A couple of days ago, on a very last September day, a very unusual and bright sunshine beamed through the open window directly toward our bed and my still not completely awakened face. It was an incredibly beautiful Sunday morning, and with my half-opened right eye, I tried to glimpse our small digital clock, and like usual, I needed to turn on my extra-powered vision in order to see the time. After a couple of seconds of adjusting, grimacing, and winking, the very last morning dream finally faded away, and I saw that I had overslept again, like in almost established tradition for a couple of dozenSundays in the past. It was perfectly fine. My wife and son, who again moved to our bed at some point of the night, were still sleeping under the amber-colored sunlight, enjoying their night adventures in their morning dreams. I got up out of bed and, during my morning routine performed in slow motion, including checking for new messages and emails, I saw a weather prognosis for the day of 35...