I dreamt that I briefly saw a man I knew. It was like a vision in the dream, the rest of which I do not remember at all. The vision was sharp, but it lasted only a few seconds. His name was Todd and he was English. We were not exactly friends, but we always greeted each other when we met, and we occasionally exchanged a few words. In his fifties, he was skinny and short. His face was on the long side and it was quite creased. He had a wide mouth with thin lips. His eyes were like two long slits. A bush of dark, graying hair completed the picture. In my dream, he gave me a long look and cracked a smile. When I woke up, I tried to remember who Todd actually was. His face was so familiar, I was convinced I knew him. I even went through my website in search of the name, but without any success. At long last it flashed through my mind that the man who appeared in the vision was Slovene, in fact. He comes to Motovun a few times a year, usually on a fancy motorcycle with Koper or Capodistria license plates. He is in the company of a different woman each time I see him. Although I do not know his name, Todd fits him perfectly. The next time we chance upon each other in Motovun, I must tell him about my dream.