Part 7;
Angel My Horse
The Adult…….the Room, Ecuador
June 22, 2020
Last night was a very difficult one, she wondered how she would get through it and what would come of the pain and discomfort felt. It began in the afternoon, or maybe even earlier. She just could not get comfort throughout the day, with the exception of her perfect moment laying in the hammock under the warm sun. Being alone on the property, was very peaceful and she appreciates having the place to herself, but still was restless, uneasy. Maybe because it was the morning after the solstice and then of course there was the eclipse on Friday, but she expected to have a vision or dream based on how uncomfortable she was in her body.
She is at once comforted and frustrated by the fact there is no internet still, has not been available for a few days now. A feeling as though she is missing something, but probably not. This frustrates her a bit knowing no one has noticed and at the same time that someone is concerned because they can’t reach her. So as she turned in last night, early, because she felt the need to just lay quietly, she was worried. It was not that she felt herself having a panic attack, but did the breathing exercises anyway so she could relax and hopefully fall asleep.
At one point she found herself jolting awake while at the same time feeling as though she would pass out. She must have been holding her breath, but was unaware of doing so. Trying to fall asleep once more was difficult, still so uncomfortable in her body, her chest painful, the tingling sensation going into her left arm. It is difficult not to think heart attack in these moments, but she fought those concerns. Instead finding herself saying do not think about dying, instead think about living and living with joy, love and an adventurous spirit. This seemed to work as the next thing she knew she was waking from a dream that she would rather not have had.
The only thing she really remembers about the dream were all the spiders. Many small white or ivory almost translucent spiders all on top of each other. Some had red outlining their bodies, while others were blue. So it seemed significant, these colors which showed themselves more than once in past dreams and visions over the years. It was not a comfortable image to find herself waking up to even though it was non threatening.
Checking the time, she saw it was 1:30am and Mali was still outside, so she got up to let her in. Crawling back into bed, she once more felt as though she would not make it through the night. Over and over she would repeat the ideas of a happy life, a carefree life, joy and being happy, being loved, accepting love. At last falling once more into a deep sleep and having a long involved dream. The story she found herself in seemed to go off in more than one direction, but there was an underlying current to the flow of it which became the most important message. The past melding into the future.
Even while she was dreaming, she felt confused, yet understood what was happening was important, so when she woke, it surprised her to find she was not full of joy and love remembering all that took place. The tightness in her chest was not gone and she felt uneasy still, as though she had just lost something of great value. It was not until she began to write the dream as a story in her mind that the tears finally came, and the tightness in her chest eased from the release of emotion.
She felt claustrophobic, the heat from the sun oppressive and she had to give up her time spent in the hammock this afternoon, it was not the perfect moment usually felt at this time of day. Instead she had a shower, washing away the feelings associated with the previous nights discomforts and allowed the beauty of the story to return to her.
At first the dream took place at some kind of special event. I felt like I was with a school and we were preparing for our role in a parade or something similar. It was a festive atmosphere, but we were also nervous. It seemed to me there was a band involved, as young adults practised on their instruments. There was a new teacher participating and there was excitement about him because the women and girls all found him very attractive. I had not yet met him, so was curious, hoping to catch a glimpse. I was insecure, so did not intend on meeting him.
When at last he came around the corner, walking towards me and the two women I was talking with, it was difficult not to react, he was indeed very handsome. I remember he had a moustache, his hair was light brown and pulled back so it looked short. Suddenly in my mind, there was information that he would be riding a horse. I am not sure where that came from, but I seemed to know that one of us would be chosen to ride the horse with him. Although one hopes to be noticed and picked for such a splendid opportunity, I certainly did not expect it would be me. But a girl can dream.
The next thing I remember I was on the horse with this man, at first riding in front of him. This eased my mind because I felt I would be unsure of where to put my arms, my hands if I was behind him. Being in front eliminated the difficulty of choosing. I have always felt very small and uncomfortable around such good looking people, men or women, as I find myself so plain and ordinary. I don’t know where we were headed, but the parade, the band, the people were no longer present, we were alone. My discomfort began to feel like comfort as we talked, the horse leading us to a destination unknown.
I remember standing on the road, admiring the view of the city (I know not which one) and then he kissed me, something so unexpected, I felt very nervous. It has been years since anyone kissed me on the mouth with passion and desire, I felt self conscious and shy.
Then I remember riding behind him, admiring his hair which was hanging loosely to his shoulders. This made me think of my father, the color of his hair looking dark in the fading light, the soft waves of gentle curls reminding me of a man not seen for most of my life. We had been talking about Cuba because this was his home when he was a child. He was explaining how they were forced to leave when he was about 5 years old, in 1961. He remembered having the opportunity to see a famous movie with an actor he admired once he got to North America. Now, as we talked I began to see the resemblance he bore to my father and was captivated by him. I suppose this was why I was confused, I began to wonder if I was indeed speaking with my father, the likeness seemed to grow stronger the more time we spent together. Perhaps the memory of just such a moment in my childhood was being relived with someone new creating a similar story based on old thoughts and ideas. Is this not what we look for when we meet the person we hope to spend many years with?
The next thing I remember was running on the beach laughing, expecting to be tackled by him at any second. I was so happy, it amazed me. I felt love, joy, happiness, the complete beautiful package. And this was how I woke up.
When the tears began to flow this afternoon at last, she saw the importance of this man in her life. She saw the importance of remembering Angel, her childhood horse. The idea her father rode a horse with her (not Angel as she was too young) together when she was a child, was a memory inspiring this dream she believes. That she rode in front of him so he could protect her and keep her safe in his loving embrace, suddenly the most important thing in her world. How could she forget such beautiful moments? But then she knows the answer…..
The beauty of her time spent enjoying the ride disappeared on the Sunday afternoon she was brought to the ranch outside of Calgary to be placed on the gigantic stallion known for bucking everyone who sat on him. She was just 5 years old, placed on this horse so big she could not get her legs over his back. Screaming as he immediately began to buck, hanging onto his mane for dear life as the audience laughed at her extreme fear. It was in those moments, the love for Angel, for her father and their time together was fragmented and lost.
To meet this man, whom she does hope will come into her life, she sees the value in his bearing resemblance to her father, as he teaches her how to love once more. As she looks into his face, remembering the man who gave her so much love, the beginning is brought to the end, the middle packed safely into the room in her mind once more. It is no longer necessary to remember the tragedies with love staring her in the face. At once she has her father back, the memories of him at least, and she has the love of someone who knows and understands.
Journal Entries
August 8, 2002,
Vision about Angel
I had another image come to me this morning as I was waking up, again in black and white.
A small child of about one year was in someone’s arms, although I’m not sure who it was because the horses head was hiding his face. The child was petting the horses head. The man holding her handed her an apple to feed to the horse, something giving her great pleasure. I don’t think the horse was that old, perhaps a yearling. My surrogate mother was standing beside us as I reached over to feed an apple to this horse who’s name was Angelina, Angel for short.
I am aware I am looking at myself as a young girl, but because of all the trauma I see myself as separate. I’m not sure if that will make sense to most people, but there is a disconnect—the emotions tied to the moment were lost. I can sense now though I was happy then, there was much goodness in my world and I was content.
August 10, 2002,
Angel
This morning the black and white images came again. The first one was the only clear image and it was once again the little girl from the other day. This time she looked a bit older. She was standing in front of her horse and the horse was bending its head down to touch her hand.
I believe I was seeing myself as a young girl feeding my horse, Angel. The visions I have like this are consistent: the location, the girl, and the horse. There is no variation in their looks. It is like watching a home movie.
December 18, 2002
When I had this dream I remember thinking this could just not be possible. How strong would a man need to be to accomplish this? Whether it was possible or not its impact at the sight of Angel dying in this way was extraordinarily emotional and difficult to comprehend.
It was a sunny warm day like the beginning of summer. Everything was green and fresh, a truly beautiful day. I was in the yard with Angel when I saw a man approaching. He came up to her and took her by the legs, hog-tying her like the cowboys do to cattle in the rodeo. I am unsure of where I was when I was watching this happen, but I seemed unable to stop him. It was as if I was watching through my eyes, so I believe it was a memory.
I watched in horror as he picked her up with her legs tied and threw her down on the ground, breaking her neck. She died as I helplessly watched. I was about two years old. It seemed as if I was watching it simultaneously as a young child, but also as an older version of myself, so I understood what was happening. I cried out, “What did you do?!” but it was too late. As this young child I felt numb knowing something was very wrong with my horse but not capable of understanding who this man was and why he did this to my beautiful pony.
When I added this entry to my book I had to find out if it was possible to break a horse’s neck in this manner. I searched the internet until I found some footage and I watched as a rodeo horse broke its own neck while trying to buck its rider. It bucked so hard it fell on its side landing hard and fast enough to break its own neck. It was horrible to watch but it gave me insight to the possibility that if an animal is thrown correctly it could indeed happen.
This dream brought back a memory from my childhood after being brought to live in Calgary. I would have been about five years old, maybe turning six. I was excited that day because we were taking a drive to a ranch in the country, leaving one Sunday afternoon after church.
I don’t have much recollection about the day or where we went, just that it was outside the city. When we got there I was happy to see they had horses saddled up and it seemed we were possibly going for a ride. I remember standing near a stallion. It was so big and I was afraid of it because of his great size. A man I did not know, who I believe owned the ranch we were visiting, lifted me up and put me into the saddle.
It was such a cruel thing to do to me, or for that matter to anyone, no matter their age. This horse was known to buck its riders, had not yet been fully broken, and as soon as I was in the saddle it began to buck. I hung on for dear life, terrified. The ground seemed so far away and no one was making any attempt to rescue me. In fact, I was further agitated because I saw Duncan, Helen and the others were all standing there laughing as they watched. This was funny to them, watching my fear, struggling to hang on, my short legs barely able to fit over his back. I have no idea how long they left me on that horse, but it seemed an eternity. I have been afraid to ride a horse ever since, despite how much I love them and wish to ride.