I dreamt that I was at a round table in Ljubljana. The language used was English. My beloved was with me for the occasion. The atmosphere was informal, and the discussion went very well. It veered from one subject to another quite freely. As this was a meeting of minds, there was no audience. There were no microphones or cameras, either. While we were saying goodbye to each other at the end of the day, my ex-wife unexpectedly appeared. I had hard time recognizing her in a bluish-gray jacket and pants. She said that she had happened to be in Ljubljana and that she had learned about the event on the World Wide Web. It was awkward seeing her after so many years, and I wanted to leave as soon as possible. But then I noticed a girl in her teens peering at me over the back of a tall chair. She was all eyes under a bush of wavy brown hair. “And who is this?” I exclaimed although I knew perfectly well that the girl must be my daughter, Maya. She accompanied her mother on her trip to Ljubljana. I went behind the chair and reached for her. She pulled back, though. She did not want to be hugged. I reached for her again, but she became rigid. I remember that she was very tense when I tried to grab hold of her with both hands. But my beloved was delighted with Maya. “How sweet she is,” she kept repeating, “how sweet she is!” I woke up at this point. It was still dark outside, and I did my best to fall asleep again. The memory of my daughter’s tight muscles stayed with me through the morning, though.