Yesterday, in the late afternoon,

I lay down for a nap that lasted maybe an hour altogether--one of maybe a half-dozen or a dozen such dreams in my whole life (that I remember) of utter transcendent, joy, wit, music, happiness: A many-leveled villa on the Amalfi Coast, a large, loose family of Olympian divinities (as they were on subsequent reflection), adventurers, passers-through, domestics, minor grades of nobility, adolescents, inglesi italianati--wandering from terrace to giardinetto to salotto, chatting, gossiping, laughing--and singing.  Everywhere the plunking of lutes, and a canzonetta that seemed to've caught everybody's fancy--I'd heard it at least twice through before I joined in at the last to sing it along with everyone else, before we all sat down to the dinner laid out on the upper terrace....