My Bumbershoot: Basking in sights, sounds of festival

I often dream of carnivals — vivid colors, crowds, constant motion. Usually I'm alone and a little lost, the kind of lost you get when you wander around in a beautiful but bewildering place, trying to take it all in, forgetting where you were trying to go. The trees are hung with lights, clothes flutter in the wind, and there's music hovering around every corner.

Bumbershoot was the best kind of déjà vu. The moment I walked onto the big lawn I was wrapped in it, this exhilarating sense that I was finally living something I had imagined over and over before.

I've been to festivals now and again, but nothing quite like this, the closeness of it, and scope of the spectacle. Five minutes after the warm ballads of Mindy Smith in the sunshine, I found myself in a pulsing throng at EMP's Sky Church, watching a DJ summon unearthly noises from a laptop computer; then out to dance to the Mass Ensemble and the zinging of their Wing Harp, or the bright rhythms of Thomas Mapfumo's band.

Everywhere I turned, I stared: rocks balanced with care into impossible towers, an old man dancing with abandon, drum circles flaring into life on the lawn, glimpses of frat boys and freaks and beautiful women. I kept running on falafel and shishkaberries, and the buzzing in the air.

Playing on a stage at Bumbershoot was icing on the cake. The audience reflected the day: sunny and relaxed, alive and open. Halfway through the set I thought to myself, "Why are they still here?" I was having a great time, playing well, and hopefully these people agreed. But there was so much else going on, I couldn't help but think that if I were out there, listening to me, I'd have slipped away already, eager to catch another glorious accidental discovery.