She began to shiver slightly as she looked out on the estuary from the bridge of her third dream. “Bran, oh sweet Bran!” she thought. That mischievous boy!
She remembered the day they were playing by the river bank. A horse of shining blue white suddenly appeared from the glen. It shook droplets of water from it’s head as prisms of light hovered in the air caught by the sun. The murmur of time became silent. Bran was mesmerized. She saw him reach toward the wet mane to stroke it. “Don’t touch it!” she had cried. But it was too late.
The kelpie reared up and Bran was mirrored in it’s wild eyes, his hand caught up in the wet mane. All he could do was leap bravely onto it’s back and let it carry him into the deep, dark river. She jumped into the water to try to reach his one outstretched arm but all she could see was his beautiful face looking up at her pleadingly as it disappeared into the murky depths!
This would be the hardest dream to find and retrieve. It’s light had been wrapped up in the shadow of sorrow and regret. She lowered her head and wept.
A “kelpie” in Celtic mythology was a demon water horse that carried unsuspecting people to their doom, especially young men. If you touched it you were not able to let go. It sometimes disguised itself as a young and beautiful woman.