shanmonster | The Dream

I'm at a restaurant with a few dancers to see the first public performance of another dancer. She is the student of another teacher, and sits at my table, anxious to begin. She's wearing an apricot-coloured costume and is nervous. When her music starts, she gets up and begins dancing. Her dancing is very bad. She only has the barest rudiments of the dance down, and is doing sloppy hip circles and jerky shimmies. Then she gets a mischievous look on her face and, much to my dismay, reaches up and starts unbuttoning her top. I signal "No, no!" to her, but she gives me a pigheaded glance and continues taking her top off. She's wearing a tiny little bra top underneath.

I communicate with her using telepathy. "Don't do this," I say. "This dance is not about stripping. You're in a family restaurant, and you'll give yourself as well as the other dancers a bad reputation."

"I don't care," she says, and reaches down to take off her hip scarf.

"People are going to think you're free and available. They'll be harassing you."

"No, they won't. They know I'm a dancer, not a slut."

I say, "Since you won't stop, you can never take dance classes with me."

"I wouldn't want to, anyway." And with that, she cuts me off and won't talk to me anymore. She continues stripping off while doing an ugly parody of the dance, and when she's through writhing around in just a sequined g-string, she walks to the bathroom to get dressed. She is followed by about fifteen redneck men of questionable hygiene and a dominatrix wearing a leather ball cap. They are all propositioning and pawing her, and at first, she tells them to back off, and when they don't, she begins to panic. I rush in to help her, screaming at the people to leave her alone, but the whole time, I know she's brought this on herself. Then I wake up.