I dreamt that Gypsies came to Motovun. At first there were only a few of them, but their numbers grew all the time. I remember a mother in her forties with her daughter and son in their late teens. The mother and daughter wore kerchiefs embellished with embroidered flowers. The son was the youngest, but they all had very similar faces. They were sitting on the hotel terrace and looking around without a word. There were piles of bundles surrounding them. I remember their penetrating eyes. They needed food and someplace to stay, but no-one was happy to see them. My dream shifted, and there were Gypsies in my house. Many smaller children and toddlers were there, too. Once again, they were all eyes. Hungry and exhausted, they needed my help. Realizing that there was little I could do for so many of them, I was not happy to see them, either. In fact, I was increasingly uncomfortable and even worried. Much of my dream was in expectation of some resolution to the Gypsy invasion, but it was difficult to imagine any happy outcome at all. When I woke up, I still felt surrounded by many penetrating eyes that kept staring at me all the time.