The Washerwoman’s Genes

April 5, 2006

Dreams and Wind

Filed under: Story — by WWG @ 9:28 am

I dreamed I was riding Cornelius’s horse. We were in a barn, but a modern one, a spacious high-ceilinged room, blonde wood beams and dirt floor. I tried to turn him too quickly—no reins, just sudden body lean—and he jumped out from under me, saddle and all, and I dropped standing to the floor. The horse, fawn-colored, massive, turned in a circle and looked back at me, across the space. Then I was removing his saddle, leaning over, reaching under his belly. He had pissed all over the buckle and it was soaking, but I kept at it, my hands drenched with his pee.

Cornelius was watching head-on.

Although it is April now, it’s snowing, big flakes, fast billions of them, a squall, with gale force winds roaring, rocking trees.


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