Martina Pahović dreamt last night that Damir Gregorović, known to all as Greg, had died. I was there when she told him about her dream. There was much merriment, though. In these parts, such dreams are believed to prolong the life of the one who has supposedly died. Greg ordered drinks for all of us, and Martina told us her dream in some detail. And then we all started talking about our own dreams. Martina has a number of recurring ones, one of which involves a certain Nerea, who used to live in the nursing home right in Motovun, which was moved to the nearby Brkač several years ago. Most of the people there suffer from mental disorders of some kind. “Nerea is still there,” Martina said with a big grin. When Martina was a kid, which was some twenty years ago, Nerea was famous around the hilltown for her ways with unwanted animals. “Oh,” people would say, “it’s time to call Nerea.” If anyone had a problem with pigeons, she would be called. She would be called if anyone had unwanted puppies or kittens, as well. Nerea would see to it that the problem was solved in no time. There was no fuss, either. In Martina’s dreams, Nerea talks ever so slowly. She goes on and on forever, but Martina never remembers a single word upon waking. Delighted, I wanted to know more about this woman. “You would love her,” Martina beamed at me. “She wears her gray hair short, just like you, and she has a huge, hooked nose!”