Theatre Under the Tent

The nights were humid as the summer's haze coated our skins under the tent as we all fell asleep.  I no longer feared to dream without a blanket, as that was not an option.  Also, I became eager to welcome the performance of the spiders with no reservations.  They pranced like ballerinas on their stilted bent legs starting off with plié (without jumping), including the tendu.  It was interesting how they remained balanced upside down being fluid and graceful as their bodies were grey-brown tutus.  They circled each other as the reflection from my flashlight was their spotlight.  I was careful not to move like a loyal patron of the arts afraid any jolt will frighten them away.  How grateful I was that they never fell on my face. Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev (famous ballet composers) and many others would of been extremely proud of their eloquent European movements.  Thank goodness! I no longer had anxiety of the spiders.  How amazing my fears magically disappeared as I lay motionless like a stiff corpse. Showtime was as usual, the actors and actresses climbed from their places appearing exactly after midnight.  Obviously, I had the best seat in the house while my camp mates quietly slept.  I had no idea and could careless how these creatures of nature entered the tent.  Overall, I was grateful for the silent lullaby performances that never failed by peacefully putting me to sleep.