When I was 12 years old, I was on a train to Moscow. I slept on the upper shelf. Head to the window. The second floor was free. And suddenly I dreamed of a dream: I swam on a gray dusty surface, the sky above my head is black, without stars almost, and what is - small and dull, around such hills of dust or sand, slides well, the surface is soft. I wake up, swinging my head to the door on the opposite shelf. Damn, neither before nor after this lunarism happened to me. When I went back, I was afraid to sleep.