Friday, May 20, 2005


The room had low lighting. It was rectangular. I was standing slightly off center towards the upper left hand corner. The dancer came from just the right on the lower left corner. Her hair was black or dark brown. It was cut just below chin level. Her nose was sharply angular to her face. Her eyes were closed. She wore mascara. Her top was a cotton fabric in a tank top style with wide straps and it was colored black. The matching pants were also made of cotten and designed like sweat pants, but very thin, flowing fabric. She also wore a boa.

She danced in and around the room as if in a modern ballet piece. As she slowly approached, I realized that the boa was a deep crimson color. It's "feathers" were made of crushed velvet. The dancer crossed from one side to the other of the room. She did not appear to notice that I was there, standing, clothed, watching and appreciating her athleticism, skill, and grace. When she went by me, both front and back, it seemed natural and I wondered if she did know I was there at all.

Once behind me, she paused at one point, turned into the opposite direction, and, slowing down, began to dance away. As she did so, the dancer untwirled her boa, slowly. Everything slowed down, including my breathing. It was as if I didn't want to disturb the scene. The boa literally floated in the air as the dancer made a half circle around me. I realized that this seemingly regular boa was impossibly long and that it should have dropped to the ground by now as the dancer passed in front of me again, but the boa did not. It was dropping, but it looked more like it was sinking in water.

The dancer turned once more and moved away from me. Her eyes were still closed. Again, there appeared to be no sign that she knew I was there. As the end of the boa unfurled from around her neck, the dancer moved another foot away, then paused. She then began to twirl in a descent to the floor in unison with the boa. When she lied down I began looking around from behind me and followed the boa's pattern. It had made a perfect question mark with the dancer's head as the period.

I woke.

(Note: I rarely remember dreams, but this was a cool one for me and thought that I'd post it here).

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