in the ground. Engraved on the headstone was,” Alex Johnson, Dec. 2003- Oct.
2015!” The ghostly figure said in a deep monotone voice, “Looks like you’re going to be with your friends once again!” The figure tried to push me into the casket, but I resisted. I swung a punch at the figure, but I felt nothing. The figure had
dissolved into thin air! Suddenly, it felt like the ground was shaking beneath me.
Everything became blurry, and I could hear faint voices. I couldn’t understand
what the voices were saying. I felt a tug on my arm. My vision began to clear, and
I could make out an outline of my friends faces. I could hear, “Alex, are you
okay?” Softly I said, “My head hurts a little, I think I’m okay.” My friends told
me that when we started the race I was in the lead, but tripped on a shovel left on
the ground, and hit my head on a headstone. I was knocked unconscious. My
friends told me I kept mumbling and swinging my fists into the air. I sighed in relief that it was just a dream. Or was it a dream at all?
11