(note: this was posted to the 604 email list (goa trance discussion group) months ago and I can't find the original post or who the author was)

"it's been a long time, since you felt it. but now it's returned...

it vibrates. it thunders. it rumbles. it lures.

and you, you are standing on the side of the dance floor, a cigarette in one, a beer in the other hand, talking to somebody - as much as it is even possible to talk standing next to the speakers - and you feel the desire to drop the beer and the cigarette and let your conversation partner, as nice as they might be, just stand there to - d a n c e."

"it lures. is pulls you where there steel floor is, made from steel as to not be danced to pieces by all the feet moving rhytmically yet chaotically, following a secret yet thunderingly loud order. you want to disappear between them. dive into the brimming mass of steaming, sweating, jerking bodies. to become a part of it, of the all encompassing music. you want your heartbeat to become beat and the beat heartbeat. and then you do it: you let go of world, mania and senses and follow the beckoning call, hesitantly putting your first foot on the dance floor, finding a crack between the dancers that are dancing like indians around a campfire that doesn't exist.

you carefully swing your hips, begin to let the music seep into your pores. slow and hesitant you are, a little bit uptight, doesn't that look stupid? but something is reaching for you, and immediately you become wilder, faster, your movements more wide and complicated. an old and familiar but half forgotten euphoria begins to flow through your veins. happiness, anger, what is that? it drowns your mind, you stop to think. that all these people are here watching you concerns you less and less. the thing that was reaching for you before now has you tightly in its grip. you dont care about anything now, no, no forced let-them-think-what-they-want carelessness, but the absence of all will and want, all thought processes. there's only you and the beat. no, only the beat.

because you are not more than a manifestation, an incarnation of the music. you are the tool, that the rhythm uses to become visible, touchable. is that your sweat, that's dripping out of your pores now?

the time has come, this is what all this was leading to: are aren't dancing, but you are being danced. from something, that's bigger than you, and totally alien, and totally familiar. your eyes are closed, there is no world around you now. of course there are other people, other bodies, sweat sources, executing organs of the same spirit, that is ruling you now right here. but you don't care, you are alone, completely alone with the music. it's a type of being alone that has nothing to do with loneliness thought, because something is with you, something is in you, something is you.

at some point you wake up. you open your eyes, and the world is still there. and everything shifts back to its old place: there is you, and there is the others, and there again in the music, just noise blaring from speakers. you are relieved and disappointed at once. the smoke scratches in your throat, and you are out of breath. now you feel the sweat sticking on you, the wet streaks of hair in your neck. your friends are giving your looks of wonder, envy, concern, scorn, joy.

you sink heavy against the wall, smile tiredly, with the last twinkle in your eyes.

hell what did i just go off, you sigh."