Just like the previous night, my beloved wished me nice dreams last night. She mentioned our visit to the moon once again. This time I obliged, too. I did my best to steer my dreams first to Russia, because the American space shuttle is gone by now, and then to a hefty rocket that could take us on a tour of the earth’s satellite. Everything went smoothly. We flew to Moscow and thence southeast to a launching facility. I remember my beloved in a space suit. Only her nose was visible through the visor. I also remember our tiny cabin on the flight to the moon. It was almost comfortable. Inside, we did not have to wear the suits. I was a bit disappointed not to see the earth from space, though. The moon itself was not exactly what I expected, either. The dark side was too dark to see almost anything, and the bright side was so bright that it was hard to see much detail on the surface. Our visit was marred by one more problem, which had never crossed my mind before the trip: my occasional farts. The stench lingered for a long time in my space suit. It took quite a while to get rid of it in the cabin, as well. With her sensitive nose, my beloved suffered even more than I did. When I told her about my dreams in the morning, she thought I was kidding her. Except for farting, of course.