I had a series of vivid dreams last night. Photorealistic images. It was of an imaginary Boston, quite unlike the real one nor any city that I have ever seen in books or real life.
The first was a street with cafés and restaurants with towers, heavily decorated facades with a divider of palm trees, closer to a Mediterranean city than a New England one. The second dream was me being conveyed in a taxi by a driver in a peaked cap and gloves, down a street of black metal grilles adorned with white marble facades next to a huge, gleaming, white colonnaded building.