I dreamt that two old friends or colleagues came to visit me, but I do not remember who they were any longer. We were never very close, at any rate. Women in their late fifties, they were both taller than me. Dressed rather too carefully, they looked horrendous—like men in drag. I was showing them around Motovun. I remember that we came to a place with a wonderful view, and that I was showing them various things of interest. We were standing next to each other and leaning against a low wall. I was in the middle. As I was pointing left and right, my right hand somehow found itself between the thighs of the woman standing to my right. She wore a short skirt. Her legs were bare. Before I could pull my hand back, the woman arched herself toward it. Instantly aroused, she wiggled herself backwards. Her eyes closed and her lips parted, she started sighing and panting. Relishing my hand, she squeezed it with her grinding thighs. The woman to my left first looked behind my back and then gave me a stern look. I was mortified. More, I panicked. How could something like this ever happen? When I managed to pull my hand out, I started apologizing profusely. I kept repeating that the whole thing was entirely inadvertent. It happened by sheer chance. Something like this would not even cross my mind, ever. Sorely disappointed, the woman who was so excited a moment earlier kept wilting. She was ever closer to tears. I woke up relieved to discover it was all a silly dream.