A Small Detour Through Dreams

I was still in Rovinj this morning.

That alone felt like an achievement.

I had coffee again near the harbor, because apparently I am becoming the kind of man who measures peace in small cups of macchiato and the sound of boats bumping gently against old stone. The sea was calm, the air was warm, and for a short while I almost convinced myself that I could stay another week and become suspiciously knowledgeable about Croatian pastries.

Then the invitation arrived.

Not an emergency. Not a warning. Not a glowing symbol burning itself into the table.

An actual invitation.

Dreambound Voyages was opening in the Emporium, and someone had decided I should attend. They describe themselves as a tour agency for guided journeys through dreams, dreamlands, collective subconscious realms, and artificial dream worlds.

Which is exactly the sort of thing that sounds wonderful until you remember that dreams are where the mind stores all the doors it was afraid to open while awake.

Still, the opening was beautiful. Soft lights, floating brochures, reception desks that changed shape depending on your mood, and a very polite guide who asked whether I preferred a peaceful dream, an adventurous one, or “a carefully supervised confrontation with unresolved symbolic architecture.”

I chose coffee.

After that I went to The Cinematic Conundrum and watched The Fractured Sky, a film about an Earth where the sky is literally breaking apart and shards of reality fall to the ground, creating zones of chaos. A scientist races to repair it before the whole world collapses into nothingness.

Very relaxing choice. Perfect for a man trying not to think about broken realities.

For dinner I tried the Molecular Mirage Deli, which specializes in food that lies to your eyes and tells the truth only after you bite it. I had Candle Wax Soup, served in a little brass holder with a spoon that looked too ceremonial for comfort. It tasted like roasted pumpkin, cream, smoked garlic, and something sweet I could not identify. Then came Faux-wood Grilled Steak, which looked like a small polished plank but cut like butter and tasted like charcoal-grilled beef with pepper sauce. Dessert was an Ice Cream Sculpture that looked like carved marble and melted into three different flavors depending on which side you started from.

I have eaten stranger meals.

Not many, but enough.

By evening I returned to Rovinj in your world. The harbor was quieter, the stones were warm from the day, and the real sky above me was still whole.

That felt important.

Tomorrow, I may continue resting.

Or I may make the terrible mistake of reading my messages.