books & dance

I was back in West End, staying in one of the houses in which I used to live. I had borrowed lots of books and it was time to return them. The sun was setting and the darkness encroached. I sorted through the books and selected the ones that were to be returned, packed them in the car, and drove across town. Up in the hills of a close-by suburb, I visited a bar where I stopped for a while. I cannot remember what I had or who I spoke to, but soon it was time to go. I had a sense that my mother was urging me home.

Next, I was with a friend and we were dancing. We were in the middle of a basic dance floor and there were people casually observing us - not a formal audience, just passers by. I placed both my little fingers gently on the outer edges of his hands as we moved about the space. He said it was time to sing a particular song and I initially objected as I didn't know it at all. He assured me that when the music started, we would find our way. He turned on the music and I began to sing, following a word sheet that appeared before my eyes. I wondered why he didn't sing but I continued none-the-less. I noticed that the people who had been watching had drifted away and I laughed that we must not have been very entertaining. The space in which we were dancing shrank and we found ourselves in the garage of my family home. I bowed out from the dance and went upstairs.