Wednesday, June 24, 2015
You Don't Get to Choose
I had a dream last night. Yeah, yeah… those of you who know me know I dream all the time, so I visualize you all right now rolling your eyes, saying, “what’s the big deal?” The big deal is the way this dream felt. It’s hard to describe, but it’s like that feeling you get sometimes where your subconscious is screaming at you, “pay attention, this is important!” So, that’s what I’m trying to do, pay attention because this dream feels extremely important.
My dream, as with most of my dreams over the past year, starred Emi (short for Exotic Man of my Imagination) as he climbed upon the back of a tall, white thoroughbred in the middle of a dark, gloomy, wooded area. Everything was outlined in silver moonlight, making the majestic white coat of the horse practically glow. While she was white, her mane and tail were pitch black. Emi’s beautiful brown eyes missed nothing. He saw every motion of every creeping thing in the woods, yet he didn’t react to his surroundings, keeping his temperament in a calm, collected, controlled state. He was dressed in a pair of cargo pants, a white buttoned shirt with rolled sleeves, and brown boots. Not cowboy boots, more like military or the hiking kind.
Emi climbed onto the back of the horse, and then looked down at something he wore on his wrist. It wasn’t a watch, but perhaps a smartphone like a watch. I’m not sure, but whatever it was, I got the sense it was what prompted his urgency to get somewhere. He tightened his grip on the reins and gave the mare a swift kick in the side.
She didn’t move.
He kicked her again, snapped the reins, but the mare still refused to budge.
Emi jumped down from the horse, pulled a pistol from his side holster and pointed it right at the horse’s head. The mare still didn’t move. She just stood there, her big eyes unblinking, staring back at him. He flipped the safety of the gun with his thumb as he stared down the sight aimed right between the horses eyes. His index finger rested on the side of the trigger, itching to move into place to take the shot.
There was something in the horse’s eyes, a sadness, a deepness, a mystery that caught Emi’s attention. A knowing feeling washed over him. In that moment he knew the horse wanted him to pull the trigger, to end her sadness, to release her from her pain. She knew he was strong enough to do it. He knew what she wanted, and why. I, the dreamer, don’t even know why. But Emi did, and he wouldn’t do it.
Emi sighed. Flipped the safety back with his thumb and holstered his pistol. He was angry, yet filled with relief at the same time. He pointed to the horse and said to her in a loud voice, not yelling, but one filled with all authority and command, “You do not get to choose.”
The horse lowered her head. A small trickle of silver tears spilled from her eyes. Emi mounted her once again. This time when he tightened the reins and gave her a swift kick in the side, she moved. Together, in rhythm, they galloped off into the dark wood toward where Emi needed to go. Even as the dreamer, I have no idea where it was he needed to be, only that there was an urgency for him to get there.
I woke with such a sense of compassion, connection, and confusion. I know this dream means something, but I can’t see it. Please don’t send me any ‘interpretations’ you might have, because I don’t want them to interfere. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a dream this intense, this detailed, this …I don’t know how to explain the overwhelming sensation. I don’t know what it means, I only know it feels important. If I’m meant to know, I will eventually discover it. Perhaps I just need to eat something because I also feel like I’m starving.
Till next time,
~The Weird Dreamer