Sam: Anyway, I gave her the day off so she could just go home and cool out, you know.
Frasier: Well, very often that's the best thing you can do when you're not getting along with a family member. Remove yourself entirely from them. Find some neutral place where you can take the time you need to be away from them.
Norm: You really think so, Fras?
Frasier: Well, that's... That's why we're all here, isn't it?

Carla: Well, the dream is always the same. There's a casket on a slab in an empty room. You walk slowly toward it. Suddenly, the lid flies open.
Norm: You see your own face?
Carla: No, you see these feet, 'cause you're looking at the wrong end. Then, you look upward, and there's your own face, pale and bluish with pennies over your eyes. And that's when you bolt up in bed screaming.
Frasier: Carla, death is an earthly scientific passage predicted by either massive physical injury or progressive bodily deterioration. There is as little validity in a supposed death dream as there is in the cliched image of death itself as a grim, bloodless ghoul whose bony finger reaches out to tap you on the shoulder when your number's up.
Lilith: Frasier, it's time to go.
Frasier: [screams] Don't do that, woman! For God's sakes, put on some blusher.

Carla: [on the phone] If you're lying to me, I'm gonna rip out your slimy, gray tongue. [hangs up]
Norm: Whoa. Sounds kind of serious.
Carla: It's my mother.
Sam: Well, what's the matter with her?
Carla: She had the dream. [gestures with hands]
Sam: What dream's that?
Carla: The death dream. [gestures] Whenever someone in my family has it, you can just start divvying up the jewelry.
Rebecca: What exactly is this death dream? [gestures]
Frasier: Yes, and, uh, why exactly do you always do this [gestures]... when you say, "the death dream?" [gestures]
Carla: You just did it.
Frasier: Carry on.