A rave. Everyone can tell when it’s happening. Usually I notice it when no one on the dance floor is talking, but listening. Feeling. Like at a quality classical concert – drifting off on a subconscious level. “If you talk to her she can’t dance along”, says my friend to my dance-floor neighbour, who’s trying to drop some info to me about the track.
I don’t think there’s an appropriate word to sum up the morning of November 29th at Watergate. More than eight hours later, all I’m left with is the memory. The best I can do is describe the feeling of ongoing hours of a dance floor epiphany. Long breaks, no breaks. Children singing. Spanish words. Sweaty people. Are we in a sauna? Where are we? I think I see the Spree. A paralyzed state of mind; a state of trance where nothing else matters, but that I dance to the rhythm of sound and heart. Move your body, relax your body. Time? What is time? What happened before and what will happen after doesn’t matter. Without noticing, I catch myself fooling around to the music, surrounded by friends, dancing. I feel safe – as if in that moment we all belonged to another dimension.
In these magnificent microcosms of ecstasy and bliss, time has no importance. I let my inner child carry me, guiding me from one emotional experience to the other. All while dancing. But wait, didn’t I forget something? Who besides my inner child has the power to carry me this far? That’s right. The DJ who stole my heart. Ricardo Villalobos, who on that day has left a cemented feeling of pure joy inside me which I retrieve to anytime I want. Thank you, Mr. DJ. Thank you for massaging my brain and stimulating my mind and soul, letting the gravitational force of music control my fears.
Distinctively, the dance floors of Berlin became the place to have my own secrets. A safe space that teaches me to cope with the past, the present, the pain, but most importantly how to let go.
Since I was a teen and throughout my twenties, I’ve always felt more comfortable in my mind rather than in my body. To the point that music, and the act of dancing became the one healing source for inner wounds and has brought me closer to myself. I cannot imagine my life without the power of music. And a good fucking rave!