Sometimes when I drive I imagine myself crashing the car. I see the wheel turning, the guard rail or a tree looming, a cliff or a steep hill, an oncoming car. I have a jolting feeling, as if falling down stairs in a dream, and then I am on smooth pavement once again, driving between the lines, as the car passes, the hill flattens out. I am left chagrined, remorseful at my thoughts, wondering which of my loved ones I talked to last.