Documentarys+Active Imaginations=Certain Death

When I was little I had a very active imagination. So I never watched scary movies because I could always imaging, very clearly, monsters coming to get me. Keeping that in mind, I decided it would be a good idea to watch a documentary about heart problems. I watched it for a while, happily enjoying the horrifying things that were being said about heart attacks and cardiac arrest. My mom then sent me to bed. Being little, the documentary didn't trouble me, and I feel asleep right away, unaware of what was going to happen just hours from then.

Maybe around midnight, I woke up. For a second, I wasn't aware that anything was wrong. Then, I felt a pain in my chest. It hurt. A lot. Because i had just woken up, I hadn't yet remembered the documentary. I lay in bed for a minute, unsure of what to do. And then it hit me. The documentary. I might be having a fucking heart attack, my little, confused mind thought. I'm going to die.

 I lay in bed, running through all the possibilities of my demise. I was so sure that I was going to die. Eventually, I got bored enough thinking about my tragically met end that I fell asleep. When I woke up the pain was gone. I ran downstairs and asked my mom about it, wondering if I would need surgery. She looked at me, and said it was growing pains. Perfectly normal, and nothing to worry about.