I Never Dance Anymore

My dreams last night were jumbled, long, complicated, and emotional.

It's weird that I'm only overtly emotional and can clearly label the emotions when I'm *not* in reality (watching TV shows, reading, or dreaming).

My favorite bit of a dream last night was about dancing.

It might seem ridiculous, but in actuality it was amazing.

I was at a cabin some friends and I were renting.  Brodus Clay (a wrestler on RAW) was there and we were in the kitchen doorway waiting while someone cooked...breakfast?  Lunch?  Anyway, Brodus and I started dancing.  We matched each other in movement, timing it perfectly.  We danced around the kitchen, and I was confident.  Strong.  I felt at peace.  Warm.  Loved. 

After we danced, he asked if I ever danced at home.  "Never," I said.  I felt incredibly sad.  "I was a dancer for nine years," I whispered as we left the kitchen.

Ok, so the last part was sad.  But the dancing...it was a mix of modern dance and classical ballet with some ice skating moves.  We glided across the floor as if we were one being, and I didn't fumble the steps once.  It was exhilarating.

In real life, I've lost my coordination, gracefulness, and ability to let go.  There have been numerous opportunities to dance -- at weddings, at church, with friends downtown. 

Part of the reason I don't dance is where I work.  And part of the reason I don't dance is because I'm afraid.  I'm afraid of messing up.  I'm afraid that I don't have the money to take lessons.  I'm afraid I'm not good at it.  I'm afraid I look stupid (I'm much too big to be a real ballerina, although I'm short enough).  I'm afraid people won't want to dance with me.  I'm afraid that I've lost whatever talent I had for it.  I'm afraid I'll hurt myself.  I'm afraid my chances are gone forever.

But I ache for it.  I ache to dance again.  To be part of a dance team of two or twelve.  To learn.  To flex and stretch.  To be so focused on movement that my mind disappears and my arms and legs and torso take over. 

I miss dancing.

But I miss the ability to let go, to be free, even more.