When the Music Stops: A Dream About Community That Came to Life

This morning, I woke from a dream that has stayed with me in the most extraordinary way.

In the dream, I was dancing in the streets. Not alone, but with hundreds of others. It was a full-on choreographed musical, vibrant and alive with movement and rhythm. Even a few giant, talking crows joined us, trained and synchronized with the flow, embodying a mysterious wisdom from another realm. We were moving in unison, each of us attuned to the music that pulsed through our collective.

And then, suddenly, the music stopped.

But something magical happened. We didn’t stop. We kept dancing. We had to look to one another, feel into each other’s presence, support and guide each other to stay in rhythm. Without the external sound, we tapped into something deeper — a communal heartbeat. The connection between us became even more alive. Even more real.

When I woke up, I turned to my partner and said, “We could do better to cultivate our community. We’re working so hard, but what we really need is to introvert a little less, and commune a little more.” I felt it in my bones. What we are all longing for is the kind of connection that holds you, reminds you, reflects you.

A few hours later, I found myself at the gym, and for the first time ever, the workout wasn’t split into small pods. We were all moving together — the same motion, at the same time, to loud, shared music. The rhythm was electric. Then, out of nowhere, the sound system glitched and the music stopped mid-flow.

And just like in my dream, we didn’t stop.

We kept moving. Together.

It hit me like a wave: my dream had crossed the veil into my waking life. I felt the truth of it settle in my body: the knowing that even when the music stops, we are carried by each other. So many shivers. So profound.

What this experience made me think about was how we are meant to move together.
To be witnessed.
To co-regulate.
To remember that even when things fall apart, we are not alone.

This reminded me that we don’t always need perfection or polished presentation to feel connected. Sometimes, we need the moment when everything drops — when the familiar disappears — to truly see one another.

This is the kind of community I’m building through my work:
✨ One where embodiment and shared presence lead.
✨ Where we come together to move, breathe, heal, and remember ourselves through each other.
✨ Where we trust the unseen choreography that life offers us — and we keep dancing, even when the music stops.

Learn more about Polarity Somatic Yoga and my upcoming series based on this dream here.

...ADDENDUM TO THE DREAM THAT KEEPS ON DREAMING...

Yesterday, I shared the story of this dream (above) which blurred the lines between dreaming and waking life, community and connection, music and movement. I thought that was the end of the story.
But I was wrong as apparently life had even more magic in store!

Later that day, I went to the Procession of the Species parade here in Olympia. As the parade began, the very first group to come into view were the crows — at least 20 or 30 people dressed in handmade crow costumes, dancing in unison through the streets.

And then, just as in my dream, the music concluded and some of the dancers began to falter as others kept the dance going.
In the midst of this pause, one of the crow dancers turned, looked at the group, and called out:
"Keep it alive!"

Without missing a beat, the crows kept dancing, holding the energy together with pure presence and connection — exactly like the dream I had described.

It was a stunning, living confirmation:
This is the moment to keep the dance of connection alive. To keep moving together even when the external rhythm falls away.
To trust that something deeper, more timeless, is guiding us.

How often do you happen across a group of dancing crows in the streets within hours of posting a dream about dancing crows in the streets? SO much magic.

Keep it alive!
I can't wait to share what’s next.