As a young girl, I begged my parents for dance lessons. I had dreams of dancing Swan Lake to rave reviews, marrying my oh-so-handsome dance partner (not realizing the statistical improbability of finding a straight dance partner), and living happily ever after in the wealth and fame of the truly talented celebrity.
Yeah, that didn’t happen.
When I was 14 I started dance classes. By this point in my life I had fantasies of dancing Swan Lake to rave reviews, marrying an avid ballet-goer (see, I was learning), and living so happily that I’d never notice how poor we actually were (again, this would be slightly more realistic for a ballet dancer).
Eventually, I learned that while I could be technically good at ballet, my body just wasn’t built for a professional career as a ballerina, let alone the prima slot I’d dreamed about. It was, however, built for classical modern dance, particularly Martha Graham-style dance. If I hadn’t decided on an academic major in college, and if I hadn’t worried about the short careers and extreme uncertainty of a dancer’s life, I might have made something of myself with this style of dance.
But then I moved away from my dance academy and, try as I might, I couldn’t find an instructor in my new location that could coach me in this style of dance. For a couple of years I traveled back to Chicago each summer to teach, choreograph, and continue my training. But dance really doesn’t lend itself to 10-months-off/2-months-on training schedules, and I eventually gave it up. I thought I was over it. It’s hard to believe that I took my last dance class 5 years ago, and it’s been 9 years since I was actually “in training.”
Well, in the last couple of weeks, dance has become a silent obsession again. I’ve begun stretching for the first time in years, I’m dreaming complex and vivid dreams about choosing dancing slippers, I’m ordering books on Graham technique, and I’ve resurrected my old habit of mentally choreographing to every whisper if music I hear. I’ve even developed a “silent” dance technique that I hope Ms. Second Floor can’t hear. Is this what addiction is like? All of a sudden, all I want to do is find a Graham instructor, but unfortunately they’re few and far between.
Maybe I’ll find a space and teach myself. I’m sure my muscles will remember what they’re supposed to do. Maybe I can even get a couple of my friends to play at being dance students for a while (these things are always more fun with people than without). I just really, really, really want to dance again.