I’m sitting here watching Phantom Gourmet, procrastinating just a little on getting motivated (okay, it’s 11am, so what!) and this seemed like a good time to run my mouth off in a blog post.
Anyway, I come before you today to talk about dreams. I’ve been having pretty vivid and interesting dreams all week, ranging from a trip to my family’s cottage in New Hampshire to a Pulp Fiction-esque nocturnal reverie (I blame this week’s episode of Community for that one). Last night, though, I had a lovely ballet dream. These are more and more frequent as my obsession — I mean passion! — grows.
In my dreams, I can developpé à la seconde up to my ear, hold my balance en pointe, hold my arabesque, pirouette (doubles! triples! en pointe!) … in my dreams, I am about 200% more talented and flexible than I am in my waking hours.
The first few times I had dreams such as these, I woke up disappointed with my self and with my limitations. Now I relish in these dreams! They inspire me, they motivate me, they drive me to be the dancer I am in my subconscious. At my age, I may never be that dancer, but the dreams push me to be better than I am now and that push is everything.
I’m stubborn, I’m a perfectionist… sometimes it feels as though I won’t rest until I get something right. Until then, I’ll always have these dreams. If my brain can do it, sooner or later my body will, too. Right?