After we went to Paris I returned home and dreamed about Paris consistently for over a month. It would pop into my dream every night. The trip was great, and the unconscious imprint was substantial. It was 21 nights of consecutively dreaming about Paris.
"...In every other great city the forgotten child becomes the deboshed man, and whereas nearly everywhere the child left to his own devices becomes rootless and immersed in open vice which destroys in him all conscience and sense of probity, the Paris urchin, we insist, however footloose and disreputable he may appear on the surface, remains in himself almost unspoiled. It is a magnificent phenomenon, splendidly manifest in the honesty of our popular revolutions, a kind of incorruptibility born of the instinct that resides in the air of Paris like salt in the waters of the ocean. To breathe Paris is to preserve one's soul." Hugo, Victor. Les Misérables. Paris: Folio Press, 1862.
I could have easily left the quote at "To breathe Paris is to preserve one's soul", but that would be like throwing sand in Hugo's eyes, and contrary to the spirit of Paris.