I had a dream that all day I could dream, retreating deep into a state of altered consciousness. It was the perfect warm summer’s day with a slightly cool breeze and clouds fitting of a dream. I heard the rhythm calling me, whispering deeply into my ear, taking me to a place of free will. Lee Burridge, the magician himself, had travelled long and far to take us on a journey of sound. The stage was set in a place filled with history and despair – an old battleground that saw much blood shed, but today we would dance to remember or dance to forget. Fort York was to be raised to the heavens again. We had no idea of the nirvana to come.
The crowd had gathered at the temple to worship; a great stage built to house the ceremony of the night. The crowd was of many tribes and all there for one purpose: to dance in unity. It was a playground of artists, spirits and sound. You could be anything: A fairy, a gypsy, a princess, or a queen. Nothing was stopping you from your dream.
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The magician took the stage with the force of a God, ready to tell a story to all. It was this energy that took hold of me. Like a deep fire of desire, the feeling took control. Was it light? What is darkness? No one shall know. A fluid rhythm with an organic sound took my hand though the crowd. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream and I wanted to sigh. All emotions took over me. I whirl around in sweet harmony with an expression, a release of pure energy. A single thought in my mind created my reality, every cell in ecstasy. The colours, the sounds, my senses came alive. Deeper and deeper I went down the slippery slide. It was vivid and light, was this a dream, or was it real life?
The magician lured me into a deep lullaby. With every note and every breath, I was pulled deeper and deeper into the dream. As I danced, someone stops and asks me: “What is this? Where am I? Who is this?” Ah, my child it is the magician playing his lullaby! You are in a deep, deep dream. His magic worked to leave a mark, a small piece of the robot’s heart, left in each and every city as tokens to the community. This special token – the music – which lives in our souls and that we all share.
Then it all ends with a clap and a goodbye, to wake up with only a memory of the night. Oh sweet magician, woo me back with your sweet lullaby so I may dream once more.
Photos By: Alec Donnell Luna of Ded Agency
