The boy wakes with a start. He pants and claws at his covers, wrenching them off his sweat-drenched body. It was a nightmare. The boy breathes a sigh of relief. His clock reads four am. He tiptoes down the hall and turns on the television. Plugging in his video game, he relishes the familiar characters. He begins to play but is strangely detached. The boy suddenly looks up at the screen and stares in disbelief at the words that signify he has lost. The boy is shaken up; he has never lost a game. He reaches for the console to restart the game but hesitates. The striking realism of his dream fills his thoughts and the boy is startled by his own resolution. He picks up the video game, wrenching the cord from the wall and gallantly places it in the bin. He pulls his jacket from the coatrack in the hall and puts it on over his pyjamas. The boy steps out into the frosty morning and closes the door behind him. He will no longer rely on the virtual reality of his games; he will make his own reality from now on.