“You don’t remember?” asked my dad.
I shake my head. My memories seem fuzzy.
My mom said, “You were playing a game with Jenna and you weren’t looking where you were going and ran into the fence. You hit your head very hard. You have been in a coma for three days now. You don’t remember any of that?”
“It is very common to not remember things when you wake up from a coma.” The doctor says.
“Wait a minute, what about the cheetahs and the graveyard?” I shout “and the government shutting all the doors forever and ever?”
My parents exchange a glance. “That must have been a dream sweetie,” My mom says.
“You need your rest. You can talk more in the morning,” the doctor then messes with my IV and my limbs feel heavy.
The last thing I hear before I fall asleep is my mom, “She has some imagination! Think about it, cheetahs in a graveyard! Where does a nine year old come up with that?”