I dreamt that I was working in a laboratory of some kind in Zagreb. I remember that the whole team working together wore white coats. One member of the team was quite surprised when he heard me speaking English on the phone one day. “You speak English with a Serbian accent,” he said. There was disappointment and perhaps even annoyance in his remark. “Never heard of such a thing,” I defended myself. He insisted, though. “You definitely speak English with a Serbian accent,” he said, this time with a tinge of anger. I kept repeating that this was the first time I had heard anything like this and that I had no idea what to say about it. Notwithstanding the nationalistic undertone of my lab mate’s comment, which I found disgusting, I was truly puzzled by what he said. When I woke up, I wondered about my English accent. The first thing anyone notices is the American twang, but another accent is undeniably buried underneath it. After all, I went to Cambridge, Massachusetts, from Belgrade, where I lived from my second to twenty-fourth year. Besides, I switched to my own version of Croatian, which no-one can place with any certainty, only when I decided to move to Istria. In short, it is entirely possible that my old Belgrade accent is still buried in my English. I once met a British journalist who immediately placed my accent. “You must be from Yugoslavia,” he said. As it turned out, he was working for a radio station and thus had a sharp ear. But most people who would try to place my accent would go for the Netherlands, of all countries. Anyhow, this turned out to be an interesting dream.