{Note: when I told Beau about this dream, he summed up his feelings with the following sentiment: It's just a dream; it doesn't mean anything. Well, duh. So here it is, even though it doesn't mean anything.}
Beau and I went to a psychic, who told him that he and two other guys would die on motorcycles within a week. We were crushed. Beau started getting his ducks in a row and making arrangements.
Then I had an idea: How about just staying off the motorcycle for a week to see what happens?
What's this? Free will?
By golly, it worked! But, unfortunately, the two other dudes died.
So we had a horseshoe party/funeral for them in someone's backyard (of course!). People milled around, drank beer, and mourned. There were two big holes at the back of the yard with two (occupied) open coffins (they were old-timey, wild-west coffins that you had to nail together).
I went inside for a moment and looked out the window just in time to see a huge passenger jet crash down the street. I tried to get outside in time to warn everybody, but I was too late; a huge debris cloud enveloped everything in the backyard.
After the dust settled, I looked to the graves just in time to see one of the dead motorcycle dudes crawl out of the coffin and stroll away.
Those damn zombies always have to make an appearance somewhere. :)
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