I dreamt that I was staying at a wonderful house on the coast of Australia. Build on a small hill, it was a castle of sorts. There was a tall and sturdy stone wall running around it in a wide circle. Within the wall, there were tall pine trees. The house was also made of stone and it had a Mediterranean feel to it. It straddled a short stream running into the sea. Tall walls ran from the house toward the sea from each side of a stream. Each of them had an arched door that was closed with a heavy wooden door. I was renting the place at the time, but I was thinking of buying it and moving to Australia. I thought of the house, which was built by an Italian immigrant about a century ago, as a castle befitting the turbulent times ahead. It could be defended by a few people bearing simple arms. Besides, the stream was essential for survival. It was protected by the stone walls, too. I remember wandering in my dream about the man who built the castle. What were his motivations? What was he escaping from? When I woke up, it was dark still, but it did not take me long to fall asleep again. And I was back in the castle in no time. It was like home already.