Wet Leaves

I sped my car down a small hill on a tree-lined autumn road. It was raining, so the street was glistening, asphalt like still dark water, dotted with orange and yellow fallen leaves. The wiper blades thunked again and again in a steady, almost hypnotizing way. At the bottom of the decline there was a reflective black puddle of rainwater over a slow storm drain. The passenger side tires caught in its surprising depth. The car lurched sharply to the right as water sprayed up in a fan shape. I felt the pull against my steering and felt the sickening moment where control of this hurtling downhill object was not mine. I recovered before going off the road, but my palms were chill and tingly.

I remembered a dream I had a few days ago that I had completely forgotten. In the dream I was in a car wreck, the vehicle spinning out of control, the steering completely useless in a dream like way. I saw pieces of the car starting to crumple like cardboard. Instead of a violent impact I found myself rolling down a hill of clover - no car, no wreck.