[ 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 .

He had experienced a hangover or two, but this was something new. If he were to imagine what the aftermath of being hit by a bus felt like, this would be it. Then there was that droning and mumbling. When you could n't understand English as a language, you knew you were in bad shape. At least that's what he told himself as he willed his eyes to open. 
 
 As the world around him came into focus, he was overcome with the realization and following confusion that it was n't English he was hearing. From the colorful uniforms, it seemed like he'd somehow gotten plastered with a reenactment group. A reenactment group that took their play seriously. 
 
 `` No, wait. I do n't speak German.'' He tried to wave aside the woman trying to keep him from sitting up. `` Goddamnit! I do n't speak fuckin' German! Uhh... nein spreche Dutch.'' 
 
 She finally left with a huff, leaving him to ponder his surroundings. Ponder his surroundings and wonder why he had what looked to be the remnants of a bloody uniform on and bandages wrapped around his head. Damn, he must have really- oww! He cringed and froze. This was n't a hangover, that was a very painful head wound he had just fingered. 
 
 `` What the hell...'' 
 
 The woman returned a short time later, several men in those same colorful uniforms in toe and rather creative headgear. Again, they started rattling off in what he thought was German. As they spoke, he managed to get himself upright and into a seated position. 
 
 `` I salute your authenticity, but knock this shit off. I need water, and I should visit a hospital. I do n't fucking speak German!'' Flustered, he started miming drinking motions. `` Water! In a cup!'' 
 
 He finally got the water he wanted, even if it tasted like crap. He was still woozy, but that did n't matter anyways. When ever he tried to get up and go somewhere, either that annoying woman or one of the reenactors would force him back into bed. After what could have been hours or minutes, another soldier entered. This one was more colorful than the others. 
 
 `` They tell me you only speak English. Is that true?'' The soldier in red asked in what was a very heavy British accent to his ears. 
 
 `` Fuckin' finally! Someone who'll break character and speak fucking English. Goddamn, you reenactors are weird.'' He responded rather harshly to the soldier. 
 
 `` I do n't know what a reenactor is, and that is the strangest accent I've ever heard!'' The soldier in red seemed fascinated. `` Tell me, did you speak English before you were wounded?'' 
 
 `` Wounded? Speak English before- who do you think I am?'' He stammered out as what felt like a stone settled into his stomach. 
 
 `` You do n't remember? You're an Austrian infantry officer. You were wounded several days ago in Dettingen, and have been unconscious since then...''
