Craig was my best friend from high school until 15 years ago. I grew up and he didn't. We went our own ways. He didn't work, but he drank, took drugs, and abused his wife and family. He died three years ago from an abscessed tooth. Craig was very much a "Macho Man": the look, the talk.
In my dream, I was riding with Craig in his car on a snow-covered road in the mountains. The car went off the road and started sliding down the hillside. As it did, I jumped out the window and just stood there watching it fall. Craig was in the air falling backwards waving at me.
The next thing that I can remember was Craig and I sitting on a bench in a room. I said to him, "You tried to kill me. I overlooked it the first time, but I can't overlook it this time." He then started crying and crying. That was it.
—Phillip, Age 45, Orange, CA, USA