Erin dreamed.
She hadn't remembered the last time a dream wasn't a nightmare. It didn't matter. She knew it was a dream as soon as it started. She knew because she couldn't see. Only hear. A muffled conversation through white fog. One voice was hers, but the other... she couldn't make out the other...
Wanna dance?
It was Jordan. She could hear him before she could see him. Gray eyes shining in a half lit room. Hand out to her. Something goofy about him, always, even when he was serious.
The music came next. Light, bouncy strains of I Got Rhythm . Echoing off the walls.
Erin didn't say anything. She couldn't. Not in her dream. But she felt his hand. The words that came next were only half remembered. She couldn't hear them. Couldn't know them. Just the music... she could only hear the music.
I've got daisies in green pastures. I've got my gal, who can ask for anything more?
He moved her from the wall. He was warm. Warmer than she remembered. He looked differently, too. More illusive.
Mister trouble, I don't mind him. You won't find him 'round my door!
He spun her. Out and away. And she felt the room she couldn't see spin around her. She felt the music melting in and out of herself, becoming too loud to too soft and back again. She felt his hands welcome her back in. Her feet on a floor she wasn't sure was there.
They moved together. As one. As if they knew exactly what the other was doing... She fell against him, spun around him, went through legs and over his back and around and up and down and it was like flying. It was so much more.
You said that if I was a guy or you were a girl this wouldn't be a problem... but what if it would be? What if it's...
--Something more than that? It's possible.
They were waltzing now. She wasn't sure when the music had changed. When they had changed. But, somehow, that seemed to be the point. That they move as one. Dancing required a certain degree of trust. She had to trust herself to trust him and he had to handle her, and that trust, with respect. He did that, even here in her dream, clutching her tight enough to keep the dance moving, keep them together-- but not lewdly.
Erin's heart lifted from her chest. It jumped. It was like a Bugzby Berkley musical. She felt the smile, felt the press of his fingers on her side, felt his breath on the side of her face when they came together.
And then... Erin felt something entirely different. In her chest. Something she had never felt in this way. As if it were tearing her from the inside.. Connection. Burning. Need.
Love.
You know I'm never going to love you, Skirts, right? The words sounded different. They were his voice, his face, but he had never said them. They were her creation. Her fears. She destroyed everything. Even this dream.
I know. But I can pretend for awhile....
You'll get hurt.
I have before.
You'll push me away.
Maybe I won't. Maybe I can live with this the way it is... maybe I won't care...
Skirts....
Can't I pretend? Just for a little while?
You know how this ends.....
Just shut up and dance, Jor.
He spun her out and then back to him. Rocking her back and forth slowly in a dance that was more like a high school slowdance than a waltz. He breathed in her hair and she smelt that clean smell. That clean smell that was only Jordan.
I'll always hold out some hope. That you'll say it. That it'll happen. Erin breathed the words into his shirt. Whispered for herself as much as him. Her manifestation of him. It'll tear things apart eventually.
Something always is.
And that was when he kissed her. Or maybe she kissed him. But in the dream it wasnt' fast. It was long and lingering, deep and sweet. It was loving and unlike any kiss she had ever felt. It was electric. Burning. Tingling. It jerked her awake.
Erin awoke with tears on her cheeks. A smile on her face. And the mixture of a light and heavy heart. Soft steps took her across her room and she placed a record-- that Gershwin record-- on the player. The rest of the night would be spent in the dark. Listening. Dreaming. What might have been, what could be-- hopes and delusions.
She hadn't remembered the last time a dream wasn't a nightmare. It didn't matter. She knew it was a dream as soon as it started. She knew because she couldn't see. Only hear. A muffled conversation through white fog. One voice was hers, but the other... she couldn't make out the other...
Wanna dance?
It was Jordan. She could hear him before she could see him. Gray eyes shining in a half lit room. Hand out to her. Something goofy about him, always, even when he was serious.
The music came next. Light, bouncy strains of I Got Rhythm . Echoing off the walls.
Erin didn't say anything. She couldn't. Not in her dream. But she felt his hand. The words that came next were only half remembered. She couldn't hear them. Couldn't know them. Just the music... she could only hear the music.
I've got daisies in green pastures. I've got my gal, who can ask for anything more?
He moved her from the wall. He was warm. Warmer than she remembered. He looked differently, too. More illusive.
Mister trouble, I don't mind him. You won't find him 'round my door!
He spun her. Out and away. And she felt the room she couldn't see spin around her. She felt the music melting in and out of herself, becoming too loud to too soft and back again. She felt his hands welcome her back in. Her feet on a floor she wasn't sure was there.
They moved together. As one. As if they knew exactly what the other was doing... She fell against him, spun around him, went through legs and over his back and around and up and down and it was like flying. It was so much more.
You said that if I was a guy or you were a girl this wouldn't be a problem... but what if it would be? What if it's...
--Something more than that? It's possible.
They were waltzing now. She wasn't sure when the music had changed. When they had changed. But, somehow, that seemed to be the point. That they move as one. Dancing required a certain degree of trust. She had to trust herself to trust him and he had to handle her, and that trust, with respect. He did that, even here in her dream, clutching her tight enough to keep the dance moving, keep them together-- but not lewdly.
Erin's heart lifted from her chest. It jumped. It was like a Bugzby Berkley musical. She felt the smile, felt the press of his fingers on her side, felt his breath on the side of her face when they came together.
And then... Erin felt something entirely different. In her chest. Something she had never felt in this way. As if it were tearing her from the inside.. Connection. Burning. Need.
Love.
You know I'm never going to love you, Skirts, right? The words sounded different. They were his voice, his face, but he had never said them. They were her creation. Her fears. She destroyed everything. Even this dream.
I know. But I can pretend for awhile....
You'll get hurt.
I have before.
You'll push me away.
Maybe I won't. Maybe I can live with this the way it is... maybe I won't care...
Skirts....
Can't I pretend? Just for a little while?
You know how this ends.....
Just shut up and dance, Jor.
He spun her out and then back to him. Rocking her back and forth slowly in a dance that was more like a high school slowdance than a waltz. He breathed in her hair and she smelt that clean smell. That clean smell that was only Jordan.
I'll always hold out some hope. That you'll say it. That it'll happen. Erin breathed the words into his shirt. Whispered for herself as much as him. Her manifestation of him. It'll tear things apart eventually.
Something always is.
And that was when he kissed her. Or maybe she kissed him. But in the dream it wasnt' fast. It was long and lingering, deep and sweet. It was loving and unlike any kiss she had ever felt. It was electric. Burning. Tingling. It jerked her awake.
Erin awoke with tears on her cheeks. A smile on her face. And the mixture of a light and heavy heart. Soft steps took her across her room and she placed a record-- that Gershwin record-- on the player. The rest of the night would be spent in the dark. Listening. Dreaming. What might have been, what could be-- hopes and delusions.