It’s raining. The older siblings are at school and the boy is four years old. The dampness of everywhere translates to everything nice. The cushion is semi-comfortable. It’s cold and the blue blanket keeps his body warm. What he’s feeling is similar to the sensation you get when taking a piss. Electrifying. Sweet and almost like having mini-orgasms. He curls up with a pillow too big for him and dreams with his eyes as awake as his mother’s call for breakfast. Here’s what he’s seeing: an older man in a lab suit breathing in the smoke from apparatuses that are each filled with green and yellow liquid. There’s lots of boiling going on. He likes to watch grown-up scifi movies with his father and it’s probably where this alluvion came from. You know, from the scenes where men and women in white are busy solving the movies’ conundrums and mysteries. His father seems to enjoy it, and so he does too. It’s actually not determined what the man was up to, but the premise is the man and the room represent his idea of adult happiness. The man looks happy. That is him. Beguiled, he realizes it’s his first conscious attempt to form a dream.
Years pass, he wonders what happened to the boy whose mind walked through un-desentisised roads of big things and orgasmic possibilities. He is lost without any valid excuse, he is running with his feet swollen.