I dreamt that I was talking with Klaudio Ivašić in the Motovun loggia. His daughter, Dea, was with us, but she did not say anything in my dream. The weather was delightful, and so was our conversation. There was a lot of laughter, too. I do not remember what we were talking about, but our friendship was wonderful. The scene changed, and I saw Klaudio’s sister, Tatjana Sutera. We did not talk, but it was obvious from her gaze that she liked me, and that it was a joy for her to see me. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I remembered both Klaudio and Tatjana the last time I saw them in Motovun. Their faces were grim. It was obvious that both of them hated me with passion bordering on zeal. Only Dea would greet me cheerfully whenever we happened to meet. And all of us were friends until five years ago, when municipal elections divided us on golf development in Motovun. That was just after the financial crisis, when its global impact was not yet appreciated in Istria. Alas, have we not been divided by golf, we would have remained good friends to this day! I had hard time falling asleep again.