Dreaming & Dancing by Brittany Morgan

I would give anything to be out there, she thought, gazing out at the right corner of the field. Although the chaos of football, cheering crowds, and band music demanded her attention, she frequently found herself studying the synchronized dance steps that were taking place to the right of her. It was that very moment, early into her freshman year, that she recognized her dream of dancing for the university’s dance team. Nothing could have prepared her for how quickly the leaves would turn…

On an April morning, she walked into the gymnasium where dance try-outs were being held and found a deserted corner where she could sit and stretch. As she challenged her muscles, her eyes wandered. Suddenly, she was very aware of her competition. The longer she watched others, the more she questioned her abilities. She sat, unconsciously biting the dry skin on her lip, unaware that she was no longer stretching. She appeared to be in a trance of disappointment.

Calmly, she rose to her feet and walked out of the double doors leading to freedom. Paranoid that others were watching her and snickering, she thought, for all they know, I’m leaving to go to the restroom. As the doors slammed behind her, she dropped her head in shame. The lump in her throat grew urgent yet she refused to let tears fall from her eyes. The past six months have encompassed endless hours of practice, sweat, frustration, and feelings of pride and accomplishment, she thought. Were they all for nothing? An overwhelming sense of failure momentarily took her breath away. Yearning for shelter, she put one foot in front of the other and headed for home. As she stepped over the curb to cross the street, she twisted her ankle and went plunging face first towards the concrete.

Just as her nose was about to slam into the hot tar, she jolted awake to find herself laying in the comfort of her own bed. Her body felt warm and sticky, and she was tangled in a knot of blankets. She unwrapped herself from the mess of covers and rested her head back on her pillow. She had a bad feeling, as if she’d had an unpleasant dream. However, she could not quite remember what it had entailed. Turning her head to the right, she was shocked to see the digital clock read 1:04 A.M. in electric blue numbers. She was sure that it was almost time to get up for the day. She rolled over in bed to reclaim a comfortable position and drifted off to sleep.

6:30 A.M. came quickly, and unlike ordinary mornings, her finger did not meet the snooze button. She shut off her alarm and sat up in bed. She had to be at the gymnasium at 8:00 sharp for check-in, so there was no time to waste. It was 7:42 when she threw a bottle of water into her backpack and headed out the door. She was prepared. She had eaten a healthy breakfast. She had gotten at least eight and a half hours of sleep. Her white polo shirt was freshly ironed and matched perfectly with her black and white athletic wind shorts. She had even allowed herself 20 minutes to practice her dance steps. Yet, something was wrong. As she walked down the sidewalk towards the gym, she tried to shake the uneasy feelings that consumed her. As of the night before, she felt good about try-outs and held her head with confidence. Get a hold of yourself, she thought, everything will be just fine. If she wouldn’t have been so caught up in talking herself out of a panic, maybe she would have seen the curb of the street coming.