You know, dreams are funny thing. I have always thought this.

Some nights you do not remember any of them. Some nights you wish you did not have any, but you can not shake the memory for the life of you. Some dreams are even repeat players. Then there are the nights where you have such vivid and clear and lovely dreams that the images and feelings stick with you for more than just the day, but for what feels like a lifetime. You could retell, with exacting clarity, every moment of that dream over and over. God help the person that really dislikes to hear about dreams. I seem to find myself compelled to tell those people all about my dreams.

I have had two of those dreams in as many weeks.

The first was not this past Monday, but the Monday before.

In this dream I was riding Lito in a little arena by a little white house with peeling and chipping paint out in the country. Set off a little ways by a small, quiet country road with little traffic. The rest of the property was cross fenced with rusty barbed wire and crooked wooden posts into little pastures full of grass. All of this was surrounded by other, similar parcels.

The house had a green and white striped, mildew stained awning over what I guess what the kitchen window and a little covered porch that led to the front door. The front door had a big square window with a curtain hanging from the inside. Next to the door on the porch, crookedly sat one of those rusty, metal chairs. Part way facing the road and part way facing down the two steps off the porch and to the arena.

There I was was with my Lito, riding in that little arena. It was day time, but I remember there were arena lights that could be used for night rides. And we were not alone. There were a handful of other riders with us. All doing our own thing, as I was. The curious thing about it was, I do not think I knew any of them. Maybe it was that they were not important to what was between us. Between me and Lito.

I did seem to know, in some form or another, a man that was standing, leaning on the arena fence by the road. The manner of our connection I knew not, but when we trotted down that long side of the arena where he was near the end of my ride, we smiled at each other. Seemingly knowing something, the same thing.

I know what I knew. It was Lito and the ride was magical. We were totally in tune. That is the only way I can describe it. He was forward, but not too. He was just there. My thoughts were his and his were mine. It was our own little world out there in that little country arena and we just were. It felt like a dance I have yet to really know. Focusing and working on nothing, just riding.

That is when I woke up, as I trotted past the man. I awoke knowing, somehow, that feeling was going to come true soon. Part of me wanted to cling to the sleep to try and get back to the dream (it is truly a shame that is not a thing) and the other part of me wanted to play hooky from work and go ride. And alright, I admit, there was a third part of me who wonders who the man was. Strange to have that strong of a feeling and it had me in a daze for days.

I had another of those dreams last night. It is actually one I think I have had before and not all that long ago.

I was in a place I have never been in real life. I want to say that it was not Texas, but I do not want to admit that. It felt like a foothills region if not even mountainous. The air was crisp, the grass was very green, and the trees felt like they looked like Aspen trees, but I do not think they were. It was easy to visualize, standing and looking off the porch in the back, snow being there.

The building was somewhat of a log cabin style and there was an attached side building or room and the door out front was open. There was at least one other person with me, but again, I do not know who. The building was situated on the top of a little hill that likely went down to a little creek on the back side, but it was not a very steep hill. It was more of a gently sloping hill in most places.

I do not really know what was on either side of this building, but I knew there had to be a barn close by because as I entered this side room, I realized it was a tack room. And rather oddly, an empty tack room with a full wall covered in saddle racks. It was dark, but it was warm, cozy, comfortable, and full of color. It was then that the feeling began. I told somebody with a silly, childlike grin on my face that I had to put my tack in there. As only a horse girl would.

We continued through the tack room and past an unknown hallway, out the back door to the aforementioned porch looking down the hill where the truck and trailer full of horses was parked in the driveway that circled around the back. I know Lito was in there.

I looked around me, standing there on the porch. At the seating arrangement around me and down to the green grass and trees. And then to my left at the lower level deck and chairs down the stairs. I was hit with the feeling from before while I was in the tack room that this place, wherever it was, would be like home to me, if not my actual home one day. For as different as it was from the farm, it felt like the farm.

That was when I woke up. Dreams, man, they are an odd thing. I think I need another cup of coffee.

Have you ever had dreams like that? What do dreams mean to you? Tell me! My family hates hearing about my dreams. I just had to share.

Walk in love, dear readers!