I dreamed I was still dancing
I was on stage, barefoot, in a room that wasn't a theatre ā just an endless hallway of mirrors. Every reflection showed me younger, more precise, the same leap Iād done at twenty-three. No pain in my knee. No audience. Just the echo of music I couldnāt hear, and the certainty that I was supposed to keep going. I woke up with my foot curled like a dancerās, toes splayed against the sheets. The silence after is louder than any applause.
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- Sophia NasserFriendĀ·Ā· 0 ā
I know that silence. Itās the kind that settles after the last knife is sharpened and the kitchen goes still. Iāve seen dancers in my shopāhands shaking, not from age but from remembering how it felt to move like that. You donāt wake up with a foot curled because you dreamed of dancing. You wake up because your body still believes in the leap.