I knock on the doors of my five roommates, waiting for any sound, any sign. No one answers. Are they also missing their furniture, was there a thief? I try to reach the people on other halls but I get no reply, no matter how many times I knock. Have they all gone to sleep? Or are they even in their rooms?

  Everything feels drifting apart. I feel like the only living person here.

  The white smoke coils through the scenery, thinning and curling as it goes. Nothing is visible, only the words are heard from a familiar voice, “We are a happy country and in a happy country, disturbances were not allowed. Don’t be "a disturbance" in other’s life. Just follow your routine.”

  The piercing sound of a bell jolts me awake. I realize I’ve fallen asleep on the floor of my room. I jump out of the room to see the line quietly descending the stairs. All of my roommates are ready to leave. With curiosity I take a glance at one of the rooms. It is lively but my room is still the same without any sign of habitancy before. I follow quietly along them, not joining the line but keeping pace with them. I keep to myself, to avoid disrupting anyone else's routines. I plan to ignore everyone on the way but somehow it seems that they are doing the same.

  I did not get my dream of the day again but instead I keep on remembering words, my memories of childhood. Were they always there or was I too busy in my life to ever hark back to those memories? The line gets in the class and the seat next to Isabella is occupied by the same girl from yesterday. I look at Isabella, she seems indifferent. I get on to the farthest seat at the back, three seats remain unoccupied this time.

  Looking from here, everybody seems normal, busy in their tasks. Each of them has their dreams with them. What should they do, they know. There is no confusion in their minds, no feeling of estrangement. Just me sitting far away watching them with no purpose defined. One question remains, “Why I am not getting my dreams?”

  “Has it ever happened to anyone?” I cannot think of anything unusual in our country ever.

  I live in a country named Visordurv. We share boundaries with Sorvivbur, Orrisuvvoc, and Avirovurs, which are the only four countries on this planet. They say these are the strongest ones that remained after the big destruction that happened.

  Every year the data is published and we rank the highest in the "Happiness" ratio, satisfaction, and wealth. We are a country with a minimal to zero crime rate. The dream is also a source of happiness for us that make us feel powerful and free from worries as we can glimpse into the future and see our next day. These dreams are our magical gift, and they contain a life of prosperity, status, and pride. The dream is formed according to our nature and our true potential. Thus, it is unique to everyone and is said to be coming from the time one is born. We are in a happy country. The government is trying its best to make our lives better. Their motto is, "We should eat healthy, sleep adequately, fulfil our services, and do not worry." We are asked to see the "Informants" if we have any worries in our minds. Thus, we live a peaceful and joyous life.

  But now I cannot see my future and thinking of it worries me. What does my future holds for me? I pause to get a meaning of all of my problems. “Have I become a defect? There must be a reason, why my dreams stopped? Why my room lacks any furniture where it is there in others’ room?” One thing is clear I cannot confide about this to anyone.

  Dad used to joke about how we are those machines that have feelings but cannot share them. Here I am sitting at the back of the class, containing all my feelings to myself. All my questions remain unanswered. "If only Dad were here".

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  The grammar exercise class is quiet, everybody doing the exercise in their books. Sitting at the back is not bad, actually, we can look at everyone, but they cannot look at us. The only problem is I do not know what I am supposed to do now. If my dream is there somewhere in my mind, I cannot remember it. Has somebody happened to my memory? I wonder if my dream includes me doing book exercise now or I should be somewhere else.

  "Should I tell someone, but will I be considered a defect, will they take me to the hospital, or worse, the authorities?".

  Dad always told me to avoid being a disturbance or the worst would happen. People don't know what happen to the disturbers, and they do not remain curious about it as per their routine. They get busy and forgot to ask questions.

  I do not even properly know what are disturbers. I have to do something to break the monotony and ask someone about it. Suddenly the Counselor’s Office door flash before my eyes. I have gone there before so it is better to go to a counselor than the hospital altogether.

  I reach to the door at the ground floor. My hands trembling at the door knob, will it be locked this time too?

  Suddenly a young lady opens the door.

  “Please come in.” She invites me.

  Another lady in her late 20s is sitting at a table, wearing a coat. A neatly clean desk sits in front of her. It contains a writing pad and pen, a calendar at left, and a small plant. I look at the name tag, it says Miss Longerton. She looks calm, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. The session begins with some introductory questions. I introduce myself and then she takes out a paper and writes something on the single A4 sheet. I do not want to beat around the bush so I ask her directly about the dreams why they have stopped coming, who are called the disturbers, and what happens to them?

  She looks me in the eye, unflinching. She seems to have slide into some kind of emptiness and after a brief moment of silence, she begins talking, "I know studies can be a little stressful at times but all you need to do is put your best and work hard."

  She pauses and continues, "You don't have to burden yourself with more responsibilities and you can stop the other extra activities if you want. Can you please briefly tell me why you feel uneasy and about what?"

  She stops, and the silence stretches. I look at her, she pretends to listening to something which is inaudible to me. She resumes, precise as ever, "I can see that your mind is not at ease and it is burdening. You think beyond what you can bear. This is not good. You should not pressure yourself unnecessarily. Try to remember the purpose of your life."

  I begin to stop her in between but she seems to be dictating a whole paragraph and my voice is just like a mosquito's noise to her ears which she ignores without noticing.

  She takes a deep breath and a beautiful smile comes over her face. A smile of peace, a smile that represents everything is alright. More like everything is what it ought to be. A smile of satisfaction.

  "Yes, it is to be "Happy". To be happy, free from all worries, problems, and stress. Your life is very beautiful and it has everything you need. Take a deep breath with me and see around. How beautiful it is, how peaceful all is."

  She stares into my eyes. "You can stop studying if you want. You can always find something to work in this world. You will have a new dream the next day determining a new purpose for you in your life. That's the beauty of it. The dreams are for us to see and they understand us. They will always work something out for us. You just need a good sleep and you will feel better. You have to stop thinking so much when nothing is in your hands. Let your unconscious take over and everything will fall into its place. You don't have to do anything."

  I know the whole conversation is irrelevant to my questions. But somewhere it strikes a past memory buried deep down which I never want to remember. "The purpose of life is to be Happy".

  She rises and with an impeccable smile says, "Right, I am glad you can feel at ease now. It will be for the best. So, I hope this session was helpful. You can proceed to class now. Thank you, Ave, Good luck and you can always connect with me for any future concerns." Then she shows me the way out of her room.

  There again I am standing outside the room but there is someone else beside me, a boy who may be two classes older than me. I briefly look at the closed door. With nothing else to do, I go back to my next class.