I’m on an open, paved road in bright daylight. As I cross the road, I notice in the very middle lays some sort of organic object—perhaps a slug. I am curious, but expect the slug is more of a smear, a greasy splotch in the midst of the traffic. As I get closer, I do ponder whether I might remove this mass, toss it on the side of the road. Nearing it, however, I can see that the object is a very small human baby—about the size of my thumb. It is not naked but inside a blanket-husk or sheath. Still, I expect this bizarre mini-infant is smashed. I look at the skull, expecting it is flattened—a most horrific road-kill. But I find myself picking up the child, and as I hold it closer, unclear about its status, the child very distinctly speaks, “Mama.” It continues to speak Mama as I hold it close to my chest and feel the vibrations of its tiny but emphatic voice.