There were horses. They were all grey and ones that I broke in and one bolted with my brother because it was angry about being a riding horse and not in the movies. Horses -never- bolt with my brother. It's not called bolting when the rider is sitting there having the time of their life going "Faster! Faster!" So that was weird. Also weird was the family who bought a house in Brooklyn, who wanted to pick my brains about flystrike treatment and who had four kids, and I said "Wow, when your kids get older you're going to regret buying a house with only one bathroom." And they said "Oh, you're right." And gave it to me.
So now I own a dream-house. It's huckery and old with old-lady pot plants hanging all over it. I thought dream-houses were supposed to be big and mansion-y and all new and shiny?