"The sense of 'me' is detached from the sense of 'body'..."
For Vikrant, art is not a hobby; it is a war against the mundane.
Trapped in a corporate job and surrounded by what he sees as a culture of generic, "Instagrammable" art, he finds himself alienated from his friends and his own potential.
But inspiration arrives in a terrifying form.
An unintended oval on a canvas and a malfunctioning film camera lead him down a rabbit hole of drunk philosophy and lucid dreams. As the oval transforms into the face of a mysterious "Moonchild," Vikrant's grasp on the boundary between the waking world and the dreamscape begins to slip.
Is he breaking through to a higher artistic plane, or is he simply breaking?