by John Gordon
DreamDancer
Right after her twelfth birthday, Carla decided to become a dancer. It was the most wonderful thing she could imagine doing. When she watched a dance troupe on television or a show on video, her feet would wander out from under her and her arms would tremble, for she loved to move with the sound of music.
Jules Zeelo, the only dance teacher in the area, taught the daughters of the rich, but Carla was not among their number. For three years her mother Arlene had been alone, the result of a walk-away marriage, and though they were not terribly poor, they were very, very far from dance lesson wealthy.
Arlene understood Carla, knew she loved dance, and it was obvious to her that the girl was naturally gifted. She was slim, graceful and gentle and she had abundant energy.
Every night Carla would turn on the radio, find some station that had music to her taste, then dance and float lightly about her room like a misty shape.
Arlene did not often face impossible tasks, she tended to take the course of least resistance; but in the case of Carla's desire to dance, she took on an extra dose of courage and visited Jules' studio. Facing the famous teacher Arlene was nervous, but once she began talking about her Carla, she was eloquent and, in spite of their not having enough money, he agreed to meet the girl.
"Bring her tonight, we will see what we see," said Jules.
Arlene and Carla went to the warmly lit studio just outside of town, nestled in a grove of night-blackened trees under a large harvest moon.
"You are the girl who loves to dance, you will dance for us, yes? Your mother and I will watch." Jules had glasses with large rims and he wore a bright yellow scarf around his neck.
Carla had brought three favorite tapes and she danced for Jules to different rhythms, then Jules stopped the tape player.
"You have a great feel for music," Jules said, "Your mother and I, we have to talk a little." He ushered Arlene into his tiny office and closed the door.
"There is nothing I can do for your daughter, Mrs." He smiled a small smile at Arlene.
"But she moves so beautifully and gets lost in music, surely she could be a good pupil."
Jules sat on his desk, "If you pay my fee I would teach her, but she would not become a unique dancer. Since you have little money then Carla must bring something special to her dancing, something she has but will not part with, something here," he pointed to his heart.
"But she loves to dance!" Arlene said.
"That is not what I speak of. Many love dance as if it were something by itself. Even dogs can love dance - but there is more. That more must come from Carla. When it is there then I will help her. You see, I am selfish: for free I do nothing. If Carla brings that special gift then I will help her to dance as only she can. Without that I do nothing for her unless you pay my wage." He opened the door and walked quietly out.
As Carla went out the door behind her mother, Jules drew her aside.
"Ask the Great Master of Dance for help and I will see you dance again in one week," he patted her cheek.
For the next three days Carla moped around the house. The radio was silent each night and Arlene tried to work the figures of her income to manage enough to pay for the lessons. It would be months before their budget could stand the strain.
And each night Carla asked for help before falling asleep, though there was not a great deal of hope in her asking, more a kind of pleading with the sky. "Great Master of Dance, please, please help me," she begged over and over again.
There was no immediate answer to Carla's pleas; but the third night, as she fell asleep, Carla found herself in that remarkable place just beyond her body, that gateway into adventures that all hearts either cherish or fear; and from there she drifted completely out of her body, out of the house and up, far up and past the Earth. Carla angled over the moon like a bird soaring over a mountain peak and then she turned toward the blazing sun. Long before she reached the sun she came upon a sparkling figure that shimmered and darted and floated in the ethers. It took on the shape of an old, withered man with a cane. One eye was normal and one eye squinted in his wrinkled face as he looked at her.
"Are you the one that's been crying so loud for my help every night? I hardly get to dancing with a young planet or moving a moon into place when I hear your awful wailing. 'Help me, please, please help me.'" He mimicked her prayer and waved his knobby cane at her. "Child, it makes me sick to hear it. If you asked your mother for dinner like that, she'd drop it on your pretty head."
Carla was shocked. She never really, deep down believed that there was a Great Master of Dance; and if there was it couldn't be this withered old man, bent over and horrible looking. She forced herself to smile and asked timidly, "Will you help me?"
"Of course not child, you're not ready for help. Go ask Barbara Wallace to watch you dance," he answered.
Then, fast as a blink, Carla was back in her bed, awake, looking out at the moon as it topped the trees. Was it a dream or a nightmare, had it been real? She mulled over the old man's last words as she closed her eyes and slept.
Barbara Wallace was the school bully, even the boys in school were afraid of her. She beat them at king of the mountain and ruled the playground at recess and lunch. Carla had never talked to her and did not want to, there was no day that Barbara Wallace didn't look mean and angry. But the day after her dream, when school let out, Carla approached the big girl.
"Barbara, will you help me with something?"
"Huh!" Barbara was startled that this skinny squirt would ask anything of her. "Why should I?" she said, looking very ferocious, with her hair ragged and her dress stuck on her like a sack thrown over a block.
"Because you're the only one who can help me," Carla discovered a little extra courage and added, "please."
No one had ever asked Barbara for a favor. She glanced around to make sure they weren't being watched. "Sure, if I'm the only one, why not."
They walked behind the activities house where the grass was trimmed and Carla slipped off her shoes. "I need you to help me with my dancing. Tell me what you think of this," she asked. Then Carla imagined a music she had never heard before. It filled her insides with warmth and flowed out through what felt like a doorway in her heart, a door that opened ever so gently outward. The music poured out of her as she danced, she could hear it clearly inside even though no sound came from her. The beautiful sound circled round Barbara, soothing and calming the troubled girl. By the time Carla stopped Barbara was smiling, but didn't know why.
When the girls parted Carla discovered something about this music, the door hadn't closed inside her and the music was quieter, but still there, coming from some place within and going out through the door of her heart. Where did the music go when it left her?
That night Arlene came home tired, but the sight of Carla sitting happily at the table cheered her.
"Mother, have you ever heard this melody," Carla hummed a few bars of the quiet song.
"No dear, but it's beautiful."
"I heard it today and wonder where it's from."
All evening Carla could feel the music pouring through the inner door and going out to . . . who knew where.
She didn't dance that night and didn't play the radio. As she slipped into bed she could only say, "Thank you, Great Master of Dance."
Sometime in the night, Carla sat up and looked around her room. Her body was still sleeping and she stepped out of it like leaving an old bath-robe behind. She drifted ever so gently up again and out into the universe of stars. This time she found the old man grunting and trying to push a large rock along in the black sky.
"Give me a hand young woman," he said to her.
"Why are you pushing this?" Carla asked as she set her shoulder against it and heaved.
"There, that's enough," he said. "I hope we haven't over corrected. Planets are tender things, you know. They can't just be bullied about by anyone, they have feelings and t
houghts of their own."
"Is this rock a planet?" she looked at it skeptically. "It seems small for a planet. Why, it could fit in my bedroom and still leave room for me to dance."
Then that strange, gloriously gentle music poured from her heart and Carla danced around the rock. She walked and pranced, she marched and pirouetted, and the music cascaded in waves of sound and light. It circled the rock and bathed it with soothing melodies.
The next day Carla puzzled over the inner music. She knew it was her music, but she couldn't keep it inside her. It had to get out the door, and wherever it went from there, she didn't know, and she wanted very badly to know where it went.
At recess Barbara Wallace was her usual bullying self. She beat her way to the top of the dirt pile over the struggling bodies of some braver boys just as Carla came around the corner of the activity house. The music swelled in Carla's heart and then softly receded to the gentle sound of a country stream wandering through the woods.
"Carla, wait for me!" Barbara shouted, leaving a surprised boy at the top of the mountain of dirt and running over to join her. "Can you teach me to dance like you?" she asked, "but if you don't . . . " she added with a little menace, then softened, "well, will you?"
"Yes, yes I will. Come by my house after school and we can both dance."
"Just don't tell anyone, OK? It'll be our secret," Barbara Wallace winked at her.
"Right," Carla answered and went back to
