The General Dance

The choices I make puzzle people. A woman, who watches over me, clutches her favorite book called "Reality." It conveys in plain prose the truths of daylight reality, its thesis being there is no other viable reality in which human beings can prosper. It is so committed to its thesis that the book shuts itself at twilight and remains dormant until dawn has scoured the last fringe of darkness from the roof of the world. "It's a Smart Book, " she tells me. "It knows when a new threat appears. And it takes action. Isn't that reassuring? " I nod my head, not wanting to be seen by this sentient book. Another woman, closer to me in age but less in character, chides me, "It's unnatural to love the Night with such passion. The Night is simply the realm of Darkness, it is at war with the Light." She pauses and searches my face for agreement. "The Light will prevail, " she says with Sarastro-like calm. "Those who hide in darkness will be discovered, and...." She does not finish. She turns away from me into an empty space, I am negated. I know this gesture, she means the Light is everyone's story, it fills the air we breathe with its familiar triumph, but it is stale air to me. I crave something new, or at least renewed. I keep my face hollow, revealing nothing within. More people arrive, more like-minded people. They cluster in small groups across the square, preparing for The General Dance. It is ten in the morning. The sun shines down on the orchestra and assembled citizens. The familiar strains of Ravel's DAPHNIS AND CHLOE summons people to their daylight brilliance, and they surrender to the music's wild wonder, and dance with high steps and sheer abandon. I cannot resist the rhythms and join them in a paroxysm of delight.