Its 12:20pm on Labor Day. I should be enjoying my day off,
but instead I'm miserable on the couch. Tim has just left for a half day of
work, so I'm on my own. A movie, I think.
But getting up to decide what to watch is too much trouble, so I reach
for my kindle instead.
Soon the words on the page become blurry and the next think
I know I'm on a dancefloor. I've never been to this particular one before, but
I know it must be in LA. There's a huge lindy hop thing there this weekend.
Surely I'm at Camp Hollywood. Before I can get my bearings, I see a familiar
face: Ian from work. Ian doesn't dance, I think, Ian has a phd
in philosophy. But then he sees me, grabs my hand and we are grooving. He's
like the goddamn Skye Humphries of dreamland, creative and smooth and really
really good. I'm about to comment on just how good he is when he drops my hand
and walks away. Just walks away without a word. The song hasn't ended, no other
shadowy couple has left the floor. Just him.
And I wake up. My body aches. My mouth is dry (no doubt I
have been mouth breathing) and I'm hungry. I manage to rustle up some leftovers
while I check facebook. Howard and Gayl are at Camp Hollywood. They've made it
into the Amateur Balboa finals and I couldn't be more proud, or rather I could
be, if my head would stop hurting. I turn off the computer and lay down again.
And find myself in a huge
conference room. A dance floor is set up, but nobody is dancing. I know that
I'm back in LA, back at Camp Hollywood, but where is everybody? I leave the
conference room to find the dancers I know must be here somewhere, but I only
find more empty conference rooms. Finally, I hear music coming from somewhere.
I follow it into yet another conference room, this one not empty, but instead
of lots of dancing couples I see only one solitary person on stage. The rest of
the room is full of empty tables and chairs. The person on stage looks like
Jeanelle Monae, but she's white, so I know it can't be her. Its Debra. And
she's killing it. I watch her finish her solo charleston act and shoot her a
thumbs up. She sees me and smiles. I leave.
And now I'm on the beach. I see
lights ahead and hear music, but Morgan appears along with Cat. "The
dancing is over there, Lauren. Over that dune." he says, pointing in
opposite direction. "Yeah, everybody is over there." Cat chimes in. I
eye them suspiciously and follow my gut. I go toward the music, rather than the
dunes. They follow.
I finally find everyone sitting on
bleachers set up in the sand around a huge campfire. On one side is another
dance floor, but again, nobody is dancing. I see Howard, who is always game to dance, and even he shakes
his head no. I put my hands out to warm them on the fire, feeling disappointed.
And wake up. I'm sweating. My
fever has finally broken. I guess its time to go dancing.
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