Last night I dreamed that I was riding again. I was at Stonyhill, the barn I rode at near my parents' house for over ten years. But I was riding Willow, my favorite horse from TSH, my riding camp. I only remember one part of the lesson, and I don't know which of my many trainers was there telling me to warm up with a crossrail. Taking the turn at a trot, feeling so vividly all the mechanics of the movement. Muscle memory that is so deeply ingrained that I can recall it while dreaming. That horse was tall, around 17 hands, and even at the trot he just ate the ground in front of the jump. The warm up jump was always a combination of exciting and laughably small; it always went fast and was just fine. The faceless dream trainer then told me to take the jump again, this time just letting my horse ease into a canter around the turn if he wanted to. She raised the jump, it was now around 2'6" or 3'.
Trotting off, I took the turn and felt my horse's steps quicken in excitement. I felt the tension in my thighs as I followed his movement but tried to stay still enough not to spur him on. The transition from trot to canter was so smooth and controlled, that I knew all I had to do was wait. Oddly, when I looked ahead at the jump, it wasn't there. There was no bar across the two posts. Then I looked again and it was back. I felt my control slipping, my seat pushing my horse forward in anticipation as we got closer. The last two strides are like a black hole for me. I often hold my breath and, like the moment before a car crash, it seems the whole world is bearing down on the barrier in front of me. I have to try to hold onto a shred of consciousness in that moment, if I do, I can feel the rhythm and take the jump right. This happened in the dream last night. It was that pulsing moment where I was looking down at the base of the jump, heading for a chip. But I looked up and we took off, getting the distance just right. When that happens, it's not just about equitation or "doing it right" or how it looks. It is the best feeling I know. It feels like I am in perfect unison with a 2,000 pound animal that is carrying me as, for a few seconds, it flies.
I'm not sure what this dream was about, other than missing the horses. I think sometimes it is simply about getting to experience something that is gone from your life, like talking to someone you lost or visiting a place you've left.
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This posting reminds me of a story I read years ago. Taran is a pig-keepers assistant, in the Prydain Chronicles, and at one point he must acquire a terrifying and powerful object from three witches. He asks what he can bargain with, since he has nothing of value. The witches tell him he can sell them a memory of his, say a lovely summer's day. He finds another way, but later ponders their offer and realizes that to lose a memory in a deal would be the worst thing imaginable. Our memories are who we are. Cherish them my love.
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