I dreamt I was in Mexico with the sunshine on my face, traveling across an empty lake bed to reach the back of a bouldered canyon. I found a rocky notch unknown to all but a few naked hippies and random wanderers, a place where the earth had opened up and spewed forth hot streams of water to create sparkling pools and rainbow dog tutus, magic carpets and campfires, big purple afros, glowing hoola hoops, and Darth Vader…dreams can get so weird sometimes…
I dreamt of friends of friends of friends, of green fun noodles and grilled cheese served on the dance floor, of chanting groups of dancers under stars and cliff sides, of trickling streams of consciousness down Mother Earth’s cleavage. I dreamt of a dance floor set in the middle of Stonehenge, with great white artifices jutting above the DJ and spitting forth music from the front and providing cushy nap pillows on the sides so girls could sleep in the sun. In the middle of this ancient dreamscape was a sacred tree not for growing but for climbing- but this monkey held back as I did not want to offend any canyon gods or party organizers. In my dream, that is.
Encircling this crux of energy a billion happy people camped and danced and ate and slept and lived; when you leave humans to their own devices with no rules or traffic or Myspace they always become more colorful and beautiful, louder and happier, they dance and sing more and take off clothes and swirl around and I am in love with all of them.
These magical people with painted faces and feathery nipples handed out hugs and cooked mad amounts of bacon; they howled at the moon through palm leaves in their underoos and worshipped the sun from hot tubs full of hippie stew. Mmm, tastes like rum runner, burning sage, and mushroom chocolates.
I dreamt of bare feet on sun-warmed earth, of sand in my nose, of sleeping on rocks and not sleeping on rocks, of a red rope ladder up boulders that got easier with each traverse. I dreamt of Tecate, and more Tecate, and a little more Tecate. The morning call of “MIMOSA!!!!” echoed throughout the canyon all hours of the day, bringing the shuffling feet of hungover campers out of the tent and into to the warm circle of human beings.
These are my people; the men and women who are on this earth to have fun and make sure you do too, to slap you upside the head when you start feeling bad or acting stupid and remind you what a beautiful, laughter-filled planet this is and how very lucky you are every single day to look into the eyes of people you love and say so, and then dance.
They are the people of my dreams. They make music and share parties and cook curries and dance with fire and inspire me, and I pass their energy on to every single person I meet. My favorite sounds of the weekend were Yona, Jupti3r, Jockton with some tech house and Philly B who laid down some super fucking tight minimal techno Sunday morning. THANK YOU.
I woke up from this amazing imagination of a Mexican canyon with dirt in my hair, a few more freckles on my face, tons of new friends and the fat smile that only comes from knowing that you are not wasting your life.
And I sure as hell stopped at the border for some tacos before I did.
SORRY NO PHOTOS BECAUSE SHILO SUCKS
Where is my Ev, my Tap Tap, my Suda and my Tyler B and my Dylan? My magic photo takers and rave lovers and smile makers? OH YEAH in Seattle. I am only half a blogger without you guys!
“This one time, at Burning Man…”
I know some of you don’t know me (YESSSS there are strangers reading my blog!) so let me just say that I write “naked hippies” the same way I write “techno freaks” or “music nerds” or “crazy dancers”- with all of the love in my heart. Just so you know.