Journals From The Void

I am a scientist; short, and dressed in a white lab coat.
My basement is a concrete laboratory in which I am testing wormholes. The black hole is generated. I throw a penny into it in order to see if it works, my eyes fixated on the camera I had set up at a location in the desert. A wormhole appears, just as I suspected, and consumes all the sand in the area, and I notice a single penny come out of the wormhole. All of a sudden, sand fills my basement; the black hole dissipated into some weird black mechanical ball with buttons. I barely manage to escape with the strange device without being suffocated. After splitting the ball, a massive, complex, and utterly green wireframe is revealed.
"I... I solved all of humanity's problems!" I shouted, laughing.
An unspecified many years later, there is a space station with the words, "<my name that you probably don't know> memorial: a History of Faster Than Light Travel," engraved on a sign attached to the top(according to my perspective) of the space station. After that, it's a rather slow fade back into reality
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I'm glad I had this dream; it taught me a lot about the desire I had apparently hidden deep in my subconscious, away from even myself. Specifically, the thirst that I only knew about after having this dream, the deep, utterly human desire to be recognized with respect from doing something that I love to do. I don't generally like any attention, but this dream made me realize that, even I , the silent little weirdo who would always distance myself from others, wanted to be recognized, no matter how much I believe otherwise.