When I woke up, there was an object on my pillow that resembled my sleep, a fuzzy, white container of seeds. I think Adam had left it for me. I keep it with other objects recovered from sleep: clear shape of melted glass, small feather, tiny airfoil-shaped piece of metal, skull of rat.
Something in the quick deceleration of cars seems to be accumulating in me. Maybe anxiety dreams a landscape like ours.