I dreamt that I was leafing through a loose collection of large photographs of paintings that were to be shown at an exhibition of prewar art from Zagreb, and that I came upon a portrait of my mother. I did not know the painting, but I recognized her immediately. Under the photograph, I found her name: Milena Bon. I do not remember the year, though. The painting was dominated by magentas and turquoises. I remembered that I had heard of a portrait of my mother that ended up in the collection of a Yugoslav king, and I was eager to see it at the exhibition. The rest of the dream is a blur. I was with some acquaintances in the museum where the exhibition was to take place, and they were about to show me the painting itself. If I remember correctly, one of them was the curator. But I woke up before we came to a room where all the paintings were assembled before the hanging. It was still dark outside. My mother’s name remained etched in my mind through the morning. I can still see it in black and white.