It's a regular feature of my dreams. I'm travelling through imagined woods knowing that somewhere ahead lies a path. I need to take that path. Shady and inviting, it leads gently uphill. The going is good, most often sandy. Invariably I am riding, sometimes walking, occasionally cantering.
Inevitably I lose my way. It's inexplicable. One moment I headed for the path. Next moment I've turned away, distracted by something. In my dreams I don't end up in bad places. Simply I lose that path. It's one of those 'hidden in plain sight' features, so easy to lose or miss.
In other dreams I'm planning to get to that path. Sometimes I have a map, and every time the path is somewhere away towards the top-right. It's not far, and it's not secret. I need to ascend the scarp slope of a broad ridge not unlike the one south of my home, but greener and more cultivated. It seems as if the path is up there on a plateau.
A couple of nights ago I rode right up to the foot of that path. It seemed a little steeper than I was used to, surfaced with turf rather than sand, and bearing a few imprints of hooves. As usual it led between the great trees of a broad forest. I wasn't alone. Another ride bade me come with her. We were going to ride the path so that I could see where it led.
It was a peculiar dream, the sort that left me bright and cheerful in the morning. I'm not surprised. The previous day a new friend and I had been discussing music and dance and adventures with horses. At the time it felt as if I was being invited to leave behind pedestrian conceptions of life. Clearly that message has percolated down into my unconscious.
So, without further ado, I'll stop typing and get back to making music...