I dreamt that I was walking with my beloved through the upper town in Zagreb. It was jammed with tourists. I remember hearing Italian and Spanish when we turned a corner and headed toward the lower town. Both of us were annoyed with the crowd. And then we heard a woman dashing around and asking everyone in a strong American accent: “Do you have a dollar?” She seemed to be beside herself. In her mid-fifties, wearing her frizzy blond hair rather long, and dressed in a light-green dress, she was not begging. She looked middle-class from head to foot. But she needed that single dollar to buy something or to round off a bill. Seeing us turning a corner, she rushed after us: “Do you have a dollar?” Both of us shook our heads and mumbled something as we rushed on. “For crying out loud,” I remember grumbling, “that’s only six kuna!” Why the bother, that is? The alarm clock woke me up. My beloved was already gone a couple of hours earlier. My dream was true to life as far as both of us are concerned. Neither of us is a great fan of tourists.