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Have you ever had a dream that was crushingly disappointing?
It was disappointing because the dream started with me walking into a racecourse filled with people on a sunny day, to be met by Lord Grimthorpe and told: “I’m sorry, but we have decided to put up James Doyle in your place”. Just stunned disbelief from me as I stood immobile, absolutely shattered by the news.
My mind was full of thoughts of taking part in this special race meeting between all the best breeding operations in the UK and Ireland, and I was one of four jockeys for Juddmonte. The other teams included Coolmore, Aga Khan studs, Godolphin/Darley, etc. I was only thirty seconds into my dream but I knew everything about the day, including how brilliant, brilliant, brilliant it would be. I shoved my saddle into Teddy Grimthorpe’s hands and stomped off muttering “I’ve been loyal to you for decades, and you want someone who just ran off to follow the money!”
Then I woke up. I had weeks of stuff in my head, loads of detail, all in a dream lasting two minutes. I never got to negotiate with Pat Eddery that he could ride Dancing Brave as long as I could have Warning; and that he could try and get Frankel to stay one and a half miles, if I had the chance to get Bated Breath to win a Group 1 at last. Immense disappointment!
So what was your equivalent?
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