I spend a large amount of time on dreams. I like the word “dream.” I used to have a wire sculpture of the word, it was painted with crackle paint to look old and had flowers washed in subtle hues. I hung it on the wall of my bedroom across from my bed, so I could see it every time that I lie down. It’s not like I particularily needed the reminder…my days and nights were, are and probably always will be infused with dreams.
My most self-requested dream is the one where I find myself with my “soul mate” strolling in a field of tall grass and flowers. There are no snakes, not certainly in this dream! There we are hand in hand, lost to the world and within our own world. We enjoy this feeling so much that we spend every minute we possibly can in each other’s arms. The dream continues in a flowery swirl that’s so sweet and cute that I might go into shock if I were a diabetic. Romantic notions are alive as the world stops for us while we are together.
One night, back in the 70s, I danced with a guy who moved so perfectly with me that we were applauded after one particularly awesome song. Fact is, I don’t remember the song but I remember the feeling. I felt spectacular that, to this day, I cannot forget how it was to be the center of attention.
The small, round dance floor was empty….we were the only two that chose to dance. I looked fabulous…I was in my prime. I flashback to this particular point in time when I just cannot take the mundane tasks of my everyday world. I was out with Morris, a guy of Egyptian descent whose real name was some form of Maurice. He dressed well & I was proud to be alongside him.
I floated along with the music….music being my passion, you’d think I’d have gone into a career somehow involving it. I felt every groove and made it mine through my moves. We moved well together and I so enjoyed dancing with him. There was a little pressure since I normally didn’t allow myself to be “led”….I always moved in my own way. Most of the time when I danced at the disco it was separate, almost like the guy was my very own backup dancer. This night was filled with magical moments and lots of romance, which probably led to the glow I felt within. I swirled and I twirled into the sound that enveloped me. Morris made that date night so special with the way he treated me like a lady and one to be cherished. Maybe he was a gentleman, and I was in adoration of him but more than that was my love toward myself. I allowed myself to come out and play…I played dancer. It was who I really was. I couldn’t deny it as soon as the music began.
this a a test….I wrote a great post & it appears I lost it!
here to find the real me
