Dream a little dream

Ethan hates it when I tell him my dreams. First, they're usually the normal vague/surreal/alternative reality fare, and second, he is usually playing a distressed character that I have to rescue.

That, in itself, I find entertaining. He does not.

But last night I had a dream that I just had to tell him, despite his dislikes.

And now I have to tell you.

When I was in high school (or on break from college?), some friends and I took line dancing classes. It was fun and that was all. I proved that I have no real rhythmic talent, enjoyed the few classes anyway, and went on with my life. My life never, from that point forward, included line dancing.

That part is true.

But last night in my dream, my line-dancing friends and I were getting ready for some grandiose production. We were each assigned different colors of a garish, somewhat-resembling-Teletubbies outfit.   Kelly was blue, Carol was fuschia, and I was purple. We were rehearsing with the group. As usual, I was frustrated because I just *could not* get the steps right for the Electric Slide. They were hopping; I was turning. They stepped; I crossed my leg behind. It was humiliating.

But. The choreographer/step caller was in front, calling all of the steps. In order. Correctly. I don't mean he was calling them in what I assumed to be the correct order; I mean they were the real, true steps.

What does this mean? Somewhere in my subconscious, I do know all the steps to the Electric Slide. But somewhere else in my subconscious, I also know that *I* could never remember all those steps from so many years ago.

I know it. And I don't know it.

Absolutely riveting.

Now who wants to hear my dream about being in college when the Incredible Hulk had Ethan and I had to save him?