We sat on our sleeping bags and each of us tied two strands of rope behind us to make a backstrap loom. We pulled out all the yarn and feathers and herbs and mementos and wool and hair we had brought to share in our creations. I wanted to make my weaving a landscape and had brought a glass ring for the moon, grasses for the earth, dried flowers and herbs for trees, and a feather and shell for clouds. I added an old brass earring to reflect the light.

We each tied two sticks crosswise between our harness, so that we had a square frame for our weaving. As we intertwined all the materials and talismans we had brought, each according to her own pattern or inspiration, we told stories and poems, shared our star signs and sang songs. We chanted our names, "Margaret, Barbry, Hallie, Ruth, Jean, Deborah, Judy, Sky, Sequoia, Tana, Rita, Courtney." Each of us was weaving her own net in which to catch her dreams; at the same time, we were weaving a collective wheel to unite our visions. I felt that each thread and leaf that we wove strengthened the bond among all of us. We did not eat or make a fire—instead we focused all our energy on our dreams.

Before we went to sleep, we cast our circle—the traditional way of starting a ritual. We wanted this to be a truly collective ritual with no hierarchy of priestesses. Rather than following the usual form of one person marking the circle, we took turns, each making a contribution. Some sang songs, some spoke words, some chanted; another danced; others made wishes for the group. And so we cast ourselves off to sleep, each lying under her net of dream weaving.

The next morning, we woke as the light was hitting the tops of the trees. We kept warm in our sleeping bags, not talking, but spending several quiet hours meditating and writing or drawing our dreams. Tana had gotten up early to make a fire and silently came round to each of us; without a word she washed each of our faces with hot water and a clean towel and offered us tea. It was a good way to wake up after a night in a sleeping bag.

It was time to share our dreams. They reflected the personal lives of the dreamers, but there were common threads throughout all of them. Several women had dreamed of cities, of bicycles, and of finding entirely new lands. We agreed that a theme throughout any of the dreams was that a whole new order was necessary and that there was no point in trying to reform the old. Our dreams seemed to be telling us that we could not survive within the old order.