In late 1993, I had a strange dream. I dreamt I was flying above a small mountainside town somewhere in the desert. The town itself, although in the desert, was green and alive. It was a place I'd never seen in real life, but it seemed welcoming and familiar. And, in the distance, I could see a great wave consuming the large cities along the vast horizon. About a month later, I received a cassette in the mail from my friend, the late great Bill Hicks. He was in the middle of editing his third release and wanted my opinion on the musical portion of the piece. It was a rough mix of what he was calling his "Arizona Bay" CD. I felt that tickle again. The dream wasn't specific about that place on the mountain side. But I now knew it had to be somewhere in Arizona. I described it to a friend who used to live there. He knew exactly where this place was and drove me there in mid-1995.
As we entered the Verde Valley, my heart started to race. By the time we got to Jerome, I was vibrating. We -- my inner dialogue and myself -- knew this was the place. This was like that moment when you realize you've just met your soulmate. You just know. Your heart swells to four times its size. You are equal parts panic and relief.
This feeling has never left me. This place continues to be an endlessly creative and inspirational crossroads for me. Still waiting to see that "great wave consuming the large city along the distant horizon." Any day now. Chicken Little out.
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