I am standing in my backyard. The trees are tall, towering over me. The birds land on the ground, pecking and pulling worms from the earth. One lands on my hand. It looks like an oriole, with the grey feathers and red belly. I open my palm, with seeds inside for it. The oriole pecks at my hand, reaching for the seeds. It doesn’t hurt. More orioles come. One lands on each finger. There’s also the one in my palm. I count the birds. Seven total. One in my palm, and one on each of my six fingers. The voice from the video comes back to me, reminding me that, in dreams, most people have six fingers. I’m dreaming. So while I’m here, my body… I lay in bed and open my eyes to the ceiling of my room, and groan. Another thing the video said: whenever you’re aware you’re dreaming, whatever you think of becomes reality. So if you think about your body, lying there motionless, your mind will take you there, however much you’d rather stay dreaming and have fun. Light streams through my closed blinds, and I turn my head to the left to look at my alarm clock. The digital numbers show 9:09. I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep, so I haul myself out of bed and open my blinds. It’s a beautiful day outside, with a clear blue sky, fluffy clouds, and a shining sun. It also happens to be a weekend. I don’t have any virtual school to attend. I get dressed and go downstairs, eating a quick breakfast. After brushing my teeth, I put my hair up into a pony and pull on my shoes. Putting on my coat, I grab my phone. “I’m going out for a walk. Call my cell if you need me.” Dad looks up from doing laundry “Okay.” I rush out the door, then pause and step back inside. I almost forgot my mask. With my face mask now hanging from my wrist, I start walking. I decide to walk over to the forest at the end of Goya street. It’s a beautiful place, and I love going there. Often, I go and bring snacks. When we would reach the best part of the trail, we would stop, and spread out a picnic blanket on the sand next to the stream. I start walking down the street, and towards Goya. Right before crossing the busy street, I see people approaching. I put on my mask, waiting for a break in the cars. The people approaching stop when they get to me. Neither are wearing a mask. “Excuse me,” the taller one says, “what year is it?” That’s a strange question, I think, but I answer anyway. “The year is 2021. Why?” The shorter one nods. “So that’s why everyone is wearing a mask.” “We chose the right time period.” The taller one takes a small test tube out of his pocket. “We’re from the future. This is the cure for your current global pandemic.” I stare at them. They must be insane. Either that, or I’m still dreaming. But I’m not dreaming. I remember exactly how I got here, and the events happen in a logical order. “What do you want me to do? I’m only 13 years old.” The shorter one pulls out a phone. “We’ve created a video explaining it, and placed it on your ancient technology. Just show this to an adult, and give them the cure.” I take the phone, open the video, and press play. A woman with short cropped hair appears on the screen with an unfamiliar logo behind her. “If you are seeing this, it means that my assistants were successful in delivering the cure to the 2019 coronavirus. The current year is 3004, and time travel was recently invented, allowing for this delivery to be possible. The file containing the procedure for creating the cure is attached on this mobile device. Please make sure it gets to the Center for Disease Control. Thank you.” The video is short, and it doesn’t seem to prove anything to me. I look back up, and the two men are gone. I look down at my hands, carefully counting my fingers. Five fingers, like usual. So I’m not dreaming. At my feet, I see a sticky note. We’ve returned to 3004. Nice meeting you. I shake my head, and turn around. There’s a break in the cars, but I’m not crossing the street. I start walking back to my house, and push open the door, slipping off my shoes on the entrance mat. I pull off my coat, take off my mask, and walk into the living room, where Dad is still folding laundry. He looks up when I walk in. “Well. You weren’t gone long.” I plug in my phone as he notices the test tube and the other phone in my hand. “What are those?” “Call me crazy.” “Okay, you’re crazy. What are those?” I turn on the phone and the woman pops up again on the screen. I sit down in front of Dad and place the test tube and the phone on the table. I press play on the video, and the woman starts speaking again. After she finishes, I place the post-it note on the table and look up at Dad. “This is what the men who delivered that left for me when they disappeared.” He picks it up and shakes his head, completely forgetting the laundry. I trust him with the objects. I retreat to my room, close my blinds, and crawl back into bed. It’s not even ten o’clock yet, but I’m exhausted, and my brain is spinning. I close my eyes, and open them standing back at the busy street, with the two men once again in front of me. I don’t even have to look right now. Because when I do, I know, I’ll have six fingers.