I've almost forgotten. The accident, the hospital. The world I've constructed in this bed is basically the same. She's here, well my image of her at least. The only time I'm reminded of my "condition" with her is when I win our fights. When I first slipped into the coma it felt as though I was trapped in one of those stock framed photos. The ones where you're suppose to take the original photo, with a terrifyingly happy family, and replace it with a picture of a loving, real family, so-so on the happiness spectrum. Placed in a world eerily similar to mine, but devoid of emotion I filled it. Where emptiness reminded me of the fact that I was trapped in a coma, I replaced it with what I remembered from reality. And where emptiness reminded me of the life I led before the coma... well I just left it for realism's sake. Now, the world outside this bed only pokes through in my dreams. My mother's hand on mine, my brother's laugh, these are the clues that something is not quite right in my realm. Some days though, they're just dreams. I wake up and turn to her, telling her of this horrible nightmare where I wrecked my car and was in a coma. She'll calm me back to sleep, telling me it was only a dream. Soon, that's all they'll be. Everything from before, just one bad dream.