The other night, I had a dream. I dreamed that a knobby-kneed, reddish brown, small skinny horse came and sat on my lap. The dream was very vivid; I could feel the horse's shaggy coat, and its bony limbs. I can't quite recapture the emotion associated with this dream, but I remember the sensation of its folded-under legs, evoking a feeling of the horse's vulnerability, and a desire to enfold it.
I thought no more about the dream until yesterday morning during mass, when it dawned on me that I had this dream shortly before coming across George lying in the field. And that George was very probably the color of the dream horse when he was a foal, as he is now dapple rose grey and likely had no grey markings on him at birth. I remember as I sat beside him as he lay there, what struck me most was how sweet his legs looked, folded under him, in a way I hardly ever see them.
The dream horse had seemed old in its frailty. But maybe it was a foal who had to grow up too fast and so became old before its time. Maybe it was George.
I wanted to ask George about this dream yesterday, but he was in a bad mood, and I didn't think it was the time. I'll ask him later.