melismas and horses

There were horses. Indoors. There was hay on the floor on the carpets. Some of the rooms had cement floors, like I had not seen since the days of my childhood in Catia in West Caracas so many years ago. I had to pick up my things from behind the back of where one of this enormous horses was. I was afraid it would kick back when it sensed the proximity of a stranger behind. He raised a foot, carefully tapping against my leg. I said something in very low woice, almost whispering, trying to calm it. Grabbed my bag and went to the next room, where there was a sort of party. This room gave to a garden that was deep in darkness and very little could be made of it. There were a few people sitting, walking and milling around. Then I knew (although I never saw them) that the choir were behind me and I started to sing a Venezuelan song from the Llanos, with the choir accompanying me with a spine tingling boca chiusa intrincate set of vocal harmonies. I didn't know the song but I somehow knew what I had to sing. It was the most fantastic, beautiful music. The people around, fat men in suits with loosened ties and blonde-dyed women in red dresses with gold jewelry, ignored the music and just chatted in a louder voice. I finished. There wasn't a sign of acknowledgment from the audience. I then told myself.. I have to wake up now...