There was suddenly an old blue sports car turning into me. This has happened before, but in the past, the driver has stopped, or I've had the time to jump out of the way. Neither happened this time, so I shouted in slow motion "ooohh ssshhiiittt!" as I turned my back on the car and tumbled up onto the hood. My body instructed me to continue getting out of the way of the car, so with my legs flying in the air I continued to try to roll off of the hood. Eventually I found the pavement, with my body saying "Keep moving! Get away from the wheels!" The glistening, frosty bumps of the pavement looked so very soft and inviting. I was glad to see them, and I rolled on them.
I found myself standing, looking at a stopped blue sports car, its windshield so frosted that I could not see inside. There was someone getting out making a loud groaning noise, "OOOOHHHHHH!!" Was I going to get into a fight now? He was a slightly dishevelled middle-aged man, and my first impression was that he was drunk. But maybe he was just slurring and shaking with fear and adrenalin. As he paced back and forth shaking his head and making heavy remorseful sounds, I considered the condition of my own body. I breathed in and felt unhurt. I've heard stories of people getting seriously injured and their mind just blocking out the fact, so I considered that this might have been the case. But all in all, it seemed like the guy in front of me was more injured than myself.
I tried to assure him that I was ok. And then I started to feel light headed and funny, and everything started seeming a bit like a dream. I laughed a bit and didn't know what to say, so I said stupidly to him, "Hey man, thanks for your concern." He responded loudly, "Damn right I'm concerned! You shouldn't be thanking me, it's my god damned duty to be concerned god damnit! ooohhh! It's just- it's just a good thing I wasn't drinking tonight! oooh!" He stamped up and down the road looking this way and that, looking at me and rubbing a drunken hand through his drunken hair.
I told him that I was going to go now, and after a bit more "you sure you're ok?", "yes" stuff, he stumbled and with a shaking hand pulled out his wallet saying, "you you know what?" He breathed heavily and his fast twitching fingers pulled out a bill and shoved it into my hands. I tend to feel a bit uncomfortable getting paid for things that I've had no intention of getting paid for, but I've learned that people really want to pay me sometimes and they don't like it when I tell them to stop. So I just took it and refused to look at the bill. I did not want to know how much I was getting paid to get hit by a car. But a part of me hoped that this guy was shaken up enough to hand me something big. "Get yourself something to drink tonight!" he said.
So I walked to Sam's house laughing all the way. Super euphoria time as the emergency-chemicals in my blood danced with my lower astral-body. Had that been my death, my last words would have been "oh shit," but I would have died doing an activity that just a moment before I had noticed was one of the activities that gives me the most joy in life: walking and singing.
Later I discovered that he'd given me a $10 bill, and then I drank a bottle of wine with one of my best friends.