Inhaling Alongside You✔️

Chapter Thirty-One: When She Dreams

"What's a dancer without music?" He asks, glancing into the water fountain, his curls flowing along the wind.

Inhaling Haveyhurst as well as pausing for contemplation, I glance into the fountain as well before answering.

"A dancer with no music, is still a dancer" I simply reply.

He swirls his sender fingers into the water, the ripples morphing our reflection.

"And why is the dancer still a dancer, even without music?" He questions, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

Mirroring him, I turn my gaze into the sky for a split second before giving my full attention to Michael.

"Music doesn't define a dancer. Music defines the dance. But still, the dancer is the music. Dancers and music are just like lovers. Even if lovers are apart from each other, they still love each other, and are therefor still lovers"

"Still lovers? So are you a dancer?"

I nod, looking into the heavens.

"I was born a dancer. I am the dance that the music creates. I am the lover and music and I are lovers"

"That was beautifully put Jess. The same goes for us. No matter how far apart we are and no matter where we go, I will always be yours and you will always be mine. Just like the dancer and the music" He concludes.

"Just like the dancer and the music" I repeat.

I'm the dancer and he's my music, nothing can set us apart.....

Screams, chants, howls all for him. His body driven, his soul captured. He's mesmerizing, a sight for sore eyes, obsolete. One snap of his finger, and you're caught beneath his spell. One moan of musical ecstasy, and you're trapped within his world of musical woes. No denying. No fabricating. This is his magic. This is the magic that one day will surely surpass onto me.

I've had weeks to ponder. I've had weeks to heal. I've had weeks to cry, cringe and fall beneath my own self inflicted pressure. Shall I become a diamond or a busted pipe? I chose to become a diamond.

My body still weary, managed to fight through the pain as I regain my strength. My motivation, him. Each night I watch him perform I whisper to myself "That's me. That will be me" He is my means of motivation, catapulting the mental, physical and emotional support I need to venture into my soul and rediscover my desire. Because of him, I have rediscovered my desire to dance.

The fire once was a flame damned to be smudged into darkness, but he lifted me. "No, get up babygirl. Try again" He whispered. Looking into his soulful eyes I knew the pain he held was overpowered by the passion he felt in trudging through this journey alongside me. When our eyes would separate, my fear deprecated into the atmosphere of hope. I've returned, stronger than ever.

"That was great Jess. It really was" Michael compliments, clapping as I return to a regular mountain phase.

It's finally the twentieth. The day I've marked on my kitten calendar and shivered. I didn't shiver in fright, but of enthusiasm. My shiver comes from the shedding of my exoskeleton. No longer will I shudder away from my dream. Jesse Rose Edmond has been relieved of her old tenders.

Flustered by my sample recital of A Midsummer Nights Dream, I reach for my refreshing bottle of water.

A Midsummer Nights Dream is a personal favourite if mine. As a kinder, I would watch countless footage of my mother performing the very ballet. The way her willowy body floated into the arms of her partner as he directed her into simple turns.