It is dark in the house. The night is quiet. The boy turns over in his sleep, and in his dream a new scene begins. He sees another boy, and it looks just like him, but it isn't him. He knows it isn't him. The room around this other boy looks just like his bedroom, but it isn't his bedroom. He knows it isn't his bedroom. He looks until he sees. Right in front of him, he can see the small differences.
Instead of green as it should be, his door is painted blue. And the photograph on his nightstand is of him with Dad, not Mom. No, not his Dad and Mom. Some other kid's parents. It's so wrong that they look just like his own parents. The thought is so dark it causes a wave of nausea, and he feels a chill in his throat that wakes him.
The door is painted the wrong color. The parent in the photgraph is the wrong parent, and he retches, and cries out into the darkness, and two parents come running, but in the night, in the dark he cannot tell just whose parents they are, and he scrabbles away from them in terror for five whole minutes of screams, before the mom can sound enough like his mom with loving shushes to convince him into her arms, where he finally falls asleep.
In the morning, the door is blue, and he is disturbed, but nothing he can think turns the door back to its proper green, and he spends the rest of his childhood days mournfully wondering whatever happened to his first set of parents, until finally he decides it was just a stupid dream or just the stuff kids believe that adults have to forget. So he does.
