A boy has just slipped into the realm of his dream. He thinks he is dreaming.

His
eyes are wide open and are targeted towards the ceiling which has been painted
blood-red by the soothing illumination from the cheap LED bulbs. His bed has
embraced him and it does not have any second thoughts of letting him go. But
the boys thought does not converge with that of his bed. He tries to get up and
sit tall in that blurry world which has been blended with the smoke of dualnatured red light. With some physical efforts he now sits in the position he likes
the most. Now, he is staring at the rectangular glass slab which has been
supported by his thick engineering books. He needs a fix; the thought generates
enthralling impulses among the billion nerves of his body. He takes out his credit
card and puts the holy cocaine on the glass slab, segments the lump in five
equally spaced vertical columns and starts inhaling the elixir with the help of 10
rupee bill. As soon as the white powder travels in his body via the tunnels of his
body cavity, the cocaine starts copulating with his blood cells. This intense love
making sends waves of sensations to the shore of his brain. These august
sensations lock his mind in the room of sempiternal peace. He is at peace, his
kind of peace. Now, his body free falls and then it rests on his bed which has
been eagerly waiting to embrace him once again. A boy did this again. A boy has
woken up from his sleep now. A boy has come back to his reality. A reality for
him, a malevolent dream for us.