Newgrange, Co. Meath, Ireland
Close to midnight, December 21st 2012
The white stones of Newgrange glowed in the light of campfires and lanterns. In the starlit darkness, the great Neolithic passage tomb seemed monstrously huge, dwarfing the people that milled about on its surrounding fields. Enya and Clannad were the artists of choice tonight, one swirling mystical track following after another as the party went on.
Aidan O’Neill stood by one of the bigger fires enjoying the surging buzz of the magic mushrooms he’d choked down earlier. Harvested at the autumn equinox and dried by a man who knew what he was doing, they’d been billed as powerful little bombs of feel good fun. Admittedly, they tasted disgusting, but once he was past the initial nausea, they were certainly living up to their sales pitch. A deep sense of togetherness and euphoria was putting a huge grin on his face. Everyone he saw had the same happy golden aura surrounding them, their movements trailing gold sparkles in the air.
The Daoine Sídhe, over a thousand strong, were in a jubilant mood, having eaten and drunk well in celebration of the night that was in it. Many like Aidan had taken a hit of something mood altering. Those who couldn’t take the mushrooms, the authentic choice of their ancient Celtic forebears, had popped a few E’s instead. And everyone had smoked a massive amount of weed, the sweetish herbal smell thickened the air. There was a mood of happy disbelief about them, like they themselves couldn’t quite accept that their time had finally come. No one had overdone anything, nobody wanted to miss what was coming, the big event centuries in the making. Most were congregating in small fluid groups that broke up and reformed as people drifted in and out of conversation. A close knit group, everyone knew each other and all were quietly seething with excitement as the witching hour drew closer. Aidan felt like his insides would burst with joy and a deep sense of pride; to be at Newgrange on this solstice night as part of the Daoine Sídhe.