I dreamt that I met a woman who returned to her house in Motovun after forty-nine years. She was in her late seventies. Wedged between other houses, her house was tall and narrow. In my dream, I could not remember seeing it ever before. Small and slender, the woman spoke halting Croatian, but at some point she switched to American English, which she spoke with a faint Croatian accent. To my surprise, she found her house in perfect shape. It needed quite a bit of cleaning, but it was fine otherwise. “The shower is very weak,” she complained about the water pressure at some point. “My nephews would never visit here without a good shower.” I mentioned that I had spent many years in the States, and that I thus understood what she was talking about, but she went on and on about the importance of a good shower to her nephews. I wanted to ask her for her family name, so I could place her in the history of the hilltown. Also, I wanted to learn about the reason why she left in the early Sixties, about a decade after the post-war exodus, but I woke up before I managed to cut through the shower story.