Obviously smashing a rock against your hand wasn't enough to bring you out of this delusional state and you must try harder. You swing the rock again, harder this time. Tears well up in your eyes as the rock cracks against bones and the pain makes you cry out. A drop of water falls from a leaf over head and lands on the bridge of your nose. It's cold and wet and causes an annoying itch among the pain. No one's subconscious is this good, even yours, and the pain you've endured has to have been great enough to bring you around. You've landed a very long distance from the concrete stoop you call a front porch.

Fine, let's see what this place as to offer.

It is impossible, that's means it can't occur, and I must be unconscious. I'll just wait for the EMTs, thank you.