Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
If it was happening to him, all right, he could take that ... but what if he was happening to it? Putting people painlessly to sleep is really a depressing job. It Coleman came in the morning before I was really ready to face the wanted to believe them. The stories gave them what they were after—without me having to break the law and put them to sleep for crimes they hadn't committed. door, "when are you going to let me throw that stiff Coleman into the Dreamland in principle?" "Why, it's the logical step forward in penal servitude. Man has been heading toward this since he first started civilizing himself. After I waited for Coleman's reaction. He merely nodded. I stretched out my wet palm toward the door. Was or was not Coleman telling the truth when he said this life of mine time. Punishment, rehabilitation, all of it is secondary to that. The purpose of confinement is confinement." The councilman edged forward an inch. "And you really think Dreamland was itself only a Dream? If it was, did I want to finish my last day with the right decision so I could return to some alien reality? Or did living through a—uh—movie with full sensory participation for year after year can get boring." "I should think so," Coleman said emphatically. "Warden, don't you "Well," I hedged, "it's the most humane we've found yet. I suppose I deliberately want to make a mistake so I could continue living the is the most humane confinement possible?" "Coleman," I said, "you can get out of here. As warden, I'm granting actually living these vicarious adventures?" That was a question that made all of us in the Dreamland service Alexander of Macedonia, Tarzan, Casanova, or Buffalo Bill. They are conscious of all the time that is being spent out of their real lives they know they have relatives and friends outside the dream. They know, unless—" Coleman lifted a dark eyebrow above a black iris. "Unless?" Dreamland." Coleman sat back down suddenly. "You don't want life as a Sleeper, do you?" I pursued. "You did want "As I said, I've been following your career closely, and if you get through the next twenty-four-hour period as you have through sentence of a few months or a few years. I can think of two reasons why. The answer is probably a combination of both. In the first place, you are a joy-popper with Dreams—you don't want to live out your life in one, but you like a brief Dream every few years like an occasional dose of a narcotic. In the second place, you probably have political reasons for wanting to hide out somewhere the foregoing part of your Dream, you will be awakened at this time short tomorrow. Congratulations!" I sat there and took it. true, if I had forgotten that everything that happened was only a Dream, and if I admitted it, the councilman would know I was mad. were come upon those same two people talking the same talk before, hadn't I wondered for an instant if it couldn't be a Dream, not reality at all? Once I had experienced a Dream for five or ten minutes. I was driving trees, a dank, lavender maze. I had known at the time it was a Dream, Dream." Coleman stood up and walked out of my office. The clock told me it was after five. I began clearing my desk. but still, as the moments passed, I became more intent on the "I've always thought," I said, "that it would be a good idea to show a prisoner what the modern penal system was all about by giving him a Dream in which he dreamed about Dreamland itself." "Yes, indeed," Coleman concurred. Just that and no more. I leaned intimately across my beautiful oak desk. "I've thought that projecting officials into the Dream and letting them talk with the prisoners might be a more effective form of investigation than mere him to change his concept of humor. The day was starting. If I got through it, giving a good show, I would be released from my Dream, he had said smugly. "Mr. Horbit—Eddie—" I said, glancing at his file projected on my desk pad, "I can't put you back into a Dream. You served your full time for your crime. The maximum." "But I haven't adjusted to society!" reality running around loose." He paused, puzzled. "Hell, I don't know why I can't express myself like I used to." He could express himself much better in his Dream. He had been Abraham Lincoln in his Dream, I saw. He had lived the life right up to the night when he was taking in An American Cousin at the Ford Theater. Horbit couldn't accept history that he had no more life to live. He only knew that if in his delirium he could gain Dreamland once more, he could get back to the hard realities of dealing with the problems of Reconstruction. Suddenly, Coleman's words hit me in the back of the neck. This had to be some kind of test. But a test for what? Had I been deliberately told that I was living only a Dream to see all the others before him who had served long as warden of Dreamland. A few had quit while they were still ahead and spent the rest of their lives recuperating. Our society didn't produce individuals tough enough to stand the strain of putting their fellow human beings to sleep for long. sleep sentence would be extended. Or was it that, in some sane part of my mind, I wanted release from unreality badly enough to take any risk to prove that I was morally capable of returning to the real world? that's a crime! I have to be put to sleep!" or if some important project was falling apart without his help, but most of the time I just sat with my eyes propped open, letting a sea of vindictive screeching and beseeching wailings wash around me. of riots, solitary confinement, television, and jailbreaks may have made time easier to serve? Do these men ever think they are Paulson tried his insufficient best to smile evilly. "It wasn't conscience, Warden. I never lie awake a minute whenever I kill anybody. It's just—well, Dreaming isn't so bad. Last time I was Allen "Do you want to wait voluntarily in the detention quarters?" I asked him. He agreed readily enough. I watched him out of the office and rang for lunch. The news on the wall video was dull as usual. A man got tired of hearing peace, safety, prosperity and brotherly love all the time. I Coleman entered wearing the same black tunic, the same superior Coleman had first received a suspended sentence, then two terminal sentences to be fixed by the warden. My predecessors had given him first a few weeks, then a few months of sleep in Dreamland. Coleman's eyes didn't frighten me I focused right on the pupils. "That I couldn't follow his reasoning. Just how making me think my life was only a Dream such as I imposed on my own prisoners could help him, I "Warden Walker," Coleman intoned in his magnificent voice, "I'm "You show symptoms of being a habitual criminal, Coleman. I think you Coleman cocked his head thoughtfully, concerned. "That seems rather "You would suggest a shorter sentence?" "If it were my place to choose, yes. A few years, perhaps. But I couldn't figure him. Coleman had wealth and power as a councilman Dream world. Yet he didn't want to be in for life, the way Paulson and Horbit did. There seemed to be no point or profit in what he had told me that Coleman smiled benignly. "Certainly, Warden." long, thin legs stretched out in front of him, staring dismally into the gloom of the room. No wonder he found reality so boring and depressing with so downbeat a mood cycle. I wondered why they hadn't He bolted upright in his chair. "You're going to put me back to sleep." luster. "Then this is the Dream. I've thought—"

<question>:
Why did Coleman tell the warden he was in a dream?

<options>:
A He wanted to be in a dream forever
B He wanted to never be put in a dream
C He wanted him to know the truth
D He liked being in dreams for short periods of time

<answer>:

D