As a retired cheerleader, I often have this recurring nightmare where I’m fully put together in my cheer uniform: bow, sneakers, and drag makeup, about to compete in front of thousands of people. I’m standing in formation on stage, sweating my buns off because, in this dream, I never actually learned the routine. Suddenly, the music starts, everyone’s dancing, tumbling and stunting in sync, and there I am, looking as clueless as Gretchen Weiners during the Jingle Bell Rock dance after that last minute formation change. YIKES!
