I dreamt that I was watching a movie in which people skied down steep cobblestone streets of a medieval town. There was no snow. The stone appeared to be slippery. There were several such scenes, but in one I recognized the stones. “That’s Motovun!” I shouted. Indeed, the ramp going toward the archway connecting the lower and upper squares was unmistakable. To the left of the ramp, which runs along the wall of the Communal Palace, there are several wide plateaus that are rather slippery. But I got annoyed with the skiing scenes pretty quickly. The cobblestones on Borgo and Gradiziol are not slippery at all. In fact, the stone used there was selected by our clever ancestors for its grip, which was essential for donkeys, horses, and mules used to carry things up and down the hill. “They must have put rollers under those skis,” I remember exclaiming in irritation. When I woke up, I remembered that I would be going to Motovun tomorrow afternoon. Its slippery streets do have a meaning, after all.