Dreams can come true

I don't know if it's a really good idea for all dreams to come true. That familiar warning that we may just get what we ask for sometimes applies when it comes to dreams. After all, my mother's dream a couple of weeks ago concerned her a bit while she was having a few ups and downs with her congestive heart disease.

The plot was simple. I had called her and told her to expect two men dressed in black who would come knocking at her door.

"They're coming to take your blood," I allegedly told her. Mother swears the dream was so realistic that her door was unlocked in the morning suggesting that someone had, indeed, come to do something. I learned about this "invasion?" early the next morning when I received a simple message on my computer Call Wave.

"Call me," she said, emphatically. Mother felt the urgent need to check on whether I had really called her in the night with the news of the visiting blood hunters. Since then, her doctors have heard about the dream and have insisted to her that most of the blood thieves wear white coats.

After hearing her recount the dream several times during the past couple of weeks, I was able to assure her this weekend that she's not alone in conjuring up some strange tales during the night. My dream Friday night involved travel. Apparently, I was going somewhere with my mother, and she had ordered the rental car. As we were waiting for it to arrive, I learned that our rental was going to cost $3,200.

At first, I figured it must be the super deluxe grand poopah of all rental cars, complete with chauffeur. I was excited, but then reality took over, and I told my mother we did not need a $3,200 rental car. I don't know how we got to wherever we were going. Maybe it was via Quest Aircraft's new Kodiak cargo plane because I was flying it during last night's dream.

The CEO had told me to take it for the day and bring it back in the late afternoon. I flew it every place imaginable and came back earlier than expected. So, he insisted that I fly it around for a while longer. So, I did. Before taking it back to their manufacturing building, I needed to take my horse trailer home, so I parked the plane next to the horse trailer and ran off for a potty stop. When I returned, both the plane and my horse trailer had disappeared from the parking area.

I awakened this morning in the midst of frantically trying to find out what had happened to that plane. I guess I'll never know, and I guess my dream stems from the real fact that I haven't seen the plane flying high up in the air above our farm since the day it ran into the geese. This was NOT a dream. The plane did run into a flock of geese just above the school district bus shop while two employees were standing outside talking.

Mortally wounded geese started dropping from the sky, as the Kodiak landed safely and went to the shop for repairs. Paul Schaller, the CEO, told me they were ducks, but my sources still insist they were geese because they thought for a second about taking them home to eat. Instead, they threw them in the burn pile.

So, considering these nocturnal and full daylight events, sometimes there's a thin line between reality and dreams. And, sometimes dreams are scenarios we consciously conjure up in our awakened minds. One of my personally crafted dreams came true this weekend, thanks to family, friends, a wonderful horse and a talented trainer named Monty.

My dream to drive our beloved horse Casey aka Baby Horse (Bill's moniker) is now a pleasant memory etched in my mind forever. This dream evolved two years ago when the CarLaw Clydesdale owners of Cranbrook, British Columbia, offered to let me ride their 8-horse hitch in the Idaho Draft Horse Show, which I was covering for a story in Sandpoint Magazine.

The magic of the day sprouted an immediate passion to have my own horse and cart. At the sale after the show, I bought some harness and, as mentioned before, hoped to buy a cart. That fell short when I learned that I'd picked out a pony cart. So, the dream was deferred a bit, especially after Casey took on a gimp while I practiced driving him around the fields that fall with the harness.

Two years later, in our new, more rural setting, the dream revived itself. I bought a gorgeous Amish cart at this year's Draft Horse sale and started driving Casey around the pastures. Many readers of recent postings know that this weekend marked the turning point in this dream.

Today, I can announce that our Casey proved himself a true equine hero in the Tibbs arena yesterday as he willingly pulled first the tires, then the beat-up cart from Monty's training stable (complete with duct tape, no less). Never a glitch in any of these lead-ups to the main event.

"Go get the Amish cart," Monty said. Within ten minutes, my sisters and Monty had it hooked up. Within 12 minutes, my mother was walking through the arena door, marveling as Casey trotted happily around the arena with Monty and the cart behind. Then, it was taxi time. First, I climbed aboard. Monty handed me the reins.

"Think ahead . . . sharp turns ....whew, what a horse ! . . . think ahead . . . sharp turns, sharp turns . . . . hold your hands up . . . think ahead." Monty's continuous litany of advice settled in, and he didn't even offer to jump out of the cart. We walked. We trotted. We reversed. We whoa-ed and parked for the next passenger.

The mounting stool came to the arena and was placed behind the cart as we helped Mother aboard. In this case, as they glided around the arena, Monty couldn't get a word in edge-wise as Mother recounted some of her own cart-horse experiences. Casey was a pretty tired boy by the time he had pulled Laurie and Bill and then Laurie and Natalie around the arena. Barbara chose to give him a break and just watched.

When his driving debut had ended, Casey looked and acted like a star as all those humans gathered round to tend to his needs----a nice warm blanket, lots of hugs and pets and compliments, even a carrot and a peppermint.

The dream did not turn into a nightmare with shiny Amish kindling fueling hot flames toward the arena roof. The gelding performed and happily so. No men in black. No blood letting. No disappearing aircraft. And, especially exciting----no $3,200 rental fee.

Priceless.