It was just a thought, definitely not a colored one. Do thoughts really have colors? Does anyone really care about the colors of thought? For me, colors of the thoughts hardly mattered, as long as they are just thoughts with no shades of reality.
Lying in the bed I kept looking at the ceiling. I saw a big maze of unsolved puzzles. My life seemed to be surrounded by such puzzles. I have to solve each puzzle, I have to find a way out in each aspect of my life.