Dreams give us the ability to experience what we know may never come true.
Late at night, after the kids are tucked in bed and fast asleep, after the laundry is done, after the dishes are washed, and the bills are paid, she wanders into her bedroom and sets her phone on the dresser. She removes from the back of a drawer something she’d bought once, years ago when her dreams might have had a chance, when there were opportunities on the horizon, before reality dragged her to a place she never imagined.
She puts on the costume of something she never was then reaches over, plays her favorite song, starts the video recorder, and begins to dance for someone she’s never known. Giving a brief yield to her latent desire, she dances for someone who cares, someone she can trust, someone who values who she is, a person who won’t beat her into submission, a friend who won’t betray her, the one who says, “I love you,” without reservation.
She imagines the lights. She feels the smoke. For a moment, she is not in the dingy, cramped 8×8 bedroom. She pours what little energy she has left into the voluptuous ballet she imagines, the private choreography intended only for the eyes of that one soul, the one person who has never let her down. She feels free. For three minutes and 47 seconds, she slowly turns and dances, and dreams of seducing someone who she has never known.
Then, as the final strains of Eden’s “Dirty Blonde” fade into the quiet night, she turns off the video and deletes it from her phone. She puts on a faded t-shirt and the closest pair of sweatpants she can find. Turning off the light, she goes to bed dreaming of a different life; one where she is loved.