Crazy drunk subconcious
Chasing us through my childhood home, Matt was gaining on Reuben and me
as we let out peals of laughter.  We raced out the front door and down
the steps.  Psychically, telepathically, suddenly, we stopped where the
steps made a left.  As Matt came upon us, we grabbed him and tossed him
over the railing.  He flew down the hill of the front yard and landed
sprawled face up on the driveway.  I don't remember the sound he made,
but SPLAT could not be too far off.  Reuben and I quickly made our way
down to his covered body and the newly forming pool of blood.  There was
no screaming, only silent fear as a small crowd of indistinct people
gathered.  Uncovering Matt, we found that his head and body were nearly
separate.  We removed body from head, figuring it needed to be done and placing the former out of the way. I gave my sister a shout and instructed, "Get Mom and Dad. Or call
911. Or both!"  She disappeared inside.

Matt's severed head began begging for a glass of water.  With the wisdom
that only comes in dreams, we decided severed heads are better off
without glasses of water.  Minutes passed before it occurred to me that
my sister must not have alerted either party as I'd instructed.  I ran
into the house, found my sister in her old room chatting with her
husband.  Furious and frightened, I cursed in her direction. "FU#$!,
FU**! "What the FU**?!?"

Without waiting for a response, I ran to the phone and dialed 911.

"Help, I need help. My friend is dying."

The dispatcher calmly asked for my phone number.

Stuck in 10-digit dialing mode I gave it, "816-401-   I can't remember
the rest. Oh. GOD!" I searched the nearby area desperately.

"It's ok. I should be able to find you from that."

After a pause she said, "Are you at,"  I heard her voice give me an
address, but I was in too much of a rush to hear it.  "Can you confirm
that?" she asked.

"Yes. Please hurry." I whined.

The next thing I knew we were driving higher into the suburbs.  Reuben
was at the wheel. Kim, Matt's wife, was riding shotgun. Matt's severed
head and I were in the backseat.  The head was not bouncing around on
the seat, nor was it floating.  He just sat normally, staring ahead.  He
was probably not happy with being in the back seat, but he accepted it
without an audible complaint.  At the top of the hill we drove past a
lone white house with a lone tree in the yard.  Turning into a
parking lot, Kim, silent until now, began tearfully telling us that
this same thing had happened to her mom.  Her dad was actually her mom's
second husband as the first one had died in a freak accident.  She began
to wail as the tears spilled from all of us.  "I don't want that to
happen to me."

Recovering his composure first, Reuben made for the nearest hospital as
we all quietly sniffled.  I called my parents.

They were frantic.

"The ambulance showed up and you weren't here. They are going to charge
you thousands of dollars.  You were really irresponsible- leaving like
that with the ambulance coming." They scolded. "You're going to pay the
bill when it comes.  We aren't."  The rant against me and my lack of
sense continued, but somewhere during a story about the man in the
ambulance with a bad back I put the phone down.

 We piled out of the car and rushed into the mall.  I was in the lead and
knew exactly where I was headed. I even managed to do a little
fast-paced window shopping.  Increasing the pace, a full-bodied Matt
overtook me muttering, "I've got to tell them I wasn't murdered."

Then I woke up.