Dear Sam,
I dreamed that I
was a dancer. A good one. Performing on the most beautiful floor. It was wooden
and gleaming and instead of parallel boards, it was made of perfectly smoothed
and polished cross sections with star shaped wooden mosaics between the great
circles. The band was set up on a platform suspended above the dance floor, and
bubbles floated out of their instruments with the music. The crowd clapped in
unison with the rhythm. Their glowing smiles were the only lighting in the room.
Every time I
blinked, I opened my eyes to find a different dance partner. The first one I
can remember was Andy Reid. He wore a fedora made of blown glass, and his wingtip
shoes seemed to be made of real feathers. He led me into a set of shines that
worked like nothing I’ve ever done while awake, and his feathered shoes got
lighter and lighter as he did Frankie Manning’s favorite footwork accents.
Before we’d finished eight counts, Andy’s shoes floated off the ground until he
was dancing upside down with his feet gravitating to the bandstand above my
head. Our arms stretched upward to reach each other and we finished the shines
as he swatted the bubbles out of his face. I blinked-
And Max
Pitruzzella rocketed down with a flip and a visible trail of cigarette smoke to
land next to me and freeze on a break in the music. The band quickened the
pace, and Max swung me out. Twice for good measure. And his tattoos all moved
with the music, swirling and forming into people doing the same moves as us.
The crowd cheered as Max and I did a lamp post that flew me through the curtain
of bubbles to land close enough to the crowd for them to see the seams on the
mini spandex shorts I wore under my skirt when I swiveled away. I blinked
again-
And opened my eyes
to find myself doing the mess around beside Michael Jagger, who was wearing a
yellow vest covered in giant black, white, and red polka dots over a white
collared shirt. As we boogied forward, Michael bobbled his head. And his entire
neck and all of his joints suddenly seemed to turn into a springs. We partnered
up and he led me into a spring-loaded dip that propelled me into a flip. While
I was in midair, I reached into my pocket and put a red clown nose on his face.
The crowd roared and I blinked as I landed-
I did a lock step,
turned, and looked way up to face Peter Strom. He had a white dress shirt that
was left open enough for everyone to see the Superman logo underneath. He
looked over the crowd, winked, and popped bubbles with a finger to the beat for
a measure before leading in with a stomp-off. The bubbles drifting down from
the vocalist started clinging to Peter’s clothes until they completely blurred
his outline, and they popped as we did a swing out, leaving me to dance with a
figure made completely of musical staff. I blinked with a start-
And Suzy Q’d to
meet Skye Humphries in the middle of the floor. He grinned and the glowing
smiles in the crowd got uncomfortably bright. We danced. And it was so smooth,
so clean, that the crowd was immediately hypnotized and fell silent. There was
a sax solo, and as the rest of the band joined back in, the rings in the wooden
floor began to sprout, and we found ourselves doing Charleston in a forest
within three bars.
That’s about when
I woke up. Now I know you’re probably wondering where I’m going with this. I
know the dream was silly. But the thing is, Sam, each of the people I danced
with was an adventure, and everything would change in the blink of an eye. But
for a new adventure to start, the old one has to end. I’m sorry, Sam. I really
am. But I’m hungry for a new adventure. I’m starving for it. I’ll always look
back on us with a smile, and I hope you do too. We had the most wonderful
times.
XOXOXO,
Becka
