two dreams

Cormac McCarthy loves his dad.

okay. two of them. both had my father. it’s peculiar. I’m older now than he ever was by twenty years. so in a sense he’s the younger man.
anyway, first one I don’t remember so well but it was about money and I think I lost it. the second one, it was like we were both back in older times and I was on horseback going through the mountains at night. going through this pass in the mountains. it was cold and snowing, hard riding. hard country. he rode past me and kept on going. never said nothing going by. he just rode on past and he had his blanket wrapped around him and his head down and when he rode past I seen he was carrying fire in a horn the way people used to do and I could see the horn from the light inside of it, about the color of the moon.
and in the dream I knew that he was going on ahead and that he was fixing to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and all that cold, and I knew that whenever I got there he would be there. out there up ahead.
and then I woke up.

if, it turns out, that Cormac McCarthy has never even rode a goddamn horse, I’m gonna be upset. this is a writing thing.

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