Unveiling Dreams - Ch 1

Chapter 1 - Raven’s approach to training horses is different than most. But is it too far afield?

To begin from the first chapter, START HERE.

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Raven stands in her client’s training ring, the Wyoming hot sun beating down on her, dust swirling gently around her feet. Her soothing voice and steady hands work wonders on the skittish mare named Star, who begins to settle, her ears flicking forward in tentative trust. Raven, feeling the horse's tension easing, knows better than to fully relax with a young, unpredictable animal like this.

Suddenly, a loud noise erupts from the owner’s truck—a horn blast and shouting. The horse rears up, eyes wide with fear. Raven’s heart leaps, but she keeps her composure, quickly moving to calm the panicked animal. The owner, Mr. McNab, races from his truck, yelling at Raven to get Star under control. The cacophony only heightens the horse's panic.

Raven keeps her focus, her hands firm but gentle on the lead. She speaks softly to Star, hearing the whisper of her ancestors guiding her hands, calming Star to a relaxed state. The horse’s breathing slows, and her muscles soften under Raven’s touch. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Mr. McNab’s stiff posture by the fence, arms crossed, his jaw set. The doubt is clear on his face, but beneath it, she senses something else—frustration, even sadness.

Raven resists the urge to snap at him as he calls out again, the tension in his voice only heightening Star’s nerves. Instead, she takes a slow breath, her focus shifting briefly from the horse to the man. He’s just as unsure as she is, she realizes. Maybe more. It wasn’t the first time she had seen an owner struggling to connect with their horse, but with Mr.McNab, it felt different. She wondered what else weighed on him—whether his need for control extended beyond the training ring.

Instead of confronting him, she drops the lead and starts walking away slowly, casting quiet glances over her shoulder. Star, curious and seeking comfort, follows her.

As the horse nuzzles her shoulder, Raven speaks in low, soothing tones to both Star and, indirectly, to William. Sometimes the hardest part is not knowing how to let go, she muses silently, watching him. His shoulders relaxed slightly, but the tension lingers in his eyes. She wonders if Mr. McNab, like so many before him, is carrying more than just the weight of this horse’s training. People often think they are coming to her to help their animals, but often, the healing they need runs much deeper.

Later, Raven suggests that Mr. McNab join her in the process.

“My method involves working with both the horse and the owner,” Raven says, her tone calm but pointed. William’s brows furrow, a mix of confusion and resistance flashing across his face. Raven notices the slight tremor in his hand as he strokes Star’s flank. He’s holding onto something more than this moment, she thinks. Maybe he’s been holding onto it for years.

She continues, “You are her partner, and you both need to trust each other. Are you with me?” As she speaks, she watches him carefully, sensing the internal struggle he’s fighting to have. She knows that trust isn’t just something that happens between the horse and the rider—it’s something William needs to find within himself, too.

Mr. McNab's face contorts with a mix of emotions. "Are you saying this is my fault?" he asks, his voice tight.

"No, not at all," Raven replies. "It's about building a relationship, getting to know each other. Like any new partnership." His face relaxes slightly at her words.

"Okay. I will give you a chance. You came highly recommended, and I need results," he says, his tone softening.

"Thank you, Mr. McNab. Can we meet tomorrow at 10? I’ll stay the week, and we’ll all work together." Raven's eyes hold his, willing him to trust her.

"Yes. You can expect me then. And please, call me William," he replies, his doubt giving way to a tentative hope.

Raven guides Star out of the ring. As they pass William, he reaches out to touch the mare. Star flinches, pulling back. William withdraws his hand, frustration and a hint of sadness in his eyes. Raven stands firm as Star settles down, her voice calm and steady. “Easy, girl. You’re okay,” she soothes, feeling the horse’s muscles relax under her touch. Mr. McNab watches, his skeptical frown softening as he sees Star responding. “See? She just needs trust. Let’s work together tomorrow, same time,” she suggests. Mr. McNab nods, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Alright, I’ll be here,” he agrees, his tone less harsh.

 Raven says, leading Star towards the stable. "Well, girl, we have our work cut out for us, don't we?" she whispers, already planning their next steps.

As she left the stable that evening, Raven could not shake the feeling that Star’s recovery was just the beginning of a much larger journey. A journey that might not only change the horse’s life but also her own.

Back in her hotel room, Raven replayed the day’s events with Star and William. As she leaned against the window, watching the Wyoming sunset dip below the horizon, her thoughts drifted to the heart of her work.

“It’s not uncommon when I suggest the owner needs as much training as the horse,” she murmured to herself, a faint smile playing on her lips.

The blend of Native American shamanism and modern psychology that guides her approach isn’t just a method—it was her life’s philosophy. “This braided approach,” she mused, “isn’t just about training. It’s a way of living that honors both the spirit and the mind.” She saw herself as a bridge between two worlds, harmonizing the ancient wisdom of her ancestors with the structured guidance of contemporary therapeutic practices.

Her thoughts wandered back to her great-grandmother, whose medicine pouch still rested on the nightstand beside her bed. It was more than just a relic; it was a reminder of the whispers of the earth and the spirits that had guided her family for generations.

“Respect, patience, understanding the unseen,” Raven thought, remembering the rituals and energy work that connected her to the horses she healed. These practices are not just tools—they were threads woven into the very fabric of who she was.

But Raven also knew the value of psychology—the concrete, evidence-based approach that offered a map to the mind’s complex landscapes. “Human psychology helps people understand themselves, confront their fears, and make meaningful changes,” she reflected, appreciating how this practical knowledge balanced the spiritual side of her work.

Combining these two modalities was no easy feat, and she knew well the skepticism it often provoked. “But this integration honors the whole person—body, mind, and spirit,” she thought, resolute in her belief. People like William might struggle to accept this duality, seeing spirituality and psychology as incompatible. But Raven had seen the power of their combination too many times to doubt it. “Healing isn’t just about treating symptoms; it’s about understanding and embracing the entirety of one’s existence.”

As the day’s light faded, so too did Raven’s thoughts of the challenges ahead. The path she had chosen was not the easy one, but it was true to who she was. Helping others reconnect with their horses—and with themselves—was her calling. Guiding her clients through both spiritual and psychological realms created something lasting, something real.

Raven let out a slow breath, feeling a deep sense of purpose settle over her. The whispers of the earth, the spirits, and her own intuition swirled within her, guiding her forward. “This is only the beginning,” she thought, her mind already turning to tomorrow’s work. Another day would bring new challenges, but also new opportunities—to heal, to connect, and to make a difference.