Odin, My Dream Horse

The walls were going to drop and the gates would be sealed. I had to escape. I had to.

The landscape was dead and pocked with the glaring reality of the world as we know it coming to a horrible end: debris, shattered windows, empty streets, a cold wind. Take all the apocalyptic movies you've seen, put them together, and there you have it.

Except, I had to get to the other side before the walls dropped and the gates sealed. Odin carried me, and bore his task with gallantry and pride. It was just me and Odin, Odin and I, running for our lives.

And, we made it to that other side.

What a wonderful dream. Why my brain produced a sorry B-movie synopsis, I'll never know, but its point drove home anyway. You see, in the dream, Odin and I were so in sync that we were that proverbial "One." A light touch on his side or his neck would turn him, if it was necessary at all. And, most the time it wasn't. He would just go where I looked.

That was the message of the dream. Once awake, I thought about it and chastised my mind for dreaming such a fantasy. I mean, realistically, thinking that a horse, a huge, 1,600 pound animal with a mind of its own, would   be so Hollywood heroic is a recipe for disaster. Realistically, I know that coming off this horse would mean a major splat with broken bones and a dented skull. Realistically, if I just fell off of his almost 6 foot height it would probably net about the same amount of injury.

Man, it sucks getting old... and realistic. The more I thought about it, the more it sucked.


Odin is in tune and responsive to me. The other day, I was standing next to him brushing away while he drank when he spooked, spun and took off. One moment, I was brushing his back, and the next moment I was standing next to the water tub with the brush held up and ready for the next stroke - but no horse. I didn't feel a thing. When he saw I didn't react, he walked back and literally stood back under my still-raised hand. He returned to drinking his water, and I returned to brushing him.

I touch him with finger tips, he moves. I lay a hand on him, all four feet stop moving. He points with his nose where he wants an itch, and I point where I want a foot to go. I am constantly amazed by how we communicate with each other.

And that, that which happens with my two feet on the ground, does translate into what happens when I'm on his back.

Last weekend, Jennifer rode him for an hour. She did great with Odin. She walked him until he completely relaxed, then worked him at a trot. I had mentioned a few things I wanted to work on, but left her alone while she rode. (If you recall, the last time she rode Odin, he bucked her off, and she got right back on again.) She's got "good hands" that I appreciate - and so does Odin. But, I didn't ride him after she was done. We ended the session on a good note, and I left it at that.

I saddled and rode today instead. And Odin amazed me. I wanted to ride the fence line to check for spots where it might be grounding out, and that's just what we did. My mind was still a-glow from that fanciful dream, and he responded to me exactly the way he did in that stupid dream. A slight leg against his side and he'd turn. When I wanted a sharp turn, I put a leg against his side and added a rein against his neck. Only once did I have to add a direct rein. A lift of the reins and he'd move off. I'd push my feet forward and he'd stop.

All I could think was, "Who trained this horse?"

I did!

And sometimes, just sometimes, dreams aren't far from reality.