I'm driving down the freeway one snowy Sunday morning, headed to church. There is close to one inch of new snow. It's almost like the three inches were rejuvinated the night before; no footsteps or other imperfections to speak of. Thankfully, the roads are pretty clear. Surprisingly for the weather conditions, traffic is moving very steadily, I'm able to maintain a speed of 60. Not bad, considering the speed limit is 75. There is someone in my passenger seat, and my daughter kept snug in her car seat. As we travel along the highway, slightly discernable music playing softly on the radio, I notice there are quite a few tractor-trailers around me. I'm the slightly paranoid type, I don't like to be 'boxed in' by larger vehicles; I start to feel claustrophobic. Taking a deep breath and relieving my fears, I glance down at the gauges. "LOW WASHER FLUID" slowly starts to glow.
"That took a long time to show; wonder if there's something wrong with the cluster." I think to myself. Back to the highway.
Our exit is coming up soon. It's a left-lane exit, one that creates a new interstate from the one we're currently traveling. It is a two-lane exit, and we travel in the right-hand lane as the street we need to exit on is shortly after the new interstate starts. Suddenly, there is a loud dead THUMP. Time slows to a minimum. I check my rear view mirror, and all I can see is a wall. Someone has clipped my rear end. The rear of the car is sliding to the left at a very rapid pace. I spin the wheel to the left, attempting to correct the slide before we start spinning out of control. We're sliding through the other lanes, cars swerving and braking to try and evade. As the rear comes around, I realize that in my panic I had overcorrected. The rear is now slipping the other direction. I feel like we are moving horizontally on a vertical plane. As I'm looking to my right, trying to realign the vehicle with the shoulder, someone screams.
"Honey! LOOK OUT!"
I swing my head left to see what is happening. "Ford" is what I saw; the large blue oval directed at my forehead. The large truck, unable to stop or evade because of its mass, T-bones the car. Now too far gone for me to correct, and my arms feeling as if they had been disconnected, I can do no more. The rear brakes are locked up; I think I slammed on the e-brake pedal in an attempt to find the brakes. I slam the brake pedal to the floor, but it seems to have no effect. We drift, sideways, off the interstate, through the shoulder, and on to an open, snowy area. Finally, we are stopped.
Regaining my composure, I survey the surroundings. The 'someone' beside me, although I do not recognize her, must be my wife or significant other. She is quite shaken, but seems physically okay. A couple bumps and bruises, but that's it. I take my seatbelt off and try my hardest to get to my daughter. When my neck and back finally allow, I turn. Shes okay. Thank God, she's okay.
"Do you hurt, sweetheart?" I ask.
"Daddy, my leg hurts!"
She has a bruise on her right leg, just above her knee. Otherwise, she says she's okay. Thank God. I think I'm okay. I don't feel any pain, except my arms are sore as hell. Otherwise, I'm sure I'm fine.
Then I wake up. This is a recurring dream for me. I have woken from this nightmare for 5 nights straight now. I sure am glad this isn't real, but still. The vivid representations, the fact that it feels real, scares me.