Just dance

"C'mon. Dance with me. I love this song." [She bites her lower lip and her hips begin to move with the music.]

"You know I can't dance and even when I try I end up looking like a complete fool." [He moves closer to the wall, hoping that a secret door will magically appear and save him from his fear.]

[She giggles. They have been through this so many times before and he always ends up with the same horrified look on his face.]

"You think too much. You're the only one who really cares about what you look like when you dance. Just trust me. Take my hand, close your eyes, and let the bass fill your body. Nobody in here is watching you. They're entranced in their own experience."

[With an exaggerated exhale, he reluctantly gives in and allows her to lead him into the crowd of people. Instantly, he feels entwined within the labyrinth of the swaying and pulsating bodies. He gasps for breath and tries to retrace his steps back to safety but to his dismay, the path is over-grown with ecstatic dancers. Besides, as he pulls away, she pulls him back with a strength that reminds him that he is going nowhere. He knows that the only way out of this situation is to resign himself to the music and show at least a feeble attempt at having fun. If only his legs didn't feel like two lead poles attached to the floor. Slowly, he lifts his right foot from ground, then his left. His hips begin to move a little from side to side. To his amazement, he feels his parted lips and notices a hint of a smile forming on his face. Then, he opens his eyes and sees her. She is so beautiful, so goddess-like, in the ocean of lights and sensual rhythm of the music. Her body flows so freely and her face exudes ecstasy. She has found her happy place. This moment makes it all worth it...well, that, and her promise to watch the football game tomorrow.]

All In A Dream

Sometimes the darkness finds its way into her deepest consciousness, seeping through the cracks of her well constructed psyche and leaving her defenseless in the strangle-hold of her past. She chokes as she reaches to lessen the grip of her paralyzing memories, mentally digging her fingers into the big, fleshy hands encircling her present thoughts. But as with most altercations, the more she struggles, the more she loses control and the vice grows tighter, leaving her breathless and weak. She utters the words, "You can't have me without a fight," and violently begins flailing her arms and kicking her legs, attacking the darkness with as much vigor and strength as she can muster in her current condition. She wonders what she must look like to the outside observer. Is she merely a doll, being held by the neck by a 12-foot monster who looks at her with amusement (and possibly a little bit of sadness) because he knows that the more she struggles the more difficult it will be to be free? Or, does she look like a sleek super-hero who will pull out her ninja moves at just the right moment, using strategy to weaken the enemy. She ponders these two situations as the darkness continues to creep closer, swirling around her in its sultry dance. Suddenly, her body stiffens and she is jerked out of her reverie by the sounds of Portishead playing on the radio. It takes a moment for her to realize that her alarm clock is to blame for the disruption. Annoyed and a little bit shaken, she rolls over to hit the snooze button. This time she chooses "super-hero."