I was driving my car late at night with Laura. Suddenly I saw an airplane, and noticed that it was dropping a bomb nearby. I began to drive very quickly, frantically telling Laura, who hadn't seen it. I was wondering what it would feel like, would we die instantly, would we be crushed, would our car roll over many times, etc. And while I was imagining all these terrible ways of dying, my instincts were pressing me to drive as far from the place I saw the bomb fall as possible.  Still, at the same time, a part of me was saying: well, this is it. We're going to die. It's finally come down to it. No escape. It just doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all.