There are horses. I don’t own the horses – I am an outsider.
It is a wet day. There are paddocks. They’re extremely muddy.
One I recognize as “What A Squaw’ a thoroughbred mare that I used to own.
She has a brown woolen rug on with gold piping. The rug is falling off.
I see a horse that I believe to be ‘Berle’s Best (another thoroughbred horse I used to own). He is galloping around the paddock freely.
All the horses are highly excited.
I realize that there is someone trying to catch What A Squaw.
The person is female, well dressed, in jodhpurs and boots.
She has blonde hair and pigtails.
She tries to catch the horse but it pulls away. She falls in the mud.
She is covered in it. She is very angry and frustrated. She’s screaming and she throws something at the horse.
I am standing with a group of people. The girl comes over to us.
I take the horses’ head collar off her and walk into the paddock.
I have the head collar behind my back. I approach the horses.
There is one horse that is nasty, causing trouble, agitating the other horses and kicking.
I ignore it. Quietly and gently I approach Whatta Squaw. I call her ‘Nina’.
She stands still. I pat her whilst talking to her and easily slip the head collar over her head. I walk back with her to the group of people. They are impressed. I comment that I used to own the horse.
The blonde haired female is seething and glaring at me.
The dream ends.