I have a terrible nightmare about Stately Pride. She is standing in a bathtub inside a dingy house and the plaster is hanging off the walls in long gray sheets. Her hooves are dreadfully short and big chunks have cracked off every part of them. When I press on the exposed horn my thumb sinks in and she draws back her leg in pain. Whatever I do is no good and I feel powerless to help. I look away in revulsion but look back when I hear the sound of thumping. She is trying to walk around the bathtub on bloody stumps and I feel the grip of desperation tightening around my heart. Beads of icy sweat stand out on my forehead and swirling snowflakes blot out my vision. I shall call today to see what is going on with the poor horse because no dream can be so vivid unless it carries a message from the waking world.
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