Holy Fucksticks, I’m Psychic

Or something.

Let me tell you a little story about my day.

It started out like any other day. Well, mostly. I took Doom to school at 7:30, but Destruction stayed home sick. I’m still getting over a very lengthy illness I just haven’t been able to kick, myself; the congestion has lingered like an uninvited party guest who won’t take the hint that they should go the fuck home already.

When I’m dealing with sinus congestion, I tend to get migraines in tandem. All that stuff is connected – nerves and whatnot. (I’m not a doctor, but it’s all science-y and shit.) And so, early this afternoon I took an Imitrex and laid down with a heated rice sock over my eyes to ease the pain until the meds worked their wicked magic on me.

I fell asleep.

It was a very nice nap. Unfortunately it was not a dreamless sleep, for I had a not-quite-nightmare.

It was dusk, and snowy. I was driving home by myself, down the country road I live on. I turned around the first bend of the long S-curve, and plowed into a solid mass of white. It was like hitting the back of a truck, head-on. The wind had blown snow from the 150-acre barren field across from my house, and it created a massive snowdrift in the road. The front of my car had been smashed inward like an accordion, and I was pinned inside the driver’s seat.

Looking slightly to the left, I could see the lights from my house just a few hundred yards away across the field; it sits past the second bend of the S-curve. I wasn’t afraid but I remember thinking I should get out of the car but I couldn’t because my legs were being crushed by the dashboard.

It was then that I woke up because my phone alarm went off. It was 2:30 and it was time to pick Doom up from school.

Into my frozen car, I went. I drove down the snow-covered road and passed the first bend of the S-curve in the direction heading away from my house. My ass-end fishtailed a little bit to the left, as it often does in that spot during the winter months. I gently corrected the slip to straighten the vehicle, but the wheels must have caught some ice because it proceeded to swing outward to the right until it spun out of control.

It felt like I had suddenly gathered a shit ton of speed mid-spin. I could do nothing to stop the car as I did a one-eighty diagonally across the road, broadsiding a tree on the passenger side. My eyes still tightly shut from bracing for impact, I must have bounced off of the tree like a pinball because I did another one-eighty off of it and into the ditch beside it, facing the same direction I had been heading in the first place.

In my 20 years of licensed driving, I have never had an accident. Not even a fender bender.

Until today.

I am fine:

See? I’m practicing my “sexy hitchhiker” look.

See? I’m practicing my “sexy hitchhiker” look.


The tree is fine:

I barely broke the poison ivy armor that this tree is wearing. Looking good, my deciduous friend!

I barely broke the poison ivy armor that this tree is wearing. Looking good, my deciduous friend!


My car is anything but fine:

Dammit so hard.

Dammit so hard.


Speaking of hard, that’s how I hit the tree. Both tires on the right side went flat, the front passenger side door is totaled, there is shattered glass all over the inside of my car from the window, and the car wouldn’t start. It still had power, the engine just wouldn’t turn over no matter what I did. Not that I could have driven it anywhere, but I thought maybe I could at least get it home because I was so close.


I was sitting 25 yards from where I crashed my car in a dream not ten minutes before.

Through the broken window, I watched the wind as it made little snow-devil tornadoes that joyfully danced a graceful and violent ballet across the field. It was 8 degrees outside and the chill burned my face but the scene was absolutely beautiful.

I suddenly realized that Doom was waiting at school so I called Whovian to ask him to pick her up because I had just wrecked my car.

His response? “Holy shit. You’re human after all.”

I don’t know what’s going to happen next. State Farm is supposed to send someone to the place where my car was towed to survey the damage and decide if it’ll cost more than the vehicle is worth to fix it; it’s an 11 year old car with 100,000 miles on it. Guess it depends on the extent of my fuckuppery.

The moral of today’s story? Don’t drive right after you have a dream about crashing your car.





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