I’m speeding. My surroundings fly past me. My foot is locked on the gas pedal involuntarily. I look through the glass windows, but I cannot see what is ahead of me; everything is blurry, unclear, smudged. I begin to look for my glasses, but I then realize don’t even own a pair. I reach for the break pedal and my leg doesn’t move. I panic.

There is a passenger. The voice is yelling, too. I don’t dare to look away beyond the steamy glass; I am so frightened that my eyes are fixated on what’s ahead of me. The voice’s identity is left anonymous. I concentrate on focusing my eyes, but I still cannot through the foggy windshield.

The windows clear up. There is a crowd of people up ahead. My legs are numb. I am still utterly terrified, but now struck with a silent fright. No longer can I scream. I am speechless. For the first time, life seems so precious when death is near. The vehicle continues to approach the people. When I am seconds away from stealing the innocence of dozens, everything turns black. I wake up.