I dreamed a dream in days gone by…

Published by Erica on

Once up on a time, a little girl saw ballerinas twirling on stage in a performance of “The Nutcracker.” That girl left the show and told her mom, that’s what I want to do. I’m going to be a ballerina. And so for the next 6 years, the little girl practiced and learned, and began to be a ballerina. She knew she wasn’t the best, but she loved to dance and knew that deep inside of her was a beautiful dancer just waiting to emerge.

Then one day, the little girl, who wasn’t quite so little anymore, moved away to a new city. Gone was her studio with her talented ballet teacher. Gone was the chance to perform on pointe for the first time ever… moves never come at good times. The little girl, who was not so little, found new kinds of dance to work on. She joined the dance team and brought some sparkle to the football field and basketball court. Then one day, her knee went one way while she went the other, and her dancing came to an abrupt halt. Her walking wasn’t that great either, actually. For the next 7 or so months she was Hop-along Cassidy, even though she did start dancing with her team again. As she went away to college, she sighed and let a tear slide, thinking that her dancing days had come to a close.

Fortunately for the little girl, who was not so little, she was going to college in a place that had lots of dancing of all different kinds! Her very first college class ever ever was a modern dance class. And before the first week of class was over, she was on a folk dance team, whatever that was. The next three years of her life were filled with dances from around the world– Hungary, India, Germany, Ireland, China, America, Mexico, Phillipines, Russia, Syria, Ukraine, Bulgaria, Java, Romania, Slovakia, Korea, Argentina, Greece, Macedonia, Israel, Puerto Rico, Japan, Lithuania, Italy, Scotland, Canada, Sweden, Croatia, Turkey, Poland, Spain, Afghanistan ……… sometimes she couldn’t keep track of all the places she knew dances from. She loved to do all these different dances, but she never entirely left behind the ballerina. She took ballet classes too, never feeling quite so at home as the day the teacher used the same music she practiced to in her studio in Pennsylvania.

The little girl decided that dance was truly for her, maybe even as more than a hobby. She worked hard and auditioned to get a Master’s degree in ballet. It didn’t work out so well, with 5 years of rust making her muscles less flexible than when she was a teenager. But she knew that she had more fun auditioning than anyone else did, and that was enough to make her happy. She found footwork groups to participate in, and was thrilled by the exciting prospect of touring internationally with them. Then the little girl went to see the ballet– the Royal Ballet School of London. They were so beautiful she wanted to cry as she watched them. Once again she felt the ballerina deep inside her dancing with the real dancers on stage. She realized that her ballerina deep inside would never be able to dance with her for real, for her body was too restrictive and old to change into what it needed to be. With a smile, she thought excitedly of when her inner ballerina wouldn’t be tied down with a physical body riddled with aches, pains, injuries, and limitations.

She closed her eyes, a smile on her face. On the stage of her imagination, her beautiful ballerina performed exquisitely, perfection flowing through each movement. One day we’ll dance together, she whispers to herself, slowly drifting into dreams of tutus, roses, and grande jetes.

Categories: Uncategorized


Erica · February 12, 2009 at 7:06 am

I feel bad that no one commented on my story. I liked it very much. Good practice in creative non-fiction, to an extent.

Helena · August 23, 2010 at 2:22 pm

Beautiful. So beautiful.

Suzy Myers · August 23, 2010 at 6:31 pm

Very nice.


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