The Dream

Someone, somewhere, had control over my dream. I hadn't done anything out of the ordinary, no cheese before bed.
It began with me. Just me, nothing else. Not even oxygen. Writhing in pain, clutching at my throat as I died. I knew I didn't have much time left, I was dying. Suddenly, the scene changed, and I was back in my grandmother's cottage in the country. The sun was shining in the cloudless sky. A faint breeze was wafting through the branches of the old oak tree. My mother was sitting on the grass, sunbathing. My sister and I were climbing the oak tree, and we were nearing the canopy.
My sister screamed, as she saw at my feet a snake. In shock, I leapt from the branch, before realising what I had done. My mother shot up from the grass and rushed over, but it was to late. My rag-doll of a body was on the floor, my legs were broken, and my neck was snapped. I was dead.