treemusic

I had a very lucid and bizarre dream that about 25 extraordinary beings , mostly musicians, from far away places such as Austin, New York, and even as far as Denmark, showed up here in Far West Texas and enlisted me in their adventure. 

We all played music for two solid days, starting in Marfa at a converted funeral home to a fantastic audience, some who invented their own new form of dancing.

When driving from Marfa to Terlingua after the show, the dream went into sticky slow motion as the entire convoy of 8 cars and vans got pulled over. I was in front and supposedly was going 5 miles over the speed limit. I knew for certain at this point that is was a dream, because in real life, people don’t get pulled over for going just 5 miles over the speed limit on the highway. The driver in the very back also defied waking life reality by driving  faster than the cars in front of him, according to the police. After a very long investigation, the police were baffled that out of the entire suspicious convoy, nobody had any warrants or drugs, or was driving drunk. They seemed oddly disappointed, but dreams are strange like that.

After issuing warnings to all of us, we continued through the desert, finally arriving at my land, where a city of tents was quickly erected and a mayor and other officers were chosen.

We continued to play music through the night with the moonlight casting shadows through the broken clouds.

and continued the next day…..

After virtually no sleep, we started the next morning with a king’s feast, consisting of french toast and breakfast tacos, served buffet style in a shipping container. The French toast chef was out of milk, so he used whiskey instead. We miraculously made enough coffee for all those addicted with one little french press and a tiny remainder of coffee grounds.

The convoy then traversed down a winding trail to visit the window into the mouth of God, who 

happened to be exhaling at that moment, while I walked in a daze through a festival of natural builders and off gridders.  I was fortunate  to see two magicians turn ordinary mud and straw into a sitting bench. I then fell into a deep sleep on a fainting couch at a friend’s house up the hill and accidentally missed most of the day’s events. I was lucky to re-awaken into the same stange dream as before. 

After eating a dinner at an old converted theater while small children performed an improvised play on a giant stage, we then ventured up the hill to an abandoned adobe church in a ghost town and lit candles.

People from the mostly ruined town, started to fill up the place and right after midnight, A paradoxical gospel band exploded on the stage, waking up and energizing everyone in the room who was exhausted from the day. The harmonica player on the left started to tell us about how Easter worked, but he kept getting the details wrong. We started to suspect that he was Jewish.

Then, two women, one on a banjo, and one pulling various instruments out of a magic bag, sang epic fables in tight angelic harmony. They were joined by a young prodigy mandolin player, and another woman who was playing a very large violin. They all had wolf heads.

Another performer sang a song about the universe crying while a few people in the audience wept. The music continued through the wee morning hours, echoing sounds of dobros and voices in choir through the old ghost town streets of dirt and stone. When it was my turn, I sang a song about Sunday sermons, while the woman with the large violin kept me awake by playing along.

We then returned to tent city only to find that most of it was destroyed in a giant wind storm. The mayor declared it a disaster area and everyone quickly got to work to rebuild the city.

In the morning, the music continued, as the rest of the town arose and hurried to the ghost town for a gospel brunch with many of the same characters, including the wolf heads. Some of the morning audience were there the night before. Some had heard the rumors of the extraordinary event from the previous night and didn’t want to miss this last chance.

Then, suddenly, all of the traveling musicians waved goodbye and disappeared.

I know it was a dream, because as I now look out on my land, there is no evidence that a tent city ever existed, just empty desert and a beautiful sunset. It is very quiet, and there is a slight breeze.