the mother's head strapped face-to-face, inescapable
to find his mother’s head, Mrs. Avril M. T. Incandenza’s, the Moms’s disconnected head attached face-to-face to his own fine head
Context
Orin's recurring nightmare literalizes the family's communicative condition as horror: the Moms's severed head lashed face-to-face onto his own with racquet-gut, so that whichever way he turns he is "staring at, into, and somehow through" her face, unable to disengage. It is the smothering-proximity of her love (the same face-flat-against-yours impression he does of her when awake) turned into a helmet he can't pull off — closeness so total it abolishes any outward view, contact as suffocation with no channel left open to anyone else.