There are goals that I have, and then I dream of it, and then I

Host: The gymnasium was quiet now — the kind of quiet that feels earned. Chalk dust still floated through the air like the ghosts of motion, catching the last light that poured through the high windows. The mats were scuffed, the balance beam gleamed with sweat and persistence, and in the far corner, a single speaker hummed softly, replaying a song that had carried a thousand routines to their final breath.

The world outside was still, but inside, time lingered — holding its breath on the edge of perfection.

Jack sat on the edge of the floor mat, his hands folded, forearms powdered faintly with chalk, watching the last traces of light fall across the uneven bars. His grey eyes were quiet but alive, the way someone looks when they’ve just seen something greater than themselves.

Jeeny stood near the mirror wall, hair pulled back, hands still trembling slightly from exertion. Her face glistened, not from effort alone, but from something deeper — that wild mix of exhaustion and wonder that only comes after giving your all.

Jeeny: softly, still catching her breath “Simone Biles once said, ‘There are goals that I have, and then I dream of it, and then I make it a reality. If I could crawl out of my skin and see it, it would be really amazing.’”

Jack: looking up, smiling faintly “Crawl out of her skin, huh? That’s... unsettling.”

Jeeny: laughs softly “Not when you think about it. It’s what every dreamer wants — to see yourself from the outside, to finally witness the thing you became.”

Jack: leaning back on his hands “Or to see if the thing you became is actually worth all the pain.”

Jeeny: tilts her head, watching him “You think that’s what she meant?”

Jack: after a pause “Maybe. You push yourself so far, so high, so relentlessly... you start wondering what it looks like from outside the struggle.”

Jeeny: nodding softly “But that’s the miracle, isn’t it? You never get to watch your own greatness in real time. You only live it — one bruise, one fall, one try at a time.”

Host: The light dimmed, and for a moment, the room seemed to glow only with the pale haze of chalk — a constellation of effort suspended in air. Every mark on the mat, every echo of movement, felt like a testimony to invisible courage.

Jack: quietly “You ever think about what it must be like? To do something impossible — something that even gravity has to respect?”

Jeeny: smiles “That’s what Biles does. She makes the impossible look like choreography.”

Jack: sighs softly “And the world applauds... but they never see the hours before the lights.”

Jeeny: “No one ever does. That’s what makes greatness lonely.”

Jack: after a long pause “But it’s also what makes it pure.”

Jeeny: softly “You sound like someone who understands that too well.”

Jack: smirking slightly “Let’s just say I’ve fallen enough times to respect the floor.”

Host: A faint laugh escaped Jeeny, the kind that breaks silence without disturbing it. The air smelled faintly of sweat and iron — the perfume of persistence.

Jeeny: walking toward the balance beam “You know what I love about her quote? It’s not just about dreaming big. It’s about the moment she realizes she’s become her dream — but still can’t quite believe it.”

Jack: watching her move “Like being trapped inside your own miracle.”

Jeeny: nods “Exactly. You spend so long chasing perfection that when you finally touch it, it feels unreal — like you’ve outgrown your own skin.”

Jack: quietly “Maybe that’s what greatness really is — an out-of-body experience earned through pain.”

Jeeny: turns to him, smiling softly “Or maybe it’s just finally seeing yourself the way others already do.”

Host: The sound of her footsteps echoed softly as she balanced herself atop the beam. Her silhouette, framed by the pale light of the window, looked fragile — but her poise was steel. She moved slowly, with deliberate grace, every step a story of fear overcome.

Jack: after a moment, voice low “You make it look easy.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly, still focused “That’s the trick. The harder it is, the calmer you have to appear. No one claps for struggle — only for stillness.”

Jack: thoughtful “And yet the struggle’s the only real thing.”

Jeeny: turning to face him, steady as a breath “Exactly. The medals, the lights, the applause — they’re echoes. The real moment is the one no one sees. The leap between fear and flight.”

Jack: softly “You think Biles feels that, too?”

Jeeny: smiling gently “She lives it. Every time she steps onto the floor, she’s proof that the human body is just an instrument for willpower.”

Host: The beam creaked slightly, and Jeeny hopped down, landing soundlessly. She stood before Jack now, breath slow, eyes bright with something that was not fatigue but fire.

Jack: quietly “You ever think she gets tired? Of being amazing?”

Jeeny: nodding slowly “Of course. Everyone does. Even brilliance burns.”

Jack: murmuring “Yeah... but it lights the world while it does.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly “You think she knows that?”

Jack: after a pause “I think that’s why she keeps going.”

Jeeny: softly “And that’s what amazes me — that she still finds joy in what should be pressure. That she turns discipline into dance.”

Jack: half-smiles “You sound like you envy her.”

Jeeny: quietly “I do. Not because of her medals, but because she’s met the version of herself that most people never reach.”

Host: The gym lights flickered once before shutting off completely, leaving only the glow from the emergency exit sign — soft red and surreal. They stood there, shadows breathing in the dark, surrounded by the ghosts of every attempt, every dream that had ever hit the floor.

Jack: after a long silence “You know what I think is amazing?”

Jeeny: softly “What?”

Jack: “That she dreams it first — not just the victory, but every movement, every breath — until her body just obeys. That’s more than focus. That’s faith.”

Jeeny: smiling, almost whispering “Faith in herself.”

Jack: nodding “Yeah. The kind I’ve never been brave enough to have.”

Jeeny: gently “Then maybe it’s time you start.”

Host: Her voice carried through the quiet gym like the sound of a landing — soft but solid. Jack looked at her, something shifting behind his eyes. It wasn’t envy. It wasn’t longing. It was realization — the kind that doesn’t crash in like thunder, but dawns slowly, like light through dust.

Jeeny: smiling gently “You don’t have to fly to be amazing, Jack. You just have to show up, fall, and keep moving until you forget what fear felt like.”

Jack: softly “And one day maybe crawl out of my skin and see it?”

Jeeny: smiling “Exactly. And when you do, you’ll see what the rest of us have seen all along.”

Host: The rain outside began again — light and steady, tapping against the gym’s metal roof like applause muffled by distance. Jeeny gathered her bag. Jack remained seated, eyes fixed on the beam, as if tracing the outline of what courage might look like if it had a shape.

Host: The camera pulled back — the gym now quiet, almost sacred in its stillness. Two souls framed against the backdrop of light and effort, courage and doubt.

And as the sound of rain faded into silence, Simone Biles’ words seemed to echo softly across the empty floor:

That dreams are not fantasies — they are rehearsals.
That reality is built on the bones of faith and failure.
And that to be human — truly, wildly, fearlessly human —
is to chase the impossible until it stops running.

Host: And maybe, just maybe,
when we finally step outside ourselves,
when we dare to look at what we’ve become,
we’ll see what Simone saw —

that the most amazing thing
is not the flight,
but the becoming.