When I was about seven years old, I had a beautiful dream.

I was in my Tae Kwon Do class, and a pale-faced alien named Nikken was a new student. We became instant friends, kicking and breaking boards in tandem and sparring very playfully with each other. 

But then when class was over, Nikken said he had to go home and could never return. He had to take the ghost train to his home planet, and it would be landing in the parking lot very soon.

My initial reaction to this news was the urge to get his autograph before he left. I rushed inside the Tae Kwon Do studio and frantically rummaged through my elementary school desk for a piece of paper and a pencil. But alas! Every scrap of paper I found had dark pencil scribbles all over it! I tore through my desk for the back of a pamphlet, bare space in a math workbook…..anything, but to no avail.

A few minutes later, I heard a loud train whistle coming from outside. Panicked, I grabbed one of the dark sheets of paper and ran down the hallway as fast as I could.

And as my body burst through the front door, I caught the sight of a faint, grey ghost train lifting off and gliding away into the summer dusk.

I had wanted Nikken’s autograph to remember him by. But as it turns out, I didn’t need that autograph at all.

The first dream I ever remember having was just a pulsating, glowing green skull on a river bank. That’s it.