I keep on drawing a man over and over again.

I remember him though we never met.

That's what happens when time is messed up.

I was standing on the beach, then I was waking up in bed.

I remember the Doctor was murdered, but I also know he was never alive.

How is that possible? For someone to never exist.

But he does. I think. I don't know what to think.

Everything is confusing.

I remember

He crashed in my backyard when I was 8.

Then he disapeared. Then he came back and took me and Rory, my husband?, with him.

I traveled with this Raggedy-man. The doctor. The afficionado of fish fingers and custard. An expert at not making sense.

We went to the beach. Lake Silencio, Utah.

And the Doctor was murdered.

But the Doctor was never murdered. I was at the beach then I woke up and Rory wasn't there. The Doctor wasn't there. River wasn't there.

Was it just a dream? Am I going crazy? Was any of it real? Are my memories lies?

My memories are lies. I "made up my wonderful adventures to escape a crushing reality," my shrink said. Was he right?

I never married a man who was ereased from time and came back as a plastic Roman with a gun in his hand who killed me then guarded my body for two thousand years until my younger self could revive me.

The clocks never ticked.

Rory wasn't real so he could not have destroyed an entire fleet of Cybermen in order to intimidate them into giving up my location and save our baby daughter. It was my imagination.

No Roranicus Pondicus. No stupid face. No Last Centurion. No Rory.

But the clocks ticked once?

The Doctor wasn't real either. He never crashed on top of my shed, complain of everything I fed him, eat fish fingers and custard, dump my glass of water, investigate a crack, run like mad and dissapear. He did not come back twelve years later and whisk me off for the adventure of a lifetime.

I did not travel to the Starship UK, save a star whale, befriend Winston Churchill, defeat Daleks, have a weeping angel inhabit my eye, nearly become a fish from outerspace, see a star burning cold, attempt to arrange a peace treaty between Silurians and humans, inspire Vincent Van Gogh, ran from a sentient astroid, die, get revived 2,000 years later, and bring everyone I love back.

I swear I once heard a clock tick.

No. It was my imagination. It was never my life.

I never met the Silence, get kidnapped, fight pirates, challenge a siren, get attacked by Gangers, get tricked into giving up my baby, discover she was my best friend, run away from giant wooden dolls, wander into a faster timeline, dance the macarena, and face down a minotuar.

I never saw the Doctor die. Never heard a clock tick.

It was all in my head. I wanted it out of my head.

I wanted

To kiss my husband

Hug my Doctor

See my Daughter

But clocks don't tick.

Then River found me and the clocks started ticking. I'm not crazy.

My daughter was real.

Rory was real.

The Doctor was real.

And clocks most certaintly tick because I remember when the clocks ticked.