Author: quantumdreamer

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Investor Incognito – Quantum Modules – Sociopolitical Problems Dream 19-08-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is last night’s dreaming sequence.

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“If you want my future, forget my past
If you wanna get with me, better make it fast”

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The dream opens in a splendid mansion and grounds of Italianate design situated somewhere like Lake Como or Lake Maggiore. It is upper class, rich and very swanky. It is an investor event for high net worth individuals and venture capital (VC) funds of diverse type and scale. It is late evening drawing into night. There is a string quartet and finger food. Presentations will be given in an outdoors setting once it has become fully dark. There is a stage and seating. Seating is round “ten” seater tables. In the meantime a pre-event wine tasting is going on. It feels European.

I am working incognito as one of the wine waiters. I am in black and whites with a white wine apron. I am opening a bottle of vintage red wine and offering to taste before decanting. I then fill a decanter with the rest of the wine. The idea being that they also taste after half an hour. I pour a taster around the table. Each in turns swirls the bright red wine and tastes. I move onto the next table who are trying an ice cold New Zealand white. In general the interaction is professional but I can tell that I am “staff” and not one of them. I am of no significance. I am not the main event.

Heading back to the kitchen an American woman who is a VC accidentally bangs in to me, she is partially drunk and is very rude to me. I apologise even though it is her fault. She is brash and convinced of her own importance. The event suggests to me that these are not the kind of people I seek.

The scene changes and I am at a booth in a trade show and technology event. On the table in front of me is a quantum module. It is a slot in for a 19 inch electronics frame wider unit. I have the side panel off the module. In it I can see a photonic circuit processor which is air-cooled by fan. Connected to it are several tight circle bundles of fibreoptic cable. These are cable tied and attached to the motherboard. A number of them lead to optical-optical low loss interconnects on the rear of the module. To the top of the board is a diode pumped fibre laser which I know to be single mode. The whole unit is a modular quantum logic gate, a plug and play module for an in-principle demonstrator. With me in the booth are Geri Horner and her husband. As a hobby he has led the engineering team and has managed to attract some not standard funding from Red Bull. I replace the side panel to the module and screw it in using a jeweller’s screw driver. I slot the module into the wider 19 inch parent rack. I then mount the whole unit into an electronics rack and attach the computer interface. Geri is excited and waiting for people to visit our booth. There is a Red Bull logo. The module is a large-scale building block prototype for a room temperature quantum computer. I have had to seek non-standard funding, hence Geri and Red Bull.

The scene changes and I am in my workshop / shed on top of a low rise several storey building. To my surprise a text message arrives on my ‘phone. The message asks “why, why am I packing it in?” I am very surprised that there is both a ‘phone and a text message in the dream. {A very rare thing} As I am dealing with this surprise a man appears at the door of my shed. He is older than me, very English and of the UK science hierarchy. I let him in. He wants to know why I am dropping this line of research / investigation. I explain to him that the establishment does not accept me and has difficulty interacting with me because I am not usual. I do not belong to any famous company / institution. He does not believe me. I explain to him in more depth and he starts to get offended imagining that I am attacking the entire science hierarchy. I ask him if he is personally offended. He says, yes.

“Now do you see the sort of thing I am up against. How resistant to me people are?”

“Yes, OK , I get the idea.”

He then asks me to hang fire for a while. He wants to know who I am working with. I explain that it is just me. On my bookshelf he see texts on superconducting and quantum circuits. He says that he might be able to get someone to work with me. I doubt it. There is no money.

I say to him that there is little which can be done. It is as it is. He does not like this.

The dream ends and I have the Spice Girls “Wannabe” to mind.

The Proud Disconnect

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I have long noted that I do not seem to have the same “stars in my eyes” that others might do about fame, kudos and positions of sociopolitical power. Because I have not shown the deference deemed owed by some, I have put noses out of joint and have experienced payback. I am unskilled in the art of sycophancy and brown nosing. Luckily my lack of said interpersonal skill is not tested these days. I can see that there is often a social-disconnect in which people are expecting some kind of different behaviour from me. I do not play the mutual itchy-back game well. As a young man and researcher I was academically precocious and unfiltered towards my “older and betters”. It was not a friend winner nor was it politically astute. To this day I am unlikely to doff my cap correctly were such behaviour deemed warranted. I don’t seek kudos nor do I deem it important. It is impermanent and thereby illusory.

I have always had the notion that I am a little alien to this planet. Others differ in outlook, I think.

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My first celeb crush was on Delenn…

The biggest disconnect which I seem to have with society at large comes with this weird word “proud”.

Contestants on Masterchef Australia want to make their family proud and are proud of their creations. Coaches are proud of what their teams do in Rugby and Soccer. Parents are proud of their offspring and their achievements. People are proud if little Johhny gets into Oxford or Marie-Claire the Sorbonne. People can be proud they went to a Cambridge College or to Imperial. They can be proud that they finished a marathon or that they quit crack cocaine. They can be proud that they helped an old lady cross the road. People on SAS Celebrities can be proud of the effort they put in. Everybody wants to be proud of something, its seems. A lot of gay people are proud and have pride.

I just don’t get it…it is not a word that I would use.

In the past I got a degree and a Ph.D. Going into the viva for the latter, I was very well prepared. My thesis was a good journeyman effort with published results. Nothing earth shattering. My assessment was that I would pass. This proved true. It was as I had assessed. No biggie. Job done, next thing. I wasn’t proud of it. Though to keep the peace I had to sit for hours in the Royal Albert Hall for the purposes of ritual magic. I was not proud, my realtives might have been. I thought the Ph.D. simply consistent with effort. I did not believe I deserved it. I believed I had satisfied the criteria. It was normal.

One of the things I have is the question, “is it possible”. This question when answered in either sense is usually enough for me. I asked myself recently, “is it possible to get a quantum optics patent granted without the use of a patent attorney and having done no university level science for well over a decade?” The answer was yes. My curiosity is satisfied. I am not bothered about winning.

Were I to go on Masterchef {UK if they allow men of my age and size } I would probably prepare very meticulously. The question would be, “could I make some food that experts thought was tidy?” If the answer was yes, I would probably lose interest. To take it to conclusion and make myself “proud” would not occur.

I do not recall anyone other than my nan saying she was proud of me. If you say it over and over, proud is such a weird word.

I have in general been happy. If I have done my impeccable best at anything that is enough irrespective of level of success measured or otherwise. Why would anyone be proud about putting a good effort in? It makes no sense to me. Isn’t a good effort the default?  

I have not got a trophy cabinet…I don’t need affirmation.

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As a little exercise listen carefully and note how many times the word proud is said in your earshot over the next few weeks or so…

Will you be proud of how many time you note the use of the word proud?

How long before you give up?

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Beck and Call

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People can be complacent, imagining that others will always be around even at their beck and call. People do not imagine that another might disappear into thin air, either with or without a puff of smoke. If you are institutionalised in say academia there is an assumption that you will remain therein and readily contactable, on tap. No-one foresees that you will go off into the wilderness to live as a yogi. They can’t treat you just how they see fit and you must suck it up. You can be the “dependable”. One click of the fingers and you are always there.

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We are accustomed to watching “24 hours in A&E” and the interviews with relatives bang on about how important family is and that it is unwise to take time and people for granted. They are clearly prompted by the interviewers with scripted questions. The answers are formulaic, fairly repetitive and preachy. When I hear people say that they must not take things or people for granted it does not ring true to me. What they mean is, “Phew, when  this crisis is over, we will endeavour to go back to pretty much how we were.”

You can work out if I am being cynical or simply accurate. What is your take on human nature?

So many people do take others for granted perhaps to be picked up and used as and when. I know from my own experience that many people have used me and, in my desire to help, I have actually done them a massive dis-service. I have disempowered them and robbed them of the lesson of using their own efforts.

If I have any regrets in this life, this is one of them, disempowering people by trying to help and make their lives easier, doing things for them. This leads in many cases to being taken for granted.

Grants however can be withdrawn…the complacent and entitled rarely expect this.

There is a type of person who imagines everything, everyone is at their beck and call…They can get upset and have a tizzy when this proves not to be the case.

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What happens when you snap your fingers, metaphorically or otherwise?

Do you get?

Do doors open?

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The Dreamers of Mankind are Group Conscious…

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At the level of the reincarnating Soul or dreamer humanity is group conscious. It is aware of other Souls or dreamers who are on the same wavelength or colour. This is soul to soul. The incarnate being may not be fully or even partially conscious at the soul level being wrapped up in the “personality” of the meaty vehicle and its desires and worries. This so-called personality is the separative notion of self, focused on by modern psychology. As yet soul-centred psychology has not come into being. The “self” may be mentally polarised, emotionally polarised or gonad obsessed. It may prefer ideas and concepts, drama and emotional manipulation, or think only about sex and shagging. The soul or the dreamer is a level of consciousness which is true intuition, the inner-tuition of the real incarnating you, the soul, the dreamer. It seeks life after life to fully infuse the vehicle and its personality into which it is born. Its journey is home to the ONE source.

An IDF soldier firing into a crowd of people queuing for food in Gaza may be killing someone whose soul is the same colour as his, who belongs to the same group of souls. Literally he kills his brother or sister. This he justifies to him or herself.

In this context my soul ray or colour is indigo-blue, the second “ray”, which means that I pertain to the elephant dreaming class in Toltec nomenclature. There are people on the same wavelength, at the level of dreamer, as me, incarnate in bodies all over the world. They may be Aboriginal, Russian or Arab or Jew. They may be Nigerian or Chinese, they may even at a push, be English. The vehicle matters not to the soul. You may drive a Honda, a Peugeot or even a Chevrolet. The driver can change “cars” from life to life. That way one gets to experience different mundane circumstance and traditions. It is all about learning.

At this level of the soul, the heart, we are the same colour, we have similar sound and a basic urge to love-wisdom. It is possible via meditation and/or dreaming practice to ascertain to which group of souls you belong, to which dreaming class you pertain.

Of course even a rainbow verbalised as Richard of York etc. is a model. The colours of the rainbow do not care for our mundane descriptors, they merge into each other, without seam or boundary. The dreaming classes are defined for clarity but abut gently. Separation and division along with comparison are faculties of human mind, lower mind at that. The dreamers of the rainbow blend into a symphony of colour where each tone, each nuance of shade and vibrancy adds to the whole, the One Life in its human aspect.

Ever since humans started killing each other the practice of fratricide has plagued this planet!!

It continues to this day…

Slowly more people will sense this innate interconnectedness, they will feel it. They will know in heart that we are but one humanity and not a bunch of angry petty warring primitives. It will take a long time. Already there are tens of thousands who sense this.

The dreamers of mankind are group conscious and it is their challenge to manifest this consciousness fully onto the physical material plane, on the planet we call earth!!

Humanity Needs a Reboot – Probably a Cataclysm

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As the end of one earth birth year comes and another starts, I tend to reflect and have a guess at what may be to come. The most obvious for me (us) might be a pair of replacement hips which offer the possibility of reduced pain and enhanced mobility. There is no guarantee, I could also cark it. Physical plane life looks relatively simple with little deviation from the current trajectory on compound, though with reduced gardening.

What is so obvious to me is that humanity is not focussed on the big climate elephant in the room. Running lemming like into its orgy of acquisitional hedonistic show-and-tell materialism it is distracted and complacent. It allows the petroleum industry to sports wash and sabotage plastics conferences. It has cheerleaders in the USA. AI won’t be much use as the reservoirs empty; the forests burn and the cities flood. The crocodiles can feed on corpses. But let’s hype the hype and feed the energy-vampire water-sucking server farms, it is good for the wallets of the mega-rich. It keeps humanity distracted with robot Olympics and more energy voracious ‘phones and the endless petabytes of vacuous images.

Were anyone to ask me what humanity needs, I would say a complete reboot. I don’t mean this in the sense of flogging a dead horse movie franchise further to death. I mean a complete and utter reboot, a new operating system and a complete new age. I can see no way of this happening without a massive and global scale cataclysm. The old ways will need wiped out. People will need to think again and learn from their wastrel past. It seems that it cannot be a slowly stepwise process. In needs shock and awe to wake humanity from its slumber. The scale of the cataclysm needs to match the scale of the problem. It needs to be big. I have mentioned before that a nuclear winter is possibly a solution for global warming. Humanity is currently calling forth cataclysm. It is sleepwalking into it and gobbing off all the while.

Were anyone to ask me what humanity needs this would be my reply and my advice.

Who Do You Take Seriously?

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I’ll start this off with two omissions.

Of late we have heard a lot of the orange-drone-voice-man and his quest for Swedish Krona. The body language of his interaction with Vlad the Impaler has been dissected, no doubt for a fee, in various outlets. Not one of them has thought to mention that Putin is a dan grade judoka. Probably none of these body-language experts have been on the mat. If like Putin you are a lifelong judoka you cannot but help assessing where the centre of gravity of people is. This includes during handshakes. Instinctively one adjusts position and weight to see how another responds. A player of with-caddy-cart 18 hole golf has a different mentality to a judoka. Always there is an inkling of what throw one might attempt. A golfer might not anticipate this. Putin might one day step in for an Ipponseionage and bam…Putin will always be a judoka to the core.

Unless I am mistaken the history of the tribes of Israel as per the old-testament speaks of the wrath and retribution of God. There is Divine intervention on a biblical scale. Right now Israel is going biblical on Gaza. Maybe they have checked this out with God and he is on board, maybe not. If he is unhappy with this bellicose vengeance he might have to intervene. I have not heard this aspect discussed. But large scale divine intervention is a part of their religious hagiography. Maybe God is no longer as important as Netanyahu.

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As an old fart in rural Brittany there is no reason why anyone might take me seriously, even were my observations apt and applicable. This is because I am not famous nor am I a big cheese. I do not have thousands of followers on this internet thingy. If you are a nobody, nobody takes you seriously. You have to have a gang, a club, a peer group or be properly institutionalised. It is possible that people who have been in the same institution for several decades might imagine me the lunatic!! Life has a few quirks.

I don’t think that golfer boy is noting a shift in the way the world is. He is a bit too stuck in the past. He does not have a wide encompassing view of humanity as a whole.

As a rule of thumb people give the most credence to people who are relatively close to them physically, their colleagues, who think in a similar manner. They like what they hear back so they take it seriously. Anyone outside can be seen as misguided, an enemy even. Their views and opinions are not taken seriously, they are discounted. Even people who know intellectually about this prejudice cannot resist it. It is a fundamental flaw of group-think and group-mind. Peer “pressure” is way more powerful than we care to acknowledge. The desire to not rock the boat and to comply is endemic.

“Which idiot would dare to put their head above the parapet?”

If anyone did, they would only be taken seriously posthumously and in retrospect. Genius is most often ascribed posthumously and with hindsight. Rarely is it proclaimed in vivo. Everyone knows this and yet repeats history by non-acceptance and in some cases derision.

Things must not be too different in order to be taken seriously!

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The obvious question here is why do unicorns always point to the right?

Some people do not like those who have a different perspective from them, they resist hearing it and in any way assimilating. They just can’t or won’t take divergent views seriously.

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Do people have to see the world in a similar way to you in order for you to take them seriously?

Must everyone think just like you?

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Is it Safe to Write off Dreams?

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There may be times when we wake up from a nightmare or grimacing with embarrassment from the contents of a dream and in coming to think, “phew, thank God, it was only a dream!!” Yet in the twilight between sleep and “awake” it takes a little while to convince ourselves fully. The dream residue hangs around as we perhaps take breakfast and if we are so inclined, a morning shower. The mind set “it was only a dream” is partially convincing for some and complete for others. The dream echo may last until we get on the Metro train of a morning.

But the funny thing is, you can never un-have a dream. Whether you like it or not the dream has changed you, your consciousness and assimilation of the world. That change may be tiny; it may be huge. But a tiny change, a tiny acorn can become a mighty oak. Things we attempt to sweep under a carpet leave a lump of sorts.

The more rational we imagine ourselves to be the more likely it is that we use the “it was only a dream” explanation and justification. Dreams are for space cadets and rainbow unicorn jockeys after all. They are not real; they have no bearing on waking reality. Bah! Humbug!! In our enlightened AI social media obsessed age dreams have no real place. You can’t make a TikTok out of a dream. You can take a video at Santorini.

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Of course if you are prone to recurring nightmares, they can be tricky to write off with the “it was only a dream” mantra. You may even get stressed about going to bed in case your nightmare returns. Depending upon your point of view, a nightmare means that there is something you need to address in life. It could be a PTSD minefield etched into you being or some other life circumstance than needs attention. Something you are perhaps unwilling to face, to the extent you have nightmares about it.

If you are lucky your dreams may offer you guidance and insights for life. If you are a know-it-all arrogant person, you may squander these with the “it was only a dream” mantra. Dreams can warn you about traps you are rationalising yourself into, they can offer a left sided view aside your insistent justifications.

But if you are of the “phew, I got away with that” mentality you are very likely to discount and write off any advice given in dreams. You are so cunning and clever.

In general most people have a good idea when the need to address some problem or other in life. They know in their hearts. They may lack courage. Their minds may provide an entire Excel spreadsheet of excuses why they do not have to face whatever it is. So they will put it off and put it off and put it off. They may, in this manner, precipitate a crisis of considerable magnitude. They may hope that they never need to face “it” and pray for the fairy Godmother. They may indulge in magical thinking.

I have no idea what you might be dreaming. You could be dreaming a dream in which I am.  In that dream there may be some “advice” for you on what to do. For example if you are fated to meet me, then I might be a recurrent theme in your dreams. If you wish to follow that fate as opposed to stymy it then it might be wise to try to engineer a meeting. If you wish to avoid me you could keep doing than and see if I eventually stop appearing in your dreams or nightmares. If I disappear from your dreams, you could conclude that it is safe to write off dreams in which I appear.

The thing about dreams and dreaming is that there are rarely binary. Dreams are nuanced and partially ephemeral.

I have had hundreds of dreams. Some of which I have been able to act upon meanigfully. There are many for which I am in no position to do anything about. All I can do is note them. I never discount them, but I can’t do anything. It is not my call, my play.

If your dreamer wants to get through to you and you discount what it presents in dreams, it can start to offer omens and dreaming symbols in real life. If for example you have a car crash in real life, then your state of awareness your assimilation of the world and its circumstances needs to and will have an abrupt halt, a forced change of direction. This is a waking dream.

Of course you could ignore it and use the “it was only a dream” mantra and deny your hand in whatever happenstance has occurred.

Did you know that the reason ostriches stick their head in the sand is to better help them to dream?

From my point of view it is generally unwise to chant the “it was only a dream” mantra. Some dreams are relatively safe not to devote too much attention to; others require immediate consideration and action.

Recurring dreams are a subset of dreams that must not be ignored.

Inside My Head

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At the moment we are re-watching Wednesday who is currently at Nevermore, the gates of which owe design credit to the “arbeit macht frei” of Auschwitz.

I’ll wager that as these things are measured, I would not count as a “normie”. Some might imagine that my mind is a scatter of machine gun synapses. When in fact it is generally very calm and very tranquil. From time to time the wife gives me a weird look when I answer an obscure question on “University Challenge”.

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What is normal to me, may be a bit weird to others. I am aware of this and have observational “evidence” to back it up. I may appear morbid but am in fact simply nowhere near as dramatic about death and things corporeal as most. I am not easily fazed. I am not a “poor me” attention seeking drama queen.

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The simple question is,

“How can I interact with others whilst being fully myself without freaking them out?”

The ancillary question is,

“Is that even impossible?”

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In the past I have tried and failed at fitting in. Experience suggests that I am just too odd. I am not interested in the same things.

I got well fed up with the need for chameleon…

People find it hard to believe that someone with my {ancient, more than half a Giga second} background is not after something, that I am not pursuing an agenda of sorts. They find the entire concept of abandon to flow an anathema. Because of the way they live, they only see their own motivations reflected in their mis-perceptions of me and my circumstance.

My mind is not full of cunning plans and self-promotion.

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Today we prepared some firewood for when I am incapacitated in autumn. I bought a new splitting axe. Tomorrow I will power wash the guano off from under the swallow nest. The second brood has fledged.

Unless I am actively thinking about scribbling here, my mind is quiet bucolic and at rest.

This “at rest” is extremely hard for normal people to imagine, because they live with a relative cacophony, inside their heads…

Most people would be very bored to live inside my head as it by default is…

Covercule 18 – COVID 19 -“they”- British Expats Dream 15-08-2025

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De baard maakt geen wijsgeer; anders was er de bok goed aan.

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Here is this morning’s dream sequence.

The dream starts with me talking with a young medical practitioner. She is an advanced nurse but not a fully qualified doctor. She is wearing very dark blue scrubs and has an identity lanyard around her neck. We are sat at a hospital dining facility come café. I am talking with her about my philosopher’s chin. I have a habit when pensive of sometimes gripping my chin with lightly with my right hand and stroking the left side of my chin with the right index finger. I say that nearly every night just before I go to sleep it itches where the finger goes a little and I give it a brief scratch. It is a part of going off to sleep of a night.

She says that there is no need for concern. I was already unconcerned. She says that it is my covercule 18. The phonetics of the word covercule are explicit. That covers my 18. The philosopher’s chin.

She says that ever since COVID 19 humans have become split. There are those who believe and trust the medical profession and those who prefer half-baked conspiracy theories and internet remedies. “They” are more consulted and believed than is warranted. I say that given my chemistry background I tend to trust vaccination and think of the medical profession not as deity but qualified, trained yet human professionals. I note that not everything they say is evidence based, some is still anecdotal. She agrees that medics are not infallible. I say that I have the courage 18 of my own convictions and am not readily swayed by the advice of “they”.

The scene changes to a small town square in France. We have been considering a move back to the UK and have been chatting about this with some British expats. They point us towards a car parked on the square in which are two women. The window is wound down. I approach and speak with the woman driving. She says that if we are going to rent or buy a property in the UK there is some anti-squatter documentation that we need to fill in. We need to engage the services of a security company called ON. The documents are back at their place.

The wife and I go to their home. The relationship between the women is unclear, query lesbian. We go in and one of them retrieves a document from the office. I am sat at the kitchen table now without a shirt. In the sink are a pile of dishes from the night before. The wife and I exchange glances. One of the woman goes to find a pen. There is other debris in the house. It is a bit of a shit tip yet these women are claiming to be experts. Their house is not at all in order. I have my cheque book out and have started to fill out the form. The woman says that I need to write a cheque for £100 to the security company. Everybody knows “they” say that it is a good idea. I am unconvinced. I motion to the wife and we leave. The women are not happy and entreat us not to miss out. I doubt the wisdom of “they”. They live in a shit tip.

The scene changes and now still in France I go for a walk along the canal. It is early autumn and the canal-side plants are grown green near waist high. It is difficult to see the gravel path. I step off the tarmac road onto the path. I walk along the canal. In the distance I can see a young French man fishing with a roach pole. He has two light brown mongrel dogs of medium size with him. I see by the canal a discarded round warning road sign, which I pick up. As I approach the youth, he makes a playful dog yapping and barking noise to suggest that the dogs will do this. He and I lock eye to eye in mirth. Sure enough as I approach the dogs bark and yap around my legs. I steer them with the road sign using it as a shield. Once passed the dogs return to the fisherman.

I find a path off the towpath up and around the small road bridge over the canal. Aside the bridge is an old toll cottage. I knock on the door and it is answered by a middle aged, fat balding British man in shorts. Over the stable half door I pass him the once discarded road sign which he adds to his collection. He thanks me for helping him stay useful and for adding to his collection.

The dream ends.

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* Because of where I spent a fair part of my childhood I was exposed to expat {British} communities. I saw the shenanigans and how some struggled with living far from home in a quasi-incestuous partially suffocating community. I am therefore naturally sceptical about expat “wisdom”…