I was ten years old the first time I realized my dreams were in vivid colors.

With a house full of people during the Christmas holiday, I fell asleep next to my sweet grandmother in her tiny house in Ambler, Pennsylvania. While she had no problem finding her way to the feather ball, I stared quietly at the dark ceiling, waiting my turn for slumber and the dream that would sweep me away to another place and time.

You see, I have always been a dramatic dreamer, but I had no idea the dream I would have that night would linger with me forever.

I was sitting in a walnut shell. Mind you, this was no ordinary walnut shell. Constructed of iron walls and ceilings with thick bolts, this nutshell had been made to travel.

And travel we did.

Who’s we, you ask? Sitting next to me was none other than Rip Van Winkle, and the guy never awoke the entire time of our fantastic voyage. The old man with the long white beard had the audacity to wear a watch that hung by a thick chain around his neck that ticked off every second, and he snored at the same time. I remember I was rather peeved by his noisy presence.

When the shell took off, I remember seeing huge mounds of brown dirt give way, and I realized we were starting our trip under the ground. Through the large glass windshield, we passed giant, multicolored earthworms, shrews with crooked, mangled teeth, fossils, woodchips, and rocks. We went through lakes and oceans, and I saw jellyfish with smiles and a sneering octopus. This dream went on so long I believe I traveled from one end of the world to the other.

It was a fantastic voyage.

Since then, I have had many wild dreams over the years, and I have learned to embrace them all, even the scary ones, for it is my nature to dream, whether during slumber in the dark of night or the bright light of midday. What I learned that night was to listen to my dreams, remember the details, because this is the stuff life is made of.