I dreamt that I was trying to call a relative from the States—a son of Ljubo Tudor, whose father came to the island of Krk from the island of Hvar in the Adriatic around the turn of the century and who married my father’s aunt Sophia. The phone rang for a long time, and then a message kicked in, to the effect that my relative could be reached between two-thirty and four-thirty in the afternoon. As I was listening to the message I realized that my relative was actually talking into the receiver, but he hung up before I managed to say anything. Then I dreamt that I woke up and that I told Lauren how some dreams are as humdrum as reality itself. When I actually woke up, she was still sleeping by my side.