Faire Dreams

I dreamed about the NY Ren Faire again last night. To be sure, this wasn't the first time. I've dreamt about Faire periodically in the years since I left it. What's interesting to me is that my "mental map" of the Ren Faire in my dreams has slowly changed over the years. The layout changes: a new…

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Letting go

I keep dreaming about setting up my booth at the Ren Faire, even though I made the decision to leave last year. This doesn't change my life much, nor does it make me regret my decision. It's just a measure of how much the Faire gets into your blood.

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The Laugh

When I listed my pleasant memories from the NYRF, I mentioned something for which I’d like to tell the full story.

Let’s set the Wayback Machine to 1999. I’ve been diagnosed with an eye problem that will require surgery. Both the problem and the surgery to correct it are rather "squishy" and I’ll spare you the details. I’ll also spare you the suspense, since it’s not relevant to the story: the procedure was successful and my eyes are fine.

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The Ren Faire and me: the social connection, part 2

(This post is part of a series that goes over why, after 13 years, I’m leaving the New York Ren Faire.)

Walk through the gates of the New York Renaissance Faire. Continue straight along Spendepenny Lane. You come to the Hawker’s Crossing Tavern. Bear left at the fork, and you’re on Mystics Way. There you find the largest gathering of psychic readers to be found at any Ren Faire.
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The Ren Faire and me: the social connection, part 1

(This post is part of a series that goes over why, after 13 years, I’m leaving the New York Ren Faire.)

Once upon a time (1984 or ’85), a performer playing a Gypsy at the Bristol Ren Faire in Wisconsin plucked a young man out of the crowd and danced with him as part of the end-of-day celebration. It was just part of the show, and she probably thought little more about it.
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