It was bitter cold, and Simon the donkey was shivering, shaking.

He missed his old farm and farm family. He missed his dry warm barn, and fresh hay,

and shelter from the wind and cold. When his farmer had come to say goodbye,

to tell him he would have to leave,

Simon did not understand what had happened, but he understood the farmer’s tears

and sadness. And soon enough, his own.

Simon was lying in a pool of frozen water. He could no longer stand up, as his hooves

had grown out so far his legs were twisted, and he could not walk without great pain.

His had lain on his right side for so long in his wooden lean-to – there were

so many holes the rain and snow and ice came inside – that his teeth had grown into his

jaw and it was too painful to try and eat.

His coat was covered with rot, his mane with lice, most of his fur had fallen off,

his eyes infected and swollen shut.

Simon was letting go. He knew he was dying, he was losing strength, hope.

All winter, he had been living under a few planks of wood, a pallet or two,

which had formed a low tent. It was built by the farmer’s son,

who was not mean.

He could barely lie down inside, but

there was no room to stand up.

Simon was so thin his ribs were sticking out, and he was weakening.

Every day or so, the farmer’s young son would sneak out to the lonely shed and toss

Simon a carrot, or an apple, or a piece of bread.

Simon would have loved to spend time with the boy, crunch on his apples.

take him on rides. But he could no longer eat anything.

He did not understand how people could be so good,

and so mean to a donkey.

Simon could not stand up any longer, he had accepted his fate, his death,

was ready to leave the world,

and set out in search of the place where animal spirits go, and then,

as he was drawing one of his last breaths, and preparing to say goodbye to his sad world,

Simon had a dream.  In the dream, strangers came in the night and took him to a different farm.

In this farm, there was light, and warmth, and shelter.

He dreamed that there was a different farmer, who

came to him, and understood his pain,  and saw into his disappointed soul,

for donkeys do not ever get angry, only sad,

and brought him apples,

and rubbed medicine on his wounds,

and sang to him and told him stories at

night, when he was lonely.

He dreamed there was a woman on the farm who brushed him,

and touched heads, and whispered soothing

sounds in his ear, and brought him fresh hay, pains of grain,

carrots and bread and even rich smelling spaghetti with cheese.

Simon dreamed there were two female donkeys, who he loved dearly,

and who he followed around all day, and who

kicked him in the head almost every morning to show how much the loved him too.

Simon had never had other donkeys to live with, not once in his life, and this made him happy.

And there were pastures to roam, and hills to climb, and bark to nibble and trees for shade,

and when it was raining and cold, he had a barn to come inside, which was dry and warm.

And soon his belly was full, there was sometimes more food than he could eat, and fresh

grass as far as he could see, and

he could walk again on his legs, and people came to trim his hooves,

and rubbed soothing ointments on his skin,

and  fix his teeth so that he could chew and eat.

And in the afternoon, when the sun was strong,

he could lie on his side and soak up the sun, with the other donkeys,  which

all donkeys love to do. And the new farmer took him for walks, and sang songs to him,

and scratched his itchy forehead and came out to him in the barn in the night

and told him stories in a soft and soothing voice.

Simon took a slow deep breath, and brayed out to the stars in farewell,

very grateful for this dream.

And then, he awoke from his dream and opened his eyes,

and he could not believe what he was seeing at first.

He thought it was his poor cloudy eyes playing tricks.

But then he saw that all of these things were real.

His dream had come true.