Long Hollow

I experienced another dream come true Friday night, one I had given up on long ago, and I owe it all to a tall, bearded stranger in a red sweater.

No, it wasn't Santa. This tall stranger's name was Phil (or Bill…the music was loud and my hearing isn't what it used to be!) Phil/Bill needed someone to dance with, and I just happened to be at the right place at the right time, on the edge of the empty dance floor, probably tapping my foot as I studied the drummer of this amazing rocking, funky, blues-y band, Seventh Sun.

(No photos because of the camera fiasco last week; I didn't feel like lugging around my zoom lens. But click on their name to check out the website and hear a sample of their music. The photo below is from their website.)

Tom and I were at a company Christmas party – an annual event hosted by one of Tom's old bosses, Al. It's a reunion for Tom…he gets to reconnect with past coworkers from his first job in Austin, at a small engineering company.

Al knows how to throw a party…there's always a lot of food, but best of all, a live band, usually Relentless Jones;  one of the ex-coworkers is a member.

They're great, but for some reason they weren't available this year, so we were introduced to Seventh Sun. No compaints! They're a relatively new band, but they were awesome!

So back to my dream..

On countless Saturday nights, years ago when I was single, I would stand wistful on the edge of various dancefloors, envious of the women twirling round and round and round. My boyfriend was a solid two-stepper, but not a 'twirler'. Same with Tom, and since I expected him to be my main dance partner for the rest of my life, I let go of that twirling dream.

I've also never been very good at jitterbugs or 'swings', so last night when Phil/Bill swung me around, I apologized and told him I just wasn't good at it.

"You're a good dancer! Just don't step out so far and you'll be able to twirl."

Twirl? Did he say 'twirl'? So I tried it.

And I twirled.

And twirled. 

And twirled.

Round and round and round I went (I felt like a ballerina!) then he pulled me back, twirled himself around, twirled me around some more, and then we slid smoothly back into a quick two-step.

Sigh.

Dream come true.

Obviously, there are no expiration dates on dreams.