Calm dreams roll out of crashing waves

A relatively traumatic (self-imposed trauma) end to a beautiful weekend last night strangely enough had me dreaming some of the calmest dream-thoughts I have ever had: sitting at a white iron table sipping tea with lemon out of a glass with ice, in a tea house with doors open letting in mid day sunlight and breeze blowing translucent white curtains, flowers and delicateness, discussing the wonders of owning an eccentricities shop, somewhere in the Mediterranean.  I keep thinking that if I Google images of tea shops I'll find it.