The leader was a Palomino stallion.
His gold coat and light cream mane and tail were the result of thousands of years in the Middle East. Queen Isabella in the 1500s kept 100 Palominos for the nobility to ride. She sent a Palomino stallion and five mares to the New World.
Spanish conquistador Juan de Palomino received a Palomino horse as a gift from Cortez. The yearlings that resulted after mating were the same golden color and temperament They could run like the wind. All were spirited and high strung.
There are depictions in ancient art and literature that show Palominos existed in Greece, Rome, Persia, and Mongolia. This horse was considered the Golden Horse and the sands that surrounded it meant its appearance would blend in.
The quintessential color of the Palomino was similar to a shiny gold coin when the heat of the desert reflected off its loins.
And thus the dream began with all the horses galloping toward me. Could the leader’s name be Collumbua?
Furious in their pursuit, manes blowing in the January winds. Faster they came leaving dust in their wake. Faster now and how could it be the horses were moving so fast? Why? And what were they running to or for or from? How was Collumbua leading them to what destination? Surely, not to wound me in any way.
I had to get out of their way. But how? Maybe a dozen horses, but without any whispers. Just dust in the twilight. Just fear in the dream.
The apple I was eating fell from my mouth, but its taste remained so sweet. I wondered if those horses, galloping, would like an apple? Would eating the apples slow them down? Where would I get the apples?
Then the colors arrived. Aquamarine and azure. Periwinkle and puce. What did the colors suggest? Across the horizon and beyond. Floating near and then floating away. Like a silk ribbon in the breeze, fluttering. Then. Gone.
The singular confusion of my dream brought into focus the starlight and the Milky Way, far distant, but ever present. Just like those galloping horses. Into focus. Surely that light would give me a chance to get away and avoid the thunder of their hoofs.
They were getting closer. Faster now as their hoofs hammered the ground. The dream would end as they always do, but what did it mean?
Now I was sweating with dreaded anticipation. I did not want a herd decimating me into oblivion. Maybe they would be led just to my right or to my left and pass me completely. Maybe Collumbua knew by instinct to change course as to avoid me? Well, that made me wonder if he even saw me. Maybe I could become invisible and thus safe?
Yes, that is the answer.
I could evaporate, not be in this scene at all. After all, I was just a spirit so it made sense to fly away like a tiny bird whose song had ended.
And that is precisely what happened. I was no longer there. I was just a floating feather. I would be free. No longer doubts, or fears. No more dreams of galloping Palominos coming to destroy.
I was free. Free at last.