Dreaming Flamenco

79e9ac350aa6b264b2c7e5a825f597b5For those of us devout in our love of flamenco, there is no place off limits for a spontaneous round of palmas or zapateado. We are addicted to flamenco and it infects every part of our lives. For me, it goes one step further- flamenco invades my sleep!

Yes, the time my brain should be resting and my body at ease, I am flailing around the bed, kicking my feet like I am putting on quite the show. Every now and again, I have vivid dreams that I recall perfectly. In most of them, I am a flamenco bad ass, doing the most amazing footwork and my body moving with such force and precision!

One dream a few months ago was very different. It plays out a little something like this:

The day is sunny and a crisp springtime feel is in the air of a large park filled with people. It appears to be some sort of festival or fair. The park has gentle hills that people are sitting and picnicing on. In the middle is an open grass area. I stand looking out over all the park visitors and see my family, my flamenco teachers, and my fellow flamenco classmates among the crowd. Suddenly, I feel nervous but cannot pinpoint why.

My fears are soon confirmed as I hear a familiar voice speaking over a microphone. It is one of my Flamenco Louisville teachers announcing an on-the-spot dance contest to see who could best remember the solea por bulerías routine we are currently learning! There are hundreds of people watching. When it is my turn, I freeze and forget everything. I keep going with random moves because one of my teachers from the crowd is yelling at me, “don’t stop, don’t stop.” (Side note here: one of my hang-ups is that I stop dead cold when I blank instead of continuing with a slow move or a purposeful pause in which to regroup myself).

Classmates are calling out what to do but it doesn’t help. The judge is a faceless, but apparently famous, dancer from Spain who is offering the opportunity to go study with her in Spain to the winner! No pressure! I stand there trying to remember the choreography. Nothing. I am so mad and upset…I know this!

What finally stops this torturous dream is my butt hitting the wood floor as I fall out of bed. I wake up, startled and dazed, and immediately remember the routine!

Moral of the story; dance like nobody is watching, even in your dreams!

 

 

 

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3 thoughts on “Dreaming Flamenco

  1. I love this story, and the moral of the story is the best part. You wrapped it up like a good tortilla! Thanks for sharing. It’s amazing what we do in our dreams, huh? Keep on dancing…like nobody is watching. Duende informs, transforms, but never performs. My singing teacher would always offer a chance for us to “perform”, but she’d call it “transformances”. Form is always in the word. ha ha…I just looked up the Latin origin of “per” and it just means “through” like in Spanish “por”…through form we dance. “Trans” means “across” as in “through”, so they are really the same in language…but I suspect “trans” adds an element of something moving from one point to another so you end in a different place. Okay, I’m not getting into my own thing. Just find it interesting. Ole! And keep on dancing in your sleep and beyond!

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