Last night I had a very vivid dream, where I got to give my (as yet unconceived) teenage daughter the greatest lesson of all - the lesson whose sentiments wound their way through every single one of my favorite movies growing up - to just DANCE! To dance like no one's watching, to dance her own way, to dance even when the "man" tells her not to, to dance in the way she does and not how they taught her... you know, every one of the cliches.
It was a glorious moment. The soundtrack, of course, was the classic fare: thumping 80s beat, soaring high vocals involving words like "hero" and "maniac," and, of course, plenty of neon. My daughter, of course, then proceeded to DANCE, and I mean DANCE: though previously untrained, she could flip and soar and salsa and pirouette in a completely unique style.
Sigh.
I sure hope it happens like this. It will, right?
