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Thinking about sciel giving maelle the best battle wisdom.
Dan Day “Lightning Dance” (1978) Source
lightning dance by cecilia bengolea
[PLEASE REBLOG]
Dream Journal 2018-03-11: Lightning Dance
I’m in a giant dance hall with really high ceilings. There is a crowd of people here, with individuals of all ages and backgrounds present. Everyone is here to play a game called “Lightning Dance.”
The ceiling of the dance hall is either made of glass, or it’s some sort of giant screen that displays a video of a stormy sky. Whatever the ceiling is made out of, it more than fills up my entire field of view. I have to physically turn my body to see the other edge of the window/screen, that’s how big it is.
People are milling about on the dance floor, and the only light in the room is the dim bluish-purple light of night sky coming from the ceiling. The pale, highly-polished hardwood floor reflects what little light there is and makes the room seem just a little bit brighter. I’m wearing nice clothes, and everybody else appears to be dressed at a similar level to me. We’re all wearing stuff that might be seen at church or a high school dance.
Lightning flashes across the sky above us, and everyone rushes to secure a position on the dance floor. The lightning dance has begun!
Every time lightning flashes, lightning dancers must stomp their feet to match the visual rhythm of the lightning. We have until the sound of thunder washes over us to lock in the correct number of stomps. Somehow the floor is keeping track of who is correct and who isn’t. Those who are too slow or stomp the wrong number of times are eliminated and walk off the dance floor.
Soon the crowd on the dance floor has dwindled to a handful of people including me. A young girl with curly black hair and who looks to be no older than 7 years old is the one most likely to be the last dancer standing. She jumps and stomps seemingly without effort, while I’m just barely managing to keep time with the constant flashes of lightning.
I’m pretty sure the girl won, though, because this is where I woke up because a dog decided to bark in my ear. We’ll never know who the real winner was, but I’m smart enough to know when I need to concede a contest.
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Header image is of a performance by the Pacific Festival Ballet.
Lightning Dance - Wangan Midnight Maximum Tune 5 Soundtrack
Lightning Dance.
On the outskirts of town lay a small spot on the side of the road. There's nothing particularly special about this spot. It's not littered with trash, it's not surrounded by wondrous flowers or fairy circles. In fact, it smells faintly of manure from the ranch a few miles down the nearby country road.
On days like today I find myself at that spot late at night. Days that seem to extend forever. Days full of grey skies and humid air. I drive my run-down car along the back roads till I make it here, I turn the car off, my phone on silent and any electronics on me are off. I get out of the car and sit on the hood of the vehicle. And I listen.
On days like today I listen to wind rustling the grass around me. I watch the cliched tumbleweed make it's way across the darkened scenery. I strain my ears to find any sign of animals foraging for their next meal.
On days like today I'm still able to see the remnants of the evening's storm in the distance. A small perk to living in a completely flatland city. Lighting dancing among the clouds. The smell of rain still fresh in the air. I let my mind wander next to the storm . Far away from where I am. Leaving my body behind, I dream.
On nights like tonight Im dancing along the clouds. The lightning weaving around me as it rips through the sky. Doing what nature does best and creating ozone particles to protect itself from the sun. This is me. Ripping through the sky to help heal my mind and my body. Though, not to protect myself. To strengthen myself.
On nights like tonight I am whomever I wish to be. I am flying through the sky and across the seas. I am standing on the highest peak. I am singing in the darkest of caves.
On nights like tonight I am me and I am free.
