John’d always been…gifted, or, better put, cursed.

When his sister took ill, she never would have recovered if it weren’t for him.
He’d had dreams that his dog was going to die, so he took him to the vet. Turns out that if he’d waited another day, the condition would’ve been irreversible..
Even the plants in his mother’s garden…he knew the previous winter that a drought was to come, and the petunias wouldn’t have mad it if he hadn’t personally watered them twice a day.

So, it was only moderately disturbing when he began dreaming of his own death. The disturbing part wasn’t the graphic images of his own mangled and bleeding body, ...but the malicious sneer of the driver: his own girlfriend.

John knew that his fate was not set in stone, but if he did not act, he would certainly die. However, he didn’t try at all to change things. “Live for love,” he’d always been told. He’d done precisely that, and now, he had intended to die for it.

“I always said I wanted to die loving her…”