Horsies

Dreamed I was walking down a path with a man I used to work for (eons ago). We were in rural-ass Maine but also along the coast.

There had just been a colossal rainstorm but the sky was clearing. All the trees, grass and earth were soaked.—puddles everywhere. Ed and I approached a large corrugated tin structure the size of a small airplane hangar. Out front was a giant sculpture of running horses but it was just their heads and backs—the full torso and legs hadn’t been carved out yet. From what material was this massive work being created? Given that it was outdoors, in the open, I’d have guessed stone. 

Nope, as we got closer it became clear that it was made from terra cotta. HOW had it survived the recent deluge. It hadn’t been fired yet (owing to not being completed) so why didn’t the wet weather dissolve the horses into a big mucky orange-ish lake?

Dunno. The charging stallions only had a sheen as though they were sweating from running so hard.

My old coworker and I were catching up on each other’s lives—when was his girlfriend moving in? Had my friend and fellow nf2-er moved in with me yet? Were they meeting us (the small plane hangar had turned out to be a tavern)?

The thing that sticks with me most about the dream is that massive sculpture of running horses. Seems odd that I’m dreaming of giant terra cotta steeds.

Were they part of Qin Shi Huang's terra cotta army? Nope, my dream beasties were much larger.
Clay Kelpies maybe? Nope, they weren’t that big.

As a young kiddle, living in rural northern New Jersey, simply everyone was wild about horsies. We were living at a prep school where all the students had horseback riding lessons as part of gym class. Jacky and JFK’s children learned to ride there. Of course horses were a big fucking deal!

Did I ride? Nope. My mother forbade it. As a young girl growing up in the Italian ghetto of 1930s New Haven, she’d had a rare opportunity to ride. Lucy fell off and was dragged along the ground a ways before being rescued. She survived, obvs, but had a steel plate in her head and a rod in her right forearm as a result. She subsequently had an enormous fear of the animals.

Skitter—cat not horse

Despite the fact that mia madre was most def NOT a fan of yurs truly, I was not allowed to even go near the stables. Problem—one of my little pals was the daughter of the stable master and riding instructor. She was ALL about horses and wanted me to ride too. We snuck out one though. Clair somehow got me on board her pony (we were five years old—HOW did we do this?!) and led us on a gentle canter. I was scared shitless—I was riding bareback (this was NOT like riding the merry-go-round ponies!) AND it was my first ever ride. Shockingly, I didn’t fall off.

You’d think, after this early success, that I’d grow up to be a total equestrian. Ah….no.

First: I am my own nastiest critic. At five years of age, I knew that my form was embarrassingly bad. Sure, it was my first time but still…without regular access, lessons and parental approval, I wasn’t going anywhere.

Second: Lucy’s NO was steel clad and I was too young to be a rebel rebel. Plus, my mother’s fear had become my own.

Third: The following year we moved to Providence, Rhode Island—a big city compared to Peapack/Gladstone, New Jersey. There weren’t any friendly stables with helpful, encouraging, mother-defying six year olds just around the corner.

By the time I was old enough to rebel and pay for my own damn riding lessons, pony fever had passed. Only rich kids got horses and riding lessons.

So then, WHY am I dreaming about terra cotta horsies? Why is Ed in my dream? Why am I thinking about being five again? Arguably, that was my peak year as a human on this benighted planet.

//shrugs// Got me hangin’.