Driving along a winding road, up the side of a hill.
It is deepening dusk, and the road curves upwards to the right.
The mountain side has some trees (pines) and short grass. It’s cold, maybe close to freezing.
The car is cold, the windscreen is still a small bit fogged.
The surface of the road changes to closely packed upturned feet, with little faces on the sole (just below the toes). They are all staring at you without speaking, as your tires loose grip on the shiny upturned flesh. Your car skids, careens across the road, and out over the edge of the abyss.
As the car starts tipping end over end, rapidly approaching the ground, all you can think of is the road made of upturned feet.