[ WP ] Your entire life has been the product of a coma dream . One morning , you finally awake from your coma , but find yourself in the 18th century . Your memories from the coma dream , and knowledge of the 21st century , are fully intact .

The flicker of a candle is apparent from my peripheral view from bed. My mind reeling from the tantamount noise from the city streets where I was moments before. I can still feel the comfort of wearing `` boyfriend jeans'' down the busy side street. The rantings of religious zealots in the square of the city ring through my mind as I wake from a seemingly eternal sleep. 
 `` Where am I?'' I think in a blur. 
 Rough sheets are pressing against me and the heavy weight of a lambs wool blanket are making me uncomfortably warm. I sit up, looking for some signs of recognition. 
 A fire place is burning with a merry flame as I lay beneath covers unbeknownst to me. I crave the comfort of a familiar face; a TV to watch in the background, the sound of street cars passing by my window atop my walk up. Instead there is silence of the most deafening kind. The honking of geese from a window that lies to my right, and the patter of what can only be human feet traipsing up a creaky hardwood floor. 
 The footsteps grow closer. My heart begins to pound. 
 `` Who can it be?'' I ponder. 
 `` Was I in an accident of sorts and someone has kindly taken me in?'' 
 
 The door opens. A squeal of shock and delight. An older woman embraces me repeating, 
 `` I have prayed everlasting for such a moment.'' 
 
 I know now something is wrong. Deeply. 
 
 The woman holding me pulls me closer, her bonnet pressing against my cheek. Hysterically she whispers, 
 `` It has been 15 years. I never thought to know my own daughter.'' 
 Panic grips me. I know not what is real.
