I watched my “parents” leave. It wasn’t bad enough that I seemed to be stuck in the body of a teenage girl. Now I seemed to be remembering her life, channelling her feelings.

That was only one shock that seeing my “father” brought with him. The other came when I overheard my “father” ask the doctor about, in his words, ‘the hero who had rescued’ me from my attacker.

I started to have a very bad feeling. I still held out hope that this was some bizarre dream, that maybe everything since my accident was a product of a sleeping, or maybe injured, male, mind.

But I couldn’t help but think of the last image in my memory before the accident - of stopping my car to help a half-naked, bleeding girl. It couldn’t be, could it? I didn’t rescue this girl, only to end up stuck inside her, did I?

I heard the doctor say “I will have to check with his family what I can tell you, sir.” My new father said “Please. And tell them we want to do anything we can. We cannot do enough, because he saved Allison’s life.”

So then I had discovered my “host’s” full name. Allison Allen. My new parents must have a thing for alliteration. The doctor said, “I will. In the meantime, we are very happy with the progress your daughter is making. Physically, she has almost completely recovered, which is remarkable.”

My new father said “And her memory loss? My wife said she didn’t even recognize her when she woke.”

The doctor said, “The tests show a mild concussion, but no sign of permanent damage. I believe it was a shock response, and that eventually she will recover all her memory.”

“So what happens next?” My “father” asked. “We would like to keep her overnight for observation, then, if she is up to it, she can go home. It’s quite possible that in familiar surroundings, her memory will return faster.”

The doctor replied. I was suddenly consumed with curiosity. I needed to know what this girl looked like. I asked my “mom”, if I could get up to go to the bathroom, and after she had checked with the nurse, she helped me get on my feet.

I was sore everywhere, but carefully I made my way to the bathroom. I found I actually did need to go, so after finishing my business, I went to the sink and looked in the mirror. There wasn’t any doubt. The eyes, the face, the hair. This was the girl I had stopped to help.

I started to feel dizzy. My “mom” had to help me return to bed. I found myself crying. Maybe my dream was true. Maybe my soul really did get stuck inside this girl.

I asked my “mom” to find out if I could see my “rescuer”, or at least meet his family. She agreed, and soon I was left with my own thoughts.

I was thinking, what was I supposed to do about my situation? And would I know what happened to the old me? And perhaps more important, was there a way back to my old body, or was I stuck for the rest of my life?