On Sunday night I dreamt I went to the moon. It was one of the most vivid dreams I've ever had. The spacecraft pulls into the docking area, something goes click (not audibly but there was definitely a moment when the giant mechanisms connect with each other), and then there was cheering in the cabin. There were eight people and much whooping. I hugged a woman who was, in the dream, my friend. Even though travelling in space must already have been a treat, it was somehow in this moon landing that we had really done something difficult and unexpected. I remember feeling like I had finally made it to the ultimate off-the-beaten-track destination (must be the Lonely Planet mantra kicking in).
I woke up, ecstatic. I wanted to go right back to sleep again, to relive that moment of pure jubilation. But of course, it wasn't there anymore.