There's a little boy with chocolate brown eyes and dirty blonde hair, he has scraped hands and a bloody nose. His mother runs to his aid and asks what happened; the little boy told her he fell while running home from school. Why he was running he wouldn't say so she took him home cleaned him up and started on supper. While cooking the mother heard a loud bang. The mother runs to her son's room and finds his window open and him no where to be found. Panicked, she runs outside and shouts for the boy. After about an hour she heard his voice and followed it up the hill towards his school, and that's when she saw it. A cross sitting on the side of the road with a candle and a picture of her son. The memories fell into place and she remembered that it was Sunday. Her son had died Friday. She fell to the ground as she remembered the sheriff telling her he was running home to tell her of his good grade and had been hit by a car while crossing the road. The mother woke up. She noticed she was in a hospital room so she grabbed her chart off the bedside table and looked for her diagnosis, in bold letters she saw the word "schizophrenia." She went into a fit of tears produced by confusion. As she cried her son walked in, a grown mad dressed in a nice suit. "The car dream again?" He asked with sadness in his eyes. "I'm fine mom. It didn't happen and everything is okay."