When I was 19-long before I ever thought I would land a career writing about space-I dreamed I was standing on the surface of Mars, looking over a rusted desert dotted with rocks, stuck in a perpetual lukewarm dusk, transfixed by the desolation. After soaking everything in for what seemed like hours, I looked up and saw a space station hanging in the sky. I decided to fly up there using some kind of Iron Manlike jet boots on my feet. Then I woke up.
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