I can go from zero to scrotum-tightening panic in forty winks
Drained by the exertions of my job, exhausted by the effects of irretrievably scrambled Circadian rhythms, and careening wildly down the precipitous drop-off of an expired Red Bull high, I decided to spend my lunch break power-napping in my car. With the engine running, and the Solaris score quietly playing on the stereo, I reclined my seat and pulled my hoodie over my eyes. I dropped almost immediately into a heavy drowse and a semi-lucid dream in which everything was precisely the same as reality, with the vital exception that my car was, instead of being parked, traveling down K-10 at eighty miles per hour and drifting quickly off the road.
If anyone happened to be looking in the direction of my car at that moment, he would have witnessed the abrupt appearance of a flailing, screaming person jolting bolt upright at the speed of terror, trying unsuccessfully but desperately to simultaneously grab the steering wheel and de-hoodie himself.
If anyone happened to be looking in the direction of my car at that moment, he would have witnessed the abrupt appearance of a flailing, screaming person jolting bolt upright at the speed of terror, trying unsuccessfully but desperately to simultaneously grab the steering wheel and de-hoodie himself.