I dreamt that Motovun got flooded. There was much rain, but the sea was also rising precipitously. I remember walking along the quay in the port and seeing that the newspaper kiosk was standing in water. The kiosk faced the quay on one side. The ground around it was somewhat lower. It was covered with coarse gravel, and several cars were usually parked in its vicinity. On this occasion, there were no cars anywhere in sight. The newspaper man I knew well was in the kiosk, though. He must have come to work in rubber boots. “Do you remember acqua alta like this?” I asked him after our greetings. “Not in forty some years,” he cackled. “I’ve been here for ten years,” I shook my head, “but I have not yet seen anything like this!” Indeed, the sea was just about to reach the top of the quay. When I woke up, it was morning already. It was raining, but Motovun is far from the coast. The sea would have to flood much of the world to reach the hilltown.