My wise friend the Sociologist a.k.a. the Mastermind behind Treehousekitchen asked me this question the other day and it gave me some serious thoughts to ponder. What would my perfect day be like? 5 years seems like a long time away but who knows, it might sneak up on me, unsuspecting and next thing you know, I’ll be bemoaning my 29th birthday.
I came up with this picture in mind. And perhaps it was part of a dream but to me, it seems vivid. Fluid. Like its another part of my life somewhere. Somehow.
***
I am sitting on a plush leather couch, latest model laptop (of course!) perched on my lap. I’m typing away at it, something business related but I can’t read any of the writing on the computer but deep down inside, I know that I manage a dance-related business. As I close the laptop and put it aside, I look down and I’m wearing this beautiful white shirt with dark ebony pants. My feet, clad in soft dance shoe leather, are perched on the glass tabletop. I look around the room.
Its one of those modern minimalistic design kind of penthouse apartments. Glass, metal, dark colours and muted shades everywhere. Pieces of artwork hang on the wall, most of what I’m not familiar with. The place hums quietly, the air-conditioning buzzing in the background and from the sound system, quiet jazzy Kenny G plays in lilting tones.
I turn towards the balcony and unlock the French doors. They ease back quietly, nothing quite breaking the hushed hallowed silence of the place. I step out and look out onto a shining cityscape. Millions of multicoloured lights sparkle in the distance like a nonsensical gathering of stars and solar systems and black holes and red dwarves and giants and all of that, reflected in the waters beneath. A warm, but not too warm, breeze whispers by.
“I’m ready.”
I turn around.
There is this woman who has just emerged from our bedroom. I have no idea who she is. I can’t see a face as it is all blurred as per usual for dreams I have that I’m not supposed to be able to identify people. Or maybe her features are clear but I have no idea who she is. Even if she was someone familiar, nothing came to mind.
She’s dressed in a midnight blue dress, one of those backless affairs with the straps that go around the neck. She’s wearing this gorgeous diamante necklace and her hair is half done up, half left to scatter a trail over the back of her neck. She looks beautiful. Well, what I can see of her, anyway. A light shawl is draped around her shoulders and she spins around for my benefit.
“How do I look, sweetie?”
Baby, you look absolutely gorgeous.
We kiss.
We get into a posh, luxury car and as I prepare to drive onto the highway, she puts her hand on top of mine that’s on the gearstick.
And we’re off into the night, another dance party as our destination.
***
I’ve been quite busy as of late and nothing’s really been happening. I’ve been dancing/working and the combo seems to have somehow screwed up my ability to blog. And tonight’s class has just been plain disappointing. I think I’m nearly losing all hope and sanity of ever teaching people to dance properly without looking like retards. Meh.
Night, y’all.
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