Time steps at a port

Last night I dreamt... That I was visiting an old port town, with three and four storey buildings teetering around a harbour, and cliffs rising up steeply on all sides. It was picturesque and tumbledown all at once.

I went to one of those visitor's centres that old towns often have. In there I was transported back to various moments in the town's history, chief among which was a kind of Roman-era time. The harbour was packed with boats, and dozens of people were going about their business on the quayside. There was some kind of money-lender in one building, high-up in a window, and he had a slave girl working for him. She stole a large gold coin and hid it behind a piece of furniture, but he and I both saw her do it.

Then the dream flicked to a fierce battle, fought on the cliffs around the town. Time blended between me, today, climbing the cliffs, and the battle that had been fought there.

And then the dream flicked to the town flooding - but an old car-crazy friend of mine was driving up the road in a classic Mini, racing away from the flood water. It caught him, but he didn't seem phased. The dream ended with a vision of him sitting in this cream-coloured Mini, smiling to himself as the water swept him along.