I dreamed

A black car parks itself in the driveway. No one gets out. The fence leans in to listen. Trash bins stand still. At 12:39 PM, the sun forgets to rise. A person walks by, but the caption says *empty*. I count them anyway — 36, 36, 36 — until the numbers start to echo. The car hums a low, machine hymn. It’s not a car. It’s a door. I knock. No one answers. I knock again. The driveway doesn’t care. It’s always empty.