Moonbeams and Moondreams

Today is one of those days where I'd rather be golfing. It is sunny and clear, the only clouds in the sky are mare's tails high up there, little white whispy things. It is in the 50s and the trees are still changing and the air is so crisp and full of the sounds of birds. Something is blooming
nearby... it smells like winter daphne on the breeze but it is months too early for that.

Its been clear for the past few days and promises to be so for the rest of the week. I think I'll bring the telescope outside and look at the moon tonight. It is full, or near full, and Mars was twinkling so red near it last night. God, it was beautiful, especially walking under the ginkgo trees, knowing their golden leaves will all fall in a single night any day now.

I had two very interesting and vivid dreams the past couple of nights:

In the first I was scaling a cliff. It was a limestone cliff, very friable, very much like one I had scaled years ago, back in Colorado.
The finger- and toe- holds kept crumbling, and I should have stopped and made my way back down, but I didn't.
I wanted to get to the top.
I was getting very tired and wishing for a chance to rest when I got to this ledge. I kept trying, but I couldn't get a good grip to pull myself up. It just kept breaking and crumbling away in my fingers, and I was terrified I would fall.
And Nick was suddenly there somehow.
He said, "Give me your hand,"
And I said, "No, I'm afraid we'll both fall."
"Give me your hand," he said. "Trust me."
And so I did. He pulled me up on the ledge and I hugged him and laughed, giddy with relief..
And then he put his arms around me and stepped off the edge. But we only fell for a few second and then we were soaring... and then we were in space, floating in the darkness. Out there with the stars. They were so achingly beautiful, the galaxies and the nebulae, and he named them all for me... I could see them and feel them with my whole body. I could feel the starlight tickling my skin. I felt so alive!
And suddenly I was 25 and skydiving again, hamming it up, loving the floating/falling feeling, so exciting, so primal, and knowing I was safe because Nick had packed my parachute.
Only then he transformed into a great wounded dragon that soared past me into the vast darkness of space, diving toward the sun.


My second dream was about Cyn, sweet submissive Cyn. After I woke up from it I went to my computer and wrote down, then emailed it to her:

Cyn,
Last night I dreamed you were a horse.
A beautiful arabian, maybe 13 hands, dark dappled grey, with black fetlocks.
And you loved to run. Poetry in motion, really, like most arabs.
You had a reputation for being unridable, despite the fact that every time someone came to your paddock you would trot up and put your muzzle in their hands and whuffle.
Some people tried to tried you bareback, but you shrugged them off.
Others tried saddle and bridle, but you always shied and somehow unseated them.
Some tied you to a post and whipped you until your head hung and your muscles twitched under that gorgeous dappled hide, and they'd mount, and they'd ride for a while, but as soon as they were confident they'd mastered you, they'd end up on their backs, staring at the sky.

But one man put you on a longe line, and he ran you and ran you, snapping a whip behind you, every once in a while letting you feel its sting, to remind you why you were running.
And you ran. And ran, and ran, but you ran in circles around this man, and he became the center of the universe that was your paddock.
He ran you to the point of exhaustion: there was foam in your mouth and your hide was so dark with sweat it looked black.
And he tied you to the post and curried you, and whispered to you, and checked your hooves and braided your mane, and you stood there, heaving and huffing, your ears twitching, until he was finished.
And then he brought the saddle and harness.
And the harness had blinders, and the bit was a cruel double bit.
And the saddle was a berber saddle. Heavy and ornamented and high-pommelled.
He walked you around the paddock a few times, and then tied you to the post and mounted.
You stood there, trembling, and when your muscles gathered, he curbed you viciously and laid his crop down on your withers. He was having none of that nonsense from you.

And he did that for days. Days. He mounted you, but he kept you tied. He did not let you run. And one day, one day he did not tie you to that post, he mounted, and he cropped you, and then he tugged that cruel bit and guided you out of the paddock and into the field and you ran, Cyn, you stretched out and ran for the joy of it, and he laid his crop down on you to urge you on and it was so beautiful to see you in motion, to see you as you were meant to be.

I hope it is a true-dream.
I hope it comes true for you.
I hope you find the man to master you.
Until then, I'll keep dreaming for you.