I had a simple creative goal at Burning Man- think of at least one new story idea. Given all of the creative inspiration on the Playa, that seemed almost laughably achievable! But as the week flew by and I was approaching my final hour at Burning Man, I found myself biking around an increasing empty Black Rock City, incredibly fulfilled from my best Burn yet, but frustrated that it seemed almost certain that I would not meet my goal.
“The Playa provides!” is an almost cliched catchphrase that you often hear during Burning Man when someone is of need of something, be it food and coffee for a weary sunrise chaser, a cool place to sleep during the scorching daylight hours, or a hug from a stranger after a challenging day. But a creative breakthrough? In the final hour? Likely not in this case.
As I biked up to the dark 8:30 and A intersection, I noticed about 20 glowing bikes parked outside an inviting dome and decided to step inside and wait there for my wife to finish up her final nursing shift in the medical tent down the street. The No Sleep Hotel, as the dome was called, could have been pulled straight out of the 1920’s, with a phonograph sitting on an old piano next to a man typing away on a dusty typewriter.
“Do you have a dream?” asked a woman next to me after I sat down by the piano.
“Excuse me?”
“A dream. Have you received a dream yet?”
“Ummm…I don’t believe so.”
“Then ask the man at the front door. He’ll give you the dream you need.”
Typically, I would be skeptical about a woman at a bar suggesting I ask the man working the front door for a dream. I mean, the chances are pretty good this was just a prank that would result in laughter at my expense, right? But this was my final hour at Burning Man and the Playa does theoretically provide, so why not take a chance?
“One dream, please,” I said to the man.
“One dream?
“Sorry, the woman by the piano said I should ask you for a dream.”
“Ah,” he said as he looked over at the woman and then pulled out five dusty blue envelopes and began shuffling them. “One of these is your dream. Maybe…no…OK, this is your dream. No, wait…this one,” he said and then handed me my alleged destiny.
Relieved I hadn’t yet been mocked and excited about the possibility of discovering my lifelong dream, I sat back down by the piano, opened the blue envelope, and read the following passage:
“I sailed on a glittering sea, and it was land. The horizon was the edge of the earth- where it fell off, anyway. The tides of the moon’s gravity made the earth roll, and it was I, dancing in the waves.”
The tides of the moon’s gravity made the earth roll, and it was I, dancing in the waves. That line gave me chills. I have heard so often over the last six months the idea of dancing with our fear rather than fighting it. I find the image of waves (symbolizing fear or challenges or adversity) crashing into a man and watching him gently dance with it absolutely stunning.
And that image is now the ending of my new VERY short story, Dancing in the Waves. The Playa does, in fact, provide.
