This one started with lots of tornadoes. Along with a busload of people, including workmates and my wife, I watched in horror as about 25 people were sucked into a funnel cloud and hurled down the freeway to oblivion. We all evacuated into this place my boss knew about: a planetarium / iMax type structure inside the Galleria -- a huge mall in Houston. After the storms passed, I was in some kind of weird building that seemed to combine a museum and terrarium -- it had high glass ceilings and it misted often, which was a shame because there were lots of old paper goods for sale in there that got ruined every time the mist came down. Tom was in there looking for music to buy and he was super-excited to find a cassette by some guy named something Graham. In the dream, I knew his first name too and I Googled him, and it turns out he was an old-timey baseball player turned honky-tonk singer from Columbia, South Carolina. Still in the dream, I watched a YouTube of him and it was terrifyingly awesome: the guy sang like George Jones and looked like a demented, curly-mustachioed, toothless version of Colonel Sanders. I wish I could remember the song, but all I know is it sounded something like "After the Fire is Gone," and the video had the feel of low-budget televangelism. And Tom mentioned that this Graham guy wound up committing suicide. Anyway, there was a change of scene and I was in a muddy front yard in front of a creepy old house trying to interest Tom and Jason from Huntsville, Alabama in a game of croquet. Jason politely turned me down, and Tom said something like "What? You think I know how to play that game? I had a real childhood."