Nightmare

Last sleep cycle's nightmare snapped me from unreality and into the world of consciousness, long before I would have chosen to rise.

Along the coast, near a beach that kissed the edge of an endless ocean, I was a passenger in a car. The driver and I were exploring the nooks, crannies, and hidden beauties in this city on the edge of the world. A beautiful azure sky drifted above, calming the scene as the bright rays of daylight crafted halos around the white puffy clouds and the sleek, building-full skyline.

It was absolutely gorgeous.

The car raced along the vacant streets, sliding hither and fro. It careened around a corner and accelerated toward a bridge rising into the sky, over the ocean. The bridge spread itself before the car, all six of its lanes devoid of traffic.

Laughing.

Two eighteen-wheelers pinned the car, pulling alongside and swerving in to sandwich the machine. Revving, the pedal of the car pushed hard against the floorboard, the car lurched ahead, leaving the massive trucks behind.

The final exit off the bridge swirled past, disappearing with the wind. Up and up the car charged; the ocean fell farther and farther away. A blanket of clouds wrapped around the car, choking vision.

Two, three, ten tense seconds ticked away.

The car roared again as it kicked itself beyond the choking clouds. The world opened up wide and blue. The sun shimmered on the ocean, hundreds of feet below.

The sky opened its maw at the sudden end of the bridge.

No signs of street work. No warnings. Just two seconds of not being in the blinding clouds before the car leaped into the gulf. Everything was whistling and emptiness. The car's nose tipped forward, my stomach lurched into my throat.

Gravity grasped the car, tugging us toward the ocean.

Everything was screaming and terror.

The car smashed into the ocean, unstoppable force shattering the windshield. As the glass exploded, the world of dream gave way to darkness and wakefulness.