The audience converse in hushed voices, patiently awaiting the beginning of the ballet. As the interior lights dim and the audience sits on the edge of their seats, the excitement in the air becomes palpable. The curtains open revealing a stage lit up in a light blue.

I listen as the first notes of Tchaikovsky’s sweet music flow from the speakers. Slowly, I take a few steps forward, until I am at the edge of the wing and a step from the stage. Upon the musical cue, I emerge onto stage. Almost immediately, I feel the desire to dance rise up inside and I begin to move.

Whenever I dance on stage I feel like my soul finally has a voice. As I let the music, the lights and the adrenaline wash over me, my smile flashes brighter. I feel as if I am ten feet tall. Nothing could stop the momentum and deluge of movement I have given in to.

But suddenly, my step falters, my feet slip out from under me, and pull me downward. My world moves into slow motion as the stage suddenly transforms before my shocked eyes. The lights become overwhelming, blinding me with their glare, the audience snickers loudly, their voices ring out over the delicate music that now sounds like nails on a chalkboard. I feel weightless and lost, as if I’m somewhere outside my body, until finally, I hit the stage floor with a resounding thud.

I open my eyes as relief washes over me. It was only a dream.

I find myself constantly reliving dreams like this. It is something that haunts me frequently, and evidently, a large fear for my conscious. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe, I should just stop drinking coffee after nine pm.

- Chloe

Chloe Montgomery, Brandywine Ballet Theater and Certificate in Ballet Candidate