I like coloured dreams very much. Most of the times, I am so scared of them coming true, that I prefer to stay back, and hide behind the black-and-white drapes. Coloured ones come with an expiry date always, like mulberries. The redness fades, just as the cold sets in. I have this weird connection with dreams perhaps. Maybe, just maybe, the lack of sleep is just the denial to see the dream again. I getting quite fond of depriving the senses. Maybe, this is a sign, of something, too.