I’d like to take you on another journey into the world of imagination, if I may be so bold. Make sure your expectations are ready for this, as it may well just blow your brainbox out of your noggin.
Think of the greatest dance your tiny mind can possibly fathom, then multiply its coolness by a factor of approximately 1.28 billion. There you have a near-exact measurement of how utterly cool the imaginary dance was that this person – who is all in your head – would be doing. Think of moving like a raptor, bobbing the head like an inquisitive sparrow, making some fabulous down-pointing jazz hands and walking about like Hunter S Thompson. That’s as close a description as you could get to this fabled dance. If you were to see it, your eyes would explode with delight and your heart would exit through your mouth, ready to travel the world and tell everyone of what it had experienced.
But it isn’t a dance alone that could make this scene, no. For a dance to be real – for it to have more than just a passing resemblance to a series of rhythmic spasms it needs music. So imagine the above-described dance set to the wonderful, unforgettable signature tune of Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes. Don’t know it by mention? Observe (with your ears):
For the third section of imagining, you will need to picture the person (or thing) carrying out this dance, to this music, saying something along the lines of “it would look strange if someone walked in now”. This line would have to immediately be followed by the door to the room this is all taking place in opening, and a befuddled old woman popping her head around the corner before exclaiming “oh! This is the wrong room!” You would then have to imagine the people in the room – both dancer and their accomplice – laughing so hard they cried.
Hard as it may be to believe, this imaginary land was actually my bedroom about an hour ago, the fabled dance/song/interruption-after-stating-how-weird-an-interruption-would-be were all very, very real and – most shockingly of all – the person carrying out the wonderful dance wasn’t myself. She is Swiss, and claims never to dance. We now have two people who have seen her doing that which she claims not to do.
All together now: doo do doo do do do doo do doo do do do do do do do doo doo, do do do do do do do do do doo doo do do do do do do…