Marilyn: On Nightmares

She said, of Francisco Goya, "I know this man very well, we have the same dreams. I've had the same dreams since I was a child."

I've had this dream lately where life-in-the-dream-state appears to be normal, except for I know that something is off. And I'll lift up my shirt, or roll up the leg of my pants, and find that my body is turning into something else, something I don't recognize.  I'll wake up with a jolt, adrenaline racing, confused. I'm not sure if this is a dream or a nightmare, but I hate it regardless. I mention it because I can't seem to forget it, the fuzzy corners of it, and the sense that something perverse is hidden somewhere in the middle of it, which flavors the whole thing with an itchy, gruesome quality.

I mention it also because when I watch the below videos, I'm also not sure if I am watching a dream or a nightmare, and I wonder too about these fuzzy corners, and that long, drawn out ooohhhhhhhhhhhhh----

Cyd Charisse: Putting the Gold in Golden Age

Baby, if I'm your White Rabbit for the day then you are in for a treat that has nothing to do with the Mad Hatter, although there are men and hats involved. Follow this tail to freedom because I am about to send you down a virtual hole of Cyd Charisse goodness that makes me reminisce for a time when there was such a thing as the "resident MGM ballet dancer" and underlines this fact that sits at the center of what I love about dance:

Nobody can do you like you can.

So cheers to style, to having a stamp, to being a chameleon without ever losing yourself, and to legs. Cheers to legs.

And I'll end by quoting Fred Astaire: "That Cyd! When you've danced with her you stay danced with."

Enjoy.