Dreaming Festival

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June 7. Raiiiiiiiining. Up early butcherbird on wire piping echoed morning sonata in undercover park of concrete and tubing made me smile. Library scene Lucy helped me post Tathra beach shot on blog. GO TO GALLERY! Sticker dispersal getting frenetic. Multiple promises of 'sticking on'. Awesome, mystical and mellow spring to mind. 'Awesome' the lady from Wooloongong. Tewantin cool, deluge suspended. Blood booth and 'lest we forget'. Great fig trees. Still.
June 8. To Mooloolaba to pick up letter that doesn't arrive. On to Woodford for festival of Aboriginal. Tremendous response. Islander woman looked at sticker, thought and said clearly and simply, 'I like it'. Woman with colourful stall got five flags to sell. I milled around. Then as night came on it got VERY cold. There were several huge brake drums from those giant ore trucks with fires in them. Two meters in diameter fair dinkum. Fireside comraderie. Threw on great chunks of wood. Perfect fire. Opening ceremony sounds, songs. I stayed close to the fire. We blazed it up to force the circle wider, warmer. After many enjoyable hours a race to the car.
June 9. Survived the night only just. Dreaming Festival cold windy morning spruik total response. Three large flags taken. Extra pleasant because never a hassle. Interest, passion, discussion, human interaction. So many faces, so varied faces, the children, strollers, wild hats of many shapes and colours. I'm in my $3 straw number. Chill jets entering the cracks. And finally back to the car for tinned tuna and corn, warmed, a surprisingly harmonious confabulation. Of course hunger makes the best sauce and constant shivering does that to perfection. The pleasure the hungry of the world must get! I survived with resort to socks, my old whites, and I articulated my goal of never wearing them again, the logic being I won't have to wash them, and yachting gloves bare fingertips, my sarong as a scarf, my jacket's zipper malfunction endurable. The effort worth it to converse with fellow beings but. Some aboriginal I suspect. Onya Torres Islands. The drums sounded. I'd done opening ceremony. What lay ahead? A hot shower almost put me in to raptures. Then entering the sacred ground of Woodford a mild evening of mirth with Mary G and Sean doing comedy and breakdance. Fires blazed. Hindu food from hail Krsna. A benign feeling that the world could be perfected. There's a tree planting festival here at another time. Hippydom didn't die. It's alive and well and wonderfully dressed those bright colours exuding hope.
June 10. Another day of spruik. Sibillant songs of Meri men wafted into the carpark. Green ridge of gums. Chatted with police and even site director with power to expell me but didn't. Hot shower X. Entered festival. Sheila singin' love songs, bloke singin' country - 'I may be lonesome but I'm free'. Again the comraderie of the campfire. And I found a stall selling my favorite pants. All good.

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Comments

[Elyssa]

The Dreaming
I was searching for reviews/accounts of the festival. I had a great time too! Good luck with the rest of your travels : ) http://misselyssa.diaryland.com/070616_17.html