's head…which would leave the band in even more turmoil amongst themselves.

"DONALD DUCKKKKKKKKKK!" Mick shouted in a sing-song way. No luck, again.

"No, no, no. This is how you have to wake Don up." Butted in guitarist George Lynch, who was holding a lime green water pistol.

Mick and Jeff looked at each other and simply shook their heads. They knew this wouldn't turn out well. Don and George have been at a constant personality conflict since the band started in 1983. And as the band went on and grew in popularity, Don and George's feuding only got worse. So Mick and Jeff knew that it was best to get out of the way, but they couldn't help but to watch the battle unfold.

"What the?" Don sleepily said, flicking the water from his now dripping face.

"And that, my dear friends is how you wake up Don!" George said, crossing his arms, and unwittingly dropping the water pistol.

"Why? Just why?!" Don grumbled, sitting up, and getting out of the bed in a hurry. Mick looked at Jeff, trying to get a feel on what was going to occur between Don and George, if anything.

"Because, it's almost noon, and we have to get on the bus so we can get to our next stop, dumbass." George said, very matter-of-factly. Don rolled his eyes, grabbed a pile of clothes and made his way into the bathroom.

After Don was done getting dressed and doing whatever he was doing in the bathroom, their manager, Peter Appleby, knocked on the room's door.

"We have to be getting on the road now. 10 more minutes, and I want all of you on the bus and ready, okay?" He said, his deep voice booming from the other side of the door. The members of Dokken gave a careless "yeah, yeah, yeah", but proceeded to hurry on their way.

On the bus

The members of Dokken got onto the tour bus and made themselves comfortable for a 2 hour drive to the next stop on their tour- Springwood, Ohio. Don opened up the most recent issue of Hit Parader; a heavy metal magazine that seems to put too much importance on the happenings of Metallica and Dokken. Jeff got out his stash of Batman comics to keep him entertained, George was figuring out new riffs to play on guitar, and Mick decided to simply take a nap.

It was quiet on the bus, partially due to everyone being amused by whatever it was that they were doing, but it also could be due to the increasing moments of silence that have been oh so common with this band for quite a long time. Don blames the nightmares. George blames Don. Mick says it's his marijuana that keeps him mellow and reserved. Jeff had nothing to say on the situation, but instead read up on Batman's latest adventures. Regardless, it still made for awkward silences.

Before anybody knew it, they pulled up at a nice little bed and breakfast. The sign out front was white and had "ELM STREET BED AND BREAKFAST" engraved in fancy golden letters.

"1428 Elm. That sounds oddly familiar." Don said out loud, as he stepped off the bus.

"It's nothing, Don." Peter stated, leading everyone inside the bed and breakfast.

"I hope you are right. This just isn't settling right." Don said, holding his stomach, looking as if he were going to be sick. George scoffed at Don's statement, but in all reality, George was just as nervous as Don was. He didn't have a good feeling about this either… he knew this is where that guy in his dreams calls home. But he wouldn't let Don and the rest of the band know. No way.