A Silent Crash

I struggle to stay awake – stay awake, stay awake – as bright-orange cones and road signs and distant music whir past my window becoming a single, brilliant, glowing smear across the otherwise dark-distant beyond. My eyelids ton-heavy, my head teetering hazardously on the edge of a nod. I struggle on.

Stay awake! Stay awake! I warn myself, feeling the needling edge of a void.

It is the rain, of course. A constant drizzle upon the windshield – stay awake, stay awake – a lulling mist of forgetfulness. Makes the mind go numb. My thoughts meld together, as in a dream. Dream. Dream, it whispers. I must not, no!  It is the rain.

With it, the rhythmic wave of windshield wipers – whish, wish, wish – how they bait the trap. And the tires, a sonorous frictious-tone on uneven highway, lending to the song their mellow throaty throbs. The heat of the defrost does nothing to awaken me, sends a fog of warmth instead that cradles my body, wanting rest, wanting solace. A pleasant dream.

Stay awake! Stay awake! I shake my head, clearing cobwebs. A violent shake that nearly gives me a headache. Stay awake!

I curse the rain, silently. I curse the wipers, too, the highway, the warmth. The even-tenored hum in my ears. I long to be there now, my destination, my home, my nice warm pillow on nice warm bed. How I long to be there now. Lying on clean sheets, warm and covered and nestled among thick covers and quilts and ethereal visions in my sleep. Asleep.

A deer! Or perhaps human?! Or some other lowly creature steps out in front. I turn the wheel severely and mash the brake, sending the car into an immediate spin, like nothing I could imagine. The car becomes in that flash-instant a carnival ride and, I, the unfortunate rider. I cannot think to brace myself – indeed, I am unsure of my body’s position – am I sitting upright anymore? Falling, spinning, crashing, rising again: up, down, neither seems right. A ton of crumbling steel and glass am I, with imitation leather upholstery and lifetime-warranty tire treads. I am afraid. Unable to persist, I close my eyes to the carnage, sure that they will never reopen.

But they do. Miraculously, my car is whole again. I am sitting upright. The cones continue their whirring, the wipers their swaying. A jolt of panic consumes me as I realize I managed to fall asleep at the wheel. Only for a moment, an instant, and for that I am glad. My course is slightly awry, and I correct it with a slide of the wheel – a little too much, making the car jerk a bit.

Everything all right, Honey? asks the wife from the passenger seat, stirring.

Just fine, Dear. Go back to sleep, now. Just fine, I say as calmly as I can, for everything is just fine. I am awake, now. Wide awake now, and almost home.

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