I have heard it said that our dreams betray us. Every time I listen to the waltzes of Tchaikovsky or Strauss I have a dream that comes back to me. I imagine myself dressed once more in my ‘dress blues’, complete with medals and sword. My shoulders are wider while my waist is smaller. I am in the center of an immense ballroom lit with enormous crystal chandeliers. In my arms is a woman who looks suspiciously like my wife in a dress very similar in color to the one she wore to a certain junior prom so many years ago. We move confidently and gracefully around the floor having it solely to ourselves while people watch and smile. I am so happy I might as well be in heaven.
I can’t waltz; I can barely dance at all. Graceful, dashing, slim? Not descriptive at all. And yet, in my dreams, I hope there is a ballroom in heaven for I will dance and I already know my partner.