Dreaming dreams …

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In the words of Walt Disney, that great bringer-to-life-of-dreams, ‘The way to get started is to quit talking and begin doing.’

When I was a little girl, I had a horse. It was a very special horse, so special in fact that I was the only one who could see it. And I was the only one who knew about the secret place behind the settee where my invisible horse lived. As I got older, my hankerings for a more substantial horse grew. Why should living in a two bedroom council house be an obstacle? After all, there was a shed where it could sleep. And who needed a field? I’d take it for walks every day. My parents didn’t share my vision. Apparently, it’s not just a question of space where horses are concerned. Finances come into the equation, and I didn’t receive enough pocket money to overcome that particular hurdle. So, until I was eleven, I had to make do with dreaming about horses. Reading about horses. Writing stories about horses (one in particular, a beautiful Palomino called Trixie). And then it happened. No, I didn’t get a horse, but what happened was almost as good. I got a course of ten riding lessons for my birthday. Which was when I discovered a bit of a problem that not even my creative thinking could overcome. I wasn’t very good at riding. I fell off when the horse (Henry) was standing still. That happened more than once. It happened quite a lot, actually. Maybe it’s not much of a surprise then, that by the time I was thirteen, I’d stopped dreaming about horses. Stopped reading about horses. Stopped writing about horses. But what I didn’t do was stop reading. And I didn’t stop writing. And I never stopped dreaming. And whilst some dreams are definitely made for dreaming, others are meant for achieving. And that’s what I intend to do. I’m with you, Walt.

 A horsey dream to make you smile … (Well, it made me smile).

 

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