Someone told me once that it was incredibly boring to listen to peoples' dreams. He said it was like listening to a description of their acid trips.
I hope you , dear reader, do not feel this way.
Last night I dreamt I was in an English countryside. At some sort of racetrack. Very proper and English and full of tall hedges. It was beautiful.
A very toothily handsome and properly English fellow in a blue blazer and khaki pants invited me and another girl to go for a horseback ride.
I felt nervous because I am only familiar riding horses with Western type saddles, and I knew this would be an English-saddle ride. English saddles are typically far less comfortable, and the way in which you rein your horse is totally different.
Nervousness in dreams...I wonder what that signifies.
The three of us began to ride through this proper English garden. I was at the end of our line, and I watched the other two riders posting during a trot, as they should...
Then I saw the sky bridge. It looked like the wooden bridge you see in movies. Dilapidated and rickety and swinging in the air. Ending at the top of a very tall pine.
The two riders trotted properly to the top.
My horse and I followed.
And then we fell. My beautiful golden horse and I. We fell all the way to the ground with a sickening thump. I watched the hurt in the horse's large eyes. I felt no pain.
I knew, in my dream, that these were the last few moments for this animal.
I touched its nose gently and whispered words of comfort.
Then I woke up.