Dreamed by Catherine B. about 1962, as told to Chris Wayan; painted 1983/8/10.
This is a tribute to my late friend Catherine. As a child she repeatedly dreamed she was a black flying mare with golden hooves--a problem, since everyone was after them, and she was, well, rather attached to them. "I loved to run, fly, swim--when I did, I grew fins. Comfortable--land, air and sea. Aside from being hunted, I was happy."
I'd had almost identical dreams, so I painted a sort of hybrid image of our flights in the dark, when the gold-prospectors can't see... (the border, though it's hard to tell in this scan, is gold)
Catherine killed herself.
As the dream had warned, she'd lost her magic hooves. And they meant that much.
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