Have you ever heard your pulse amplified through your pillow?
As I closed my eyes the other night, my final thought was of how my pulse sounded similar to the hoof beats of a galloping horse. I find horses to be beautiful, magnificent creatures, but you’ll never catch me riding one because, to me, they seem unpredictable and a little frightening.
I awoke around 2 am to the realization that I was not on the back of my horse at a dead run through the dusty streets of an old western town while firing my pistol into the air. I couldn’t see what I was wearing, so I don’t know how well I looked the part, but I would like to think I looked a little something like this
Blanche Messier Foster
. . . and that my bum was planted firmly in the saddle.