crashed at our apartment last night, sleeping on the pull-out couch bed in the living room. When I woke up and walked out there this morning, he was dead. Looked peaceful but definitely dead of some natural cause or other. My wife and I were having an earnest but calm conversation about how to undetectably dispose of the body when I woke up from the dream. I have no idea why Richardson was crashing at our place nor why we felt his perishing there was something we had to conceal from the authorities, but it seemed not only dream-logical but not even particularly distressing at the time.