Saturday morning / July 7, 1973 / Nashville, Tennessee. Had very colorful, vivid and emotional dreams. Real. Just before I woke up I was standing on a rocky, windy hillside at night. Someone was there with me . . . We were sort of trembling like we were expecting something strange to happen or it had already happened. There was a noise like the sound you imagine a falling star would make. When I looked to the sky which was pitch black with brilliant stars, I saw a glowing white form. Someone said, “Jesus, what is it?” Or maybe I said it; it was a whisper, but amplified like the sound in a movie theater. We had just agreed that it was a giant swan: it’s neck was long and curved and as it got closer we could see that it had definite outlines, defined in black. And it had jewels set in it and it wasn’t a swan or a bird but a horse. A very small delicate little horse that looked more like an old wooden carousel horse than a real horse because when it first touched earth, coming down about five feet from where I stood and it all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to jump back nor did I have the power. However, as I started to say, from the time that it first came into my view and changed into a horse it was immobile, like a wooden or stone horse falling from the night sky.