The Dream

My childhood dreams consisted of various versions of a life vastly improved by the presence of a dog and a horse. The horse obsession came first, but so soon after that came the dog wish, that I only remember the dreams as intertwined. My dream horse and dog often had human-like characteristics; we planned our days together, shared inside jokes, and always took care of each other. That probably says more about me than I should be comfortable sharing. Anyway, I am way older now and, by any measure, I have knocked the manifestation of that dream out of the park. Except, that — as this is the real world, not a dream world — it includes the decidedly not dreamy elements of hard work and constant responsibility. Sometimes, I almost forget the dream. Sometimes, the adult me takes up so much space, that the dream seems to have belonged to someone else.

Today was that kind of day. My spirit was tired or my body was or both and I found myself slugging through my barn chores like a robot. It was a nice day, perfect for a ride. I pretended not to see it. But Bruno saw it. So did Beamer. Before I could think myself out of it, I dropped a saddle on Beamer’s back and out we went, wandering through the trees and around the pasture, with Bruno trotting along side. Just like my dream.

Day 36

Writing about what sings to me from a life made full with animals.

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