Dreams Of Black Cars

Nathan first had the dreams when he was a boy. Classic cars, with wide chassises and bodies like oceanliners, careering down country lanes. Everything was in slow motion, and the past and future merged, so that he knew what was going to happen and then seemed to see the accident only after it had taken place. He would be running, he would take off his glasses and he would see them, breaking their bodies against a man whose back was always turned. Their bonnets would rupture, though no driver flew through the splintering glass; unmanned, he assumed dreamily that they would reform around their own spectres.