Last night I dreamed I was at Camp. I relaxed so fully and completely into the softness of the slightly tilted mattress and slept more soundly than I do when one ear is turned toward possibly waking children. The lullaby of seagulls singing to the accompaniment of ocean waves rocked me deep in the arms of the Divine Mother. The breath of sisterhood was the quilt beneath which I slept. The laughter and hugs and sharing of kindred spirits built a shelter that enclosed me in the safety and knowledge of being seen and heard. Women’s bodies moved around me, beside me, cameras in hand and tenderness in heart and vision.
It was a mild shock, a tiny electric jolt, when I opened my eyes in a room 2,500 miles east, with soft green and lavender curtains rather than yellow. The air missing the hint of salt water nearby. I closed my eyes for a moment, and the feelings washed over me again – of being surrounded in sisterhood, accepted with a smile and without question or requirement. Camp lives inside of me, forever joined with my spirit.