The morning after the Kite Duel, I stumbled out of bed in such a sleepy daze that I accidentally bonked my head on the lamp of my bedside table. Not a great start to the day.

Rubbing my eyes, I dragged my feet down the hall, only motivated to keep moving by the welcome smell of warm french toast and syrup. When I finally arrived at the kitchen, Garmadon was laboring over the stovetop, looking almost as tired as myself. He glanced over in my direction.

"Dr. Julien," he said, in the same tone of voice anyone else would say 'good morning.' "I'm glad you're up. I just finished breakfast; I was getting worried you wouldn't wake up before it got cold."

"Ah, well, for your cooking," I said, smiling, "I'd wake up early any day."

He chuckled and got to work flipping stacks french toast onto three nearby paper plates. Paper because, of course, washing the dishes was a huge no-no for any ghost in their right mind. Just another one of the many quirks of the afterlife— and personally, one of my favorites. Back on Ninjago, I'd hated doing the dishes so much I'd built myself a robot to do them for me.

"You sleep okay?" I asked, a little concerned for my present company.

"Yes," he said, clearly lying. He turned back to his work, pouring a pool of thick syrup on each of our plates.

I hesitated. Whatever he'd dreamt about last night— and from what Wu had told me of their shared backstory, I had a fair guess— he seemed worried that he'd dreamt it. I didn't want to push the matter, but I also remembered my first Nights of Flashback, and how much better I'd felt after knowing I wasn't alone in them.

"Have any dreams last night?" I asked, trying to put on as gentle and casual of a voice as I could. Garmadon hesitated, then turned around and asked:

"Yes, actually… how did you know?"

I nodded to myself, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Don't worry, it's perfectly normal." I was about to go on, but Garmadon thought I was done talking and continued.

"My dreams… they were of my childhood. Of times when I was so little I'd forgotten those days even happened, until now."

I chuckled. "Oh, trust me, I understand that feeling. To be honest, my entire life before I built Zane feels like a blur. All my fondest memories were after he was built— not that I had a particularly bad childhood," I added quickly. But Garmadon was too engrossed in thought to respond. For several seconds, he simply stood at the stove with his brow furrowed before speaking up again.

"It felt so real. As if… I wasn't even remembering anything. I didn't know what was going to happen next; all the emotions I experienced the first time, I experienced the exact same way all over again. And everything was so sharp and distinct and…" he trailed off again. Finally, he sighed and said, "Well, it sure didn't feel like a dream."

"Are you old geezers starting your Nights of Flashback already?" came a much younger yet much raspier, morning-struck voice. As the day before, Morro came stumbling into the party just a few minutes late, looking deader than ever despite having slept longer than either of us.

"What in Ninjago are Nights of Flashback?" Garmadon asked, as I walked over and took the plates of food to set on the table.

"Morro, you're right on cue, as usual," I said, motioning for him to join me at the table. "Since you like to talk and I want to eat, would you care to explain the Nights of Flashback to Garmadon?"

"What'ver," he mumbled, snatching a piece of toast from my plate and popping it into his mouth. I retorted with a "hey!" and stole one from his plate in return.

"The Nights of Flashback— or, for you, the Nights of Flash-WAYback," he started with a yawn, "are a sort of unintentional, non-optional ceremonial preparation for Day of the Departed, which I believe is in…" he glanced at the conveniently nearby calendar on the wall. "Five days, counting today."

I chuckled at his rather accurate description and took a big bite of french toast dunked in syrup as he went on. Most syrups were too sweet for me, but one of the advantages of someone else using my ingredients was that there was never anything on the plate I didn't like.

"The Nights of Flashback occur during the days leading up to Dotted; how many days depends on how old you are because—"

"Dotted?" Garmadon asked, taking his own seat at the table. Morro rolled his eyes.

"Day of the Departed. D—O—T—D. Dotted. It's an acronym. Makes things shorter. ANYWAY, during the Nights of Flashback, you have vivid dreams of your lifetime. Key moments and sometimes random snippets of your life, usually in chronological order, are perfectly recreated in your head. You hear, see, smell, taste, and feel everything exactly as it was. The dreams last until Dotted, which is, you know, the most celebrated holiday around here because people get to see their families and stuff—"

"I'm sorry, WHAT?" Garmadon sputtered, almost choking on a piece of toast.

"Well, you know, not like, interact with them, but see them and—" Suddenly, he frowned. "Oh, wait, you don't know about how Dotted works here yet. Guess I have to explain THAT, too." He sighed and shoved a huge amount of food in his mouth, as if preparing for some great physical undertaking. "All right, so you know how during Day of the Departed in Ninjago, people send up red lanterns for those that have departed? Well, guess who receives those lanterns?"

Garmadon, still silenced by awe, meekly pointed a questioning finger towards himself.

"Yup. The lanterns' spirits pass through the physical realms into ours, and hang themselves in the air around the Central Willow. People go find the lanterns that were sent up for them— apparently there's some mystical force that guides you towards your lantern— and when they find them, the lanterns display updates on the lives of the people who sent them up."

"'Apparently' there's a mystical force?" Garmadon asked, not noticing my silent signals not to.

"Yea, well, I don't know what it feels like. Obviously, no one's ever sent up a lantern for me before, so…" Morro shrugged, and kept a remarkable poker face.

"Oh." Garmadon went quiet.

"Y-yes, well," I said, attempting to change the subject, well aware that Morro's poker face was almost definitely a facade, "that's the focal event of the night, but there are also traditional meals and other festivities, like dancing." I got up from my seat and walked over to the refrigerator, intending to get another bottle of syrup (Morro had gone a bit overboard with his), but upon looking into the cold appliance I found it rather empty. I turned around expectantly. Before I even spoke a word, Morro quickly became very interested in readjusting the green streak in his hair.

"You know, last time I checked, there was food in this fridge," I said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hm. I thought it looked rather empty when I went to make breakfast," Garmadon said, also turning his head toward the teen. Morro paused, then looked up at me.

"Well, what did you expect with three ghosts living in one house?" he huffed defensively.

"I didn't. I wasn't expecting company, particularly not company who apparently likes to steal midnight snacks," I teased back.

"Hey, my Nights of Flashback don't start until a day before Dotted, sometimes two. I get bored! And hungry!" he groaned. Garmadon crossed his arms, but I merely laughed at the boy.

"Well then, looks like today, those three ghosts will be spending time going grocery shopping at Trader Godot's," I said with a smirk. Morro started to protest, but I winked and cut him off.

"Hey, what did you expect?"

(A/N: Man, I'm on a writing kick lately! Bonus points for anyone who gets the pun at the end :D Also, I'd like to say a quick thank-you to all my guests who leave reviews: I may not respond to you guys, but I still read every single comment you leave and they make me very happy! Thank you all so much!)