I was riding bareback on a beautiful stallion down a hillside through what seemed like very familiar brush. The brush was green and dense; yet my horse was swift and we soon passed through. In the clearing ahead I saw a rather large pond. My horse galloped around it, and I soon lost interest in the pond. I noticed to my right an old house; it was ugly and I felt resentment towards it. It had no door, and it had no walk leading to it. The house just sort of sat there, all by itself. Instead of taking me to the house, the horse quickly cantered to another one. This one was nice-looking and I was more interested in it than the other house.
Suddenly, there was a boy standing in front of me and I was no longer on the horse. I knew the boy. He was (and still is) one of my best friends back in Connecticut. The house behind him was gone, and dense, dark woods had taken its place. I moved to greet my friend, but he moved to my right and simply stood still.
© Copyright 2002 by Robert J. R. Rockwood. All rights reserved.