The ash-Dusted unicorn in the meadow

"I was walking through a meadow behind a house I think was my grandparents', though the hills were way too tall, and there it was at the edge of the trees, a unicorn, except not white exactly, more a pale silvery gray, like it had been dusted with ash. the horn was shorter than I'd have guessed. didn't feel weird at all, just right. It let me walk up to it, and I remember laughing because its mane smelled like cut grass and rain. There was a second one behind it, smaller, maybe a foal, hiding half behind the first, and I crouched down hoping it'd come closer. It did, slowly, nosing at my sleeve. Somehow I was riding, though I never climbed on, the meadow sliding by smooth and quiet, wind in my face, so happy it almost hurt. I wanted to tell somebody, kept turning around for a person who wasn't there. Woke up grinning, hands still loosely gripping a mane."