There was a bed in my grandparents’ house. A special one. We used to call it the hammock because it had a hole right in the middle of the mattress. At that time I was not familiar with the word stress, and was too ignorant regarding the importance of relaxation. But I do recall the satisfaction. I used to sink half of my body in the mattress and would sleep the sleep of angels. Sometimes, in the evening right before getting into the house in order to go to sleep, I used to stop in front of the house. I would breathe in the keen wind of the night and approach the flowers in my grandmother’s garden. They were Nicotiana alata. Ever since then, it seems to me that all summer nights have that scent. Strong, but delicate at the same time. Then, I would glance at the sky, being under the impression that here, at my grandparents’ place, the sky was more generous. Not only was I able to see more stars, but I reckoned that the stars I knew were closer to me here than in other places. And the moon.. Well, the moon would shine brighter here. I don’t know why, but I always thought that faced with such splendor even Creanga’s mother would have had uttered the same famous words, but this time referring to the moon: Do come out fair-haired child so that the moon would shine. And the moon would come out as it knew with whom was dealing with. Then I would come into the house, with my shoulders wet from the chilliness of the night. And all I wanted was to get under the sheets and warm up. Once I was comfortably installed in my hammock, I would start dreaming. Or maybe I was, actually, continuing the dream. For weren’t that smell of Nicotiana alata and the clear sight of the moon parts of a dream?!