This may be a little self-indulgent, but when I have a dream this lucid I need to act on it. I haven't had a bit in my mouth since the second weekend in January and something tells me that I have crossed some sort of psychological line. If I go too long without pony play in reality, it starts popping up in dreams.
So be it. Here's what happened while I slept...
I was staying at a ranch where I was to receive some training. The specifics weren't spelled out to me at the outset, but why should they be? Mistress decided I needed some sort of instruction that this place could provide. Nothing outlandish about that, but I was still very nervous. My pal Stormy was there, having arrived some time before I did. That was good in and of itself, but when I discovered he was also going to be responsible for getting me settled in, I felt a lot better.
There were plenty of others in this particular paddock, both men and women all there to be trained in some aspect or other to be better centaurs.
Centaurs?
Well, it seemed so matter-of-fact in the dream that it took a moment for me to notice. But yes, all of us had human torsos and equine bodies. I guess that would qualify us as centaurs. And it certainly meant that some things would be a little different than they were at, say, the average play party. This place meant business. It was a ranch specifically designed for training submissives and the program was rigorous. Missteps would be forgiven once and then punished thereafter. Rules would be explained once and followed or else. I can't say that anyone was fearful, but there was a sort of tension in the air that makes a bottom like me tingle.
Not long after I arrived, Stormy set about instructing me in the protocol of this strange place. Here is what I learned.
The place was run by a human; a man well versed in the care and training of centaurs and, for all I knew, other mythological creatures. I didn't meet him right away, but most only did on rare occasions. Those occasions could be happy or terrifying but were rarely anything in between. Most preferred to avoid him, but nobody thought of him as cruel. He was perhaps better seen as a very strict Dom.
Most of the discipline in the paddock was maintained by the dominant centaur. He was an imposing figure who had attained his rank not by assignment or even long experience (though he was reputed to be very wise), but by fighting his way to the top. He wasn't a violent sort, but you didn't want him angry at you. If you met him face to face, you were expected to nod or bow politely but say nothing unless asked a direct question. Eye contact was also discouraged as it was considered a provocation.
Stormy told me that my first task would be to find my place in the herd and he took a lot of time explaining how that worked. There was a ritual etiquette involved that seemed simple enough on the face of it, but proved a challenge in practice. Stormy told me to be myself and socialize as much as possible. From time to time, one of the other male centaurs would come face to face with me and place a hand on my chest as if to stop me in my tracks. I could meet that challenge in a number of ways, and the outcome would determine my place in relation to the challenger. I could bow my head and back out of the challenger's way, which would mean that I immediately recognized his dominance over me. I could place my hand on his chest in return, which would initiate what could only be described as a rituals staring contest. One of us would eventually cause the other to look away. The one that looked away then took a place below the other in the order. Finally, I could put my hand on the challenger's chest and one of us could initiate a fight. Few chose this option, and it usually only occurred when someone made an unwise choice. For example, trying to stare down a challenger who was clearly dominant.
All of this was silent, unspoken communication. Speech required permission and that didn't happen often.
I thought I understood the rule quite well. Stormy had told me what I needed to know and I headed into the paddock with confidence that I would get along well with the others. All I had to do was show respect not only to those I regarded as dominant to me, but to those who considered me dominant to them as well. Simple.
There were two things I hadn't thought about. The first was that none of those who had arrived prior to me considered me to be dominant to anybody. I tend to go along to get along, but it wasn't long before I figured out that that formula wouldn't work. I would have to win some of those staring contests, and that meant choosing my adversaries very carefully if I wanted to avoid fights. Another thing I hadn't considered was that although the female centaurs did not stop or challenge me (they had rituals of their own), they had their part to play. I befriended several of them easily not even thinking that the rules of human society took a back seat to the rules of the equine herd. The more dominant males were not at all happy to see me making friends with "their" females, and I found myself subjected to many more challenges than I had expected.
I don't know how long I was at this ranch, but I do know that I did well with my trainings and even made quite a few friends. I earned the somewhat qualified respect of the dominant centaur (how I'm not sure) and generally stayed out of trouble. But somewhere in the midst of all this, Stormy disappeared. I hadn't seen him since that first day and later found out that he had finished his training and gone back to Aphrodite's Meadow.
That suddenly made me homesick. I don't know if that caused problems with my performance or attitude, but it wasn't long before I was told I needed to see the owner of the ranch. That would be the one who either made you happy or scared the stuffing out of you. I knew only that I had no choice and would have to go see this man. Stormy wasn't there to tell me what to do (perhaps that was purposeful), so I had to figure out how best to approach this ordeal.
I thought about the things I had learned during my time at this ranch. I remembered all of the challengers I had faced. I recalled the few I had stepped aside for immediately, and few I had confronted successfully, and the many I had otherwise learned to coexist with peacefully. And somewhere in all of that thinking, I decided that the best way to meet the ranch owner was to stand erect, be proud and respectful. I made every effort to be clean and well groomed, then presented myself to the meeting place at the appointed hour.
I probably should have been terrified, but for some reason, I wasn't. I was confident and had a smile on my face. When I walk into the room, the first thing I saw was the dominant centaur. He looked at me with a face that was stern and smiling all at the same time. I avoided eye contact as I had been taught and bowed politely to him. Then I heard a voice tell me to step further into the room.
The ranch owner was sitting at a table with a computer in front of him. He was clearly looking at my record and evaluating my progress. Then he turned and looked at me. He asked me how I felt I had done in the time I had been there and gave me permission to speak.
I'm not exactly sure what I said, but I know I left the final judgment to him and that made him smile. He told me that I had earned some time away from the ranch and that if I chose, I could return to Aphrodite's Meadow for a while. That meant I could see Stormy, Mistress and any others who were there. That made me more than happy. I was dismissed and told I could leave, bearing in mind that my voice was not to be used once again.
I turned, nodded again to the dominant centaur who, to my surprise, smiled and nodded back. Then I walked out of the room. The ranch owner was behind me patting my shoulder.
At that moment, I awoke to find my cat pawing that same shoulder and squawking to be let in under the covers because the bedroom was cold.
Reality sometimes returns in less than subtle ways.
So that's the weird dream. As to what it all means, well, I'm not sure. What do you think?
