I dreamt that my beloved and I discovered a whole pile of junk in my garden upon our return to Motovun. The film festival was just over. Someone must have camped in the garden. There were crushed cardboard boxes and broken furniture in the pile. On top of it was a broken lounge chair made of fine leather. I was livid. First I searched the whole garden for clues of temporary occupation, and then I headed toward the municipal offices on the upper square. I was sure to write them a harsh letter, but I wanted to tell them a few things beforehand. I woke up before I reached the upper square, but I was still huffing and puffing with rage. The festival is an abomination and the municipality ought to do something about it. Enough of this travesty of culture! It took me a while to calm down enough to fall asleep again.