Author: quantumdreamer

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A Dead Rat, No Nads and a New Tom

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Since Felix the feral tom cat has gotten back from the vets without his bollocks things have started to change in the garden hierarchy. The other night we heard a fight. Felix has taken to sleeping in a different position in the garden. All the animals enter through the big three metre tall hedge.

Yesterday I noticed, just outside my office, a dead rat. It had rigor mortis and was not fully mature. There is a “pissing” tree approximately three metres from my left hand. Gandalf the now neutered feral female has the habit of leaving me vole noses and entrails, on the window sill about a metre from where I sit.

Last night I set up a trail camera on the patio outside my office. At ~3:45 AM a hefty striped cat appeared. It sniffed the tree and started to piss on it. This is something like the eighth cat to visit. It is possible that the tom brought the dead rat.

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Felix who probably got Gandalf up the duff before they were operated on has started rubbing himself against our legs. The vet suspects that he might have feline AIDS. Before he would not let me get within a couple of metres. Gandalf has been angling to get in the house. She is becoming a trip hazard. They have started sitting on the back door mat. Waiting impatiently to be fed. This behaviour was hers and has been copied by Felix.

I am starting them on a course of aromatherapy. I have applied some malt vinegar to the mat. It keeps Gandalf at bay but Felix seem more immune to the smell. He even sniffed some blue roll soaked in ammonia. He is often snivelling and has a near perpetual cold. I know by experiment that neither cat likes the smell of petrol

If I can break Gandalf’s habit Felix will follow suit.

Is the new cat a regular visitor? Will it attempt to acquire more territory like Israel in the Golan Heights and West Bank?

We shall see…

The Great White Lodge Dream…

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In around 2000 – 2002 I was doing way too much on many fronts. I was engaged in a leadership sort of role with a Toltec group, I was in the middle of a messy divorce, at they genesis stage of a high power laser start-up company and trying to do my job as a physical chemistry lecturer at a world top ten university.

Retrospect suggests that this was utter lunacy.

It was around 2001 that I started reading Helena Blavatsky and the blue books opus by Djwhal Kuhl via Alice Bailey.  I am pretty good at assimilation of large volumes of information and it was then that, in this lifetime at least, I heard of the Great White Lodge for the first time. I read and re-read. I saw no conflict with reading so-called occult books and teaching reaction kinetics or chemical group theory. I had a working laser produced plasma source in the basement at work and had designed another for the start-up. I’ll speculate that I am not the normal kind of dude who reads Blavatsky and Kuhl.

I am able to read and refrain from premature judgment.

In ~2004 I started having waking visions of myself in Buddhist robes and with om mane padme hum tattooed on my forearms in Sanskrit. I would have these visions walking to college and on occasion simultaneous with me teaching a lecture theatre full of undergraduates. Clearly this is not the sort of thing to discuss with a line manager or human resources.

At the end of 2006 I left my job, sold my London flat and moved out into a rented cottage in a village where I knew nobody. The cottage was the home of the school teacher who taught, in days gone by, in the adjunct school hall. To shift from a very full hectic calendar into next to nothing is a quantum leap of some magnitude.

It was at the cottage schoolhouse where I completed my recapitulation and began even more extensive meditation on my mat all weathers.

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One morning in early 2007 I had a type of dream which for me is rare. It was a dream in which I was “told” that I had to find the Great White Lodge. There was no uncertainty, the command of must was unequivocal. I was gripped by an awareness of several beings it was an injunction which had to be obeyed.

This dream opened up several lines of inquiry. I met up with a friend of mine at Charing Cross whom I knew had contacts in UK new age circles. I inquired of him.

In the blue books opus Kuhl says that he, Koot Hoomi and El Morya lived close to each other near Shigatze in Tibet. These masters were mooted as members of the Great White Lodge by Kuhl. Did the dream mean that I had to go to Tibet and find them on the physical plane? I looked into travel there.

I wonder would they still be there after the Chinese occupation? Or would they have moved to India like the Dalai Lama?

Kuhl and Hoomi are “on” the second ray love-wisdom, as am I.

I had some health problems with a c6-c7 cervical spine hernia and some basal cell carcinomas.

At end of 2008 I stopped doing dreaming practice, re-read many of Kuhl’s book and joined the Arcane school. Then I did the master in the heart meditation to build the Antahkarana up to the higher levels of manas near buddhi. According to Kuhl this is “where” the masters can be found.

Then one evening during dinner in 2009, they found me. My entire awareness was seized and I was afforded a view of Shamballa. They said that no matter what, I must stay alive, I must survive what was to come. I should focus only on that. They said that they would send protectors. Cats started appearing on our garden wall and two crows, Russel and Sheryl, moved into a nest feet from our back door. They nested just above the show window to the right of our door. They stayed for months.

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Over the next few months, I was to have various “conversations” usually close to dawn on the Ashridge Estate near Tring. There I was able to ask questions and was told of my five previous incarnations. I am an adjunct to the second ray Ashrams. I was informed that I had been a very close disciple of Siddhartha Gautama. My most recent previous life had a seventh ray influence and I had directly worked with Rákóczi, Count Saint Germain.

My personality is seventh ray – synthesis.

I incarnated into a vehicle which was suited for modern science and I have a fairly good, broad not detailed, understanding of most of its concepts. I may be bilingual if you like.

I can get a patent “Increasing the probability of generating entangled photon pairs using Electric Field Induced Spontaneous Parametric Down Conversion” granted by the UK Intellectual Property Office.

I must be some top-end Walter Mitty…

Or not…+

Failure as a Human Being

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I have a pet theory which states that most people are literally sleepwalking, they are caught in the hamster wheel of material success and social kudos and have completely forgotten the purpose of their current incarnation. They may have all the accoutrements of success but when the time comes to show their humanity they fail, they fail as a human being. That failure, the lack of courage, the lack of honesty at time of crisis can weigh heavy. It is at the core of “The Seed and the Sower” by Laurens van der Post. Jack Celliers could have saved his little hunchbacked brother from public mockery but he tried to save face and look good. He was offered the chance for his brother to be spared of the ritual, the rite of passage. He had his cubic centimetre of chance but did not take it. He chose poorly. Subsequently Jack became reckless with his life and a part of his story, his betrayal, is immortalised in the film “Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence”.

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“All of us, whether or not we are warriors, have a cubic centimeter of chance that pops out in front of our eyes from time to time. The difference between an average man and a warrior is that the warrior is aware of this, and one of his tasks is to be alert, deliberately waiting, so that when his cubic centimeter pops out, he has the necessary speed, the prowess, to pick it up.”

Carlos Castaneda

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A watered down version of this public humiliation happened to me in boarding school. In my common entrance English exam aged 12 I wrote a poetic piece about being set loose in a coracle from Cape Town Harbour under a moonless sky and by the light of the Southern Cross. It was in a way prophetic. My housemaster, “Bulldog”, chose to read it out in school assembly, without asking me. He eulogised about the poetry in my soul. I got five white bonus points for my house, Lincoln. I never wrote anything like that again until I was in my late thirties. I did not let go again. As a direct result of that moment, I chose chemistry, physics and maths, instead of English, Latin and French for my “A” level subjects. I pivoted away.

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Many people are convinced, adamant even that know where people are coming from, what they are all about and how they think. Not asking they never truly know. People in my experience prefer to tell me what they think I am thinking. Being introverted I am very unlikely to offer any narrative or opinion, unless it is on a subject about which I am interested. I could have written passionate here but I didn’t because I am past the stage of passions.

I have made a statement. People may take it at face value, they are very unlikely to ask me what I mean by that. So, they will be extrapolating from their own knowledge and, if interested, simply guessing.

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I can think of several occasions when I have been interacting with people where they have absolutely no idea about what I know. Where I could have given them many gifts of power. They were too interested in the sound of their own voice and keen to have a mutual bullshit session. They missed an opportunity which might have become profound. They did not ask they told. I let them carry on talking.

It seems to me obvious that a part of incarnating as a human being is to practise and learn humanity. By all the numerical and material metrics you may be a rip-roaring success. Yet if you fail to embody and express humanity you have failed as a human being. You may gob off about immigrants, sue people for throwing milkshakes at you. You may turn a social media platform into a den of iniquity.

The tendency to soap box in an adamant manner is not really practising an inclusive humanity. You may get millions of followers and become an influencer, have social kudos. But exactly what example are you setting?

Are you really developing your humanity?

Are you somehow missing the point of your current incarnation?

How are you doing being a human being?

Hmnn…

Walking in Different Circles

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Yesterday it was blustery and with Welsh mist in the air. We chose to go up to the coast. With only three official shopping days left to Christmas we reasoned that Christmas lunacy would be inflicting the town centres. We travelled during “witching hour” or French two hour lunch time. The roads were quiet and up at île Renote it was deserted. I joked that there had been a zombie apocalypse which we were not aware of. In all of our nearly six years it was the most deserted we have seen it. They are still clearing up the devastation visited by storm Ciaran in November last year. We did the circuit and maybe saw half a dozen people and a dog. We said “bonjour” a couple of times in passing. Now that it is off season the locals greet each other.

People have asked us what we are doing for Christmas. They don’t get it when we say, “nothing”. We have received one paper Christmas card and an ecard. We have sent one card. We will probably go for a walk fog permitting in the morning and I will cook a roast dinner later. There are no decorations, no tinsel, no Christmas jumpers and no obligatory work do. We are essentially, that is in essence, out of the Christmas loony loop, in a different circle.

What is important to any circle or peer group varies. Earlier this year on LinkedIn I was able to satisfy my curiosity about what had happened to my year class for Chemistry at UCL. I was slightly surprised at how many had retired at age 60-61. I was the baby of the year with an end of August birthday. Which meant I got my degree aged 20. Because I got one less mark than Sue, I did not qualify for the last SERC quota studentship and had to look further afield for my Ph.D. place. Many of them stayed put and did their Ph.D. at UCL. I lost touch with that peer group and moved for a while in a different circle. I found something I could do – research. I was never keen on exams and strict syllabuses. I did OK but attention to detail was not my forte. I can get bored easily. It turned out that I probably had the shortest career and the lowest life time earnings. {My estimate based on LinkedIn profiles.} I haven’t had a job since end of 2006 but I did work freelance a little and then as a private tutor. I have been retired for five years now. I am pretty sure that I could not fit back into the academic circles I once haunted. I could not hack all those people.

Some of my peers from London are big-ish cheeses in academia and industry. Me not. They have a different orbit to me, what is important to them, is not to me. I am not sure it ever was. We were talking about someone who has landed himself in controversy in that field. The taint of controversy in academia is difficult to shift. I have a joke that the collective noun for academics is a “gossip” of professors. I hope he is OK. It is another world.

Over the years I have met some weird people. One guy was fascinated by Aleister Crowley and belonged to a group of people so minded. I have read some of his correspondences and the I Ching. It is not all that. That group of people might be interested that I get Count Saint Germain in my dreams. He is an occult hero and was also a chemist of sorts. In the science circles he would be seen as fictional / made up.

We have two problems to solve. Because of my osteo arthritis the garden has become too large. This can be solved either by finding a small income stream to pay a gardener or to sell the house and buy another. The second problem is the cesspit which needs to be brought up to current standards. For the moment that is the boundary of problem. My working hypothesis is that part-time work for me is unlikely because a) my age, language skills and lack of employment and b) under French employment law creating posts is not straightforward. Realistically there is little besides editing of scientific English which I can do here. I could go back to doing online “A” level science tutoring for people in the UK. The pay rates in France are poor in comparison. We will have, hopefully, reliable fibre optic broadband next week.

It is strange for me to get dreams with famous politicians in. I have never met any of them nor am I ever likely too. They walk in very different circles to me.

Our daily routine has me empty the coffee grounds, feed the birds, turn off the electric fence to prevent nocturnal coypu eating our lotuses and iris shoots, collecting wood from the store. The coypu came during the afternoon yesterday when we were out so the fence is on 24/7 from now. We will play Hokey Cokey, in out, shake it all about with Bibi the indoor cat. Felix and Gandalf, the stray cats are already waiting for their 3pm feed. Tonight, we have lamb tagine, the lamb is marinading in the fridge. I will stick it in the oven for around 4:30 PM. Then as dusk starts to arrive we will close the shutters and light the log burner. The outside world will be outside. We are due gusts of wind to 90 Kmh this afternoon. We will have no face to face in person social engagement for the foreseeable future. We see the physiotherapist early January.

This is the circle that I walk in.

Macron – Power – Yellow – Boats – Privilege Dream 25-09-24

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This comes in the context of having finished a course of cortico-steroids {no dreams} and Israel commencing the bombardment of Lebanon.

The dream sequence starts with a close up image of Emmanuel Macron. He presents a bit like a close up grey and white pencil drawing. I can see him very clearly and in front of him is a yellow metallic box with a yellow hand lever. He comes into full colour. He is concentrating very closely on the box and slowly pushes the lever forward. I understand that this is an act of power and that he is unleashing some kind of force wilfully.

The scene changes and I see another man in similar pose as a pencil drawing with a pencil “power box”. He too pushes the lever forward to release some power. I sense that he is British and may be Starmer. I am unsure but there is a similarity of shape.

I am now arriving at some kind of golf club / outdoor club. It is fairly rudimentary. I go into the shower block and take a shower in the communal showers and then go into plenary. Everybody is signing up. The scene now changes to the coast and in a small inlet there is a boat made up of about twenty individual rugby ball shaped yellow inflatable buoys. Each of these is bigger than a human by quite a factor. They are all tethered together. People are dressed in at sea heavy weather gear and are each taking up a position on one of these yellow inflatables. By the time it is my turn there are none left. I am told to go back to the club and wait.

The scene changes again and I climbing over a dry stone wall in the lake district. There is a wire on top of the wall. My leg gets entangled. I can now see the back of my jacket. On the rear neckline is a collar with a raised patterned motif. It is a bit like a Cadbury’s chocolate bar in shape but yellow-brown in colour. These mark my privilege. I can go first. I am somehow very flexible in the dream and easily able to un-entangle my leg and dismount the wall.

Dream ends.

Emmanuel Macron – Medical – Job – Teotihuacán – Dream 22-12-23 repost

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Here is this morning’s totally out of the blue dream.

The wife and I are staying in a temporary apartment. It is well finished and on an upper floor. It is in a city in a posh neighbourhood. There is a buzz on the intercom and I go to answer it.

“The car is here for you now, sir!”

I go downstairs and am driven to another posh looking building. It is of a Parisian style. I am ushered into a very elegant hall with highly veneered wooden panelling and elegant curtains. The style is palatial. I am standing there examining the beauty of the room.

In walks Emmanuel Macron. He is suited and booted. He walks over to me, shakes my hand, and puts his left arm on my shoulder. He speaks to me in English and ushers me through a disguised door in the panelling.

We are now in pitch black. I say that we need some light. A switch flicks. A bright white light comes on.

I can see that Macron has a large pair of callipers and is measuring the size of my head.

In front of me is a high technology medical examination room. There are an array of doctors wearing white coats. The head doctor says to the others that they must now assess every aspect of my physical health. They will need to know every detail including things like alcohol consumption and food preference. There is much muttering.

A tall smartly dressed older woman who is not a doctor comes over to me. The callipers have vanished. I can see from the way that she and Macron are interacting that they know each other well and he trusts her.

She asks me why I applied for the job as driver / adviser.

I say that I was not aware that I had.

She asks me if I think I could work with Macron.

I say that from what I have seen of him on the TV I like his character and approach so yes.

This seems to please Macron.

We are now standing by an immaculate piece of cabinet making. On it is a souvenir of Teotihuacán. The photo card has an image of all the temple complex buildings. Attached to each building is a precious or semi-precious stone.

Macron asks me who the best emperor of Teotihuacán was.

I say it has been wiped from my mind. There was a time when I was fascinated by all things South American. I knew them all.

He smiles and says that one of the perks of the job is that people give you interesting and thought provoking presents.

The medics have arranged a series of appointments for me.

A tall young woman with blonde hair in a pastel blue suit comes into the room. She goes over to the human resources woman. Apparently, the younger woman is to be my liaison.

Macron comes with me back to the apartment. Now the car is his limousine.

He comes up in the lift with me and opens the door to the apartment. He ushers me in. There is an understanding that we will meet again soon.

The wife is asleep on the couch under a blanket.

As the door closes, she wakes up.

I say to her that she is unlikely to believe what has just happened.

Dream ends.

St Germain – Imperial – Baby – Macron Dream 04-04-24.

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Here is last night’s sequence following on from days of poor internet connectivity and the end of the Human immobilier house sale mandate.

A little after midnight I am awoken to a swirling orange-yellow-red visual vortex of tremendous brightness and clarity. Something is stirring the web of life and significantly so. I relax into they visual field certain that it is benign for me and in no way threatening.

I drift off to sleep and see a vison of Rákóczi, Count Saint Germain floating in space. He presents as two alternating figures. One of darker hair than the other. He is familiar and the visual representation is much as it has always been. It is clear that he is up to something and that this pertains somehow to me. We share a mind space for a length of time and it is evident that he will be “around” for a while over the near few days.

I wake up.

I doze off.

I am talking with a young dark haired woman who has somehow just been created by Saint Germain.  She is heavily built and wearing blue jeans she speaks English with a feint European accent.  She wants to talk about science. She is going to be attending the centre for biological education in London, at Imperial College. I tell her that I am familiar with it.

The scene changes and I can see I. He is concerned about the goings on and on the steps outside the old Chemistry department going in.

I am now “there” with the dark haired woman and L. I explain to the dark haired woman that my erstwhile business partner and the best man at my first wedding was the son of a Nobel Laureate. L had no idea about the latter and looks surprised. I am given a broken semiconductor circuit board in which there are four different components shaped like diamonds placed face to face. They are falling out of the board and they ask me to look at it.

The scene changes and I can see reports of a research grant and associated accounts. They are full of discrepancies and subject to a formal investigation. It is D who is under investigation for fraud. I see an image of him concerned about the investigation.

The scene shifts back and the circuit board is literally falling apart. I start to look at the components under a microscope and can see that it has been poorly manufactured. Rushed. I then see floating in space a fake cut diamond made of glass that has several bubble like imperfections. It is flawed, imperfect and not for real.

I wake.

I drift off.

I can see on a large white sheeted bed a young baby in a white nappy. It is without hair and blue eyed. It is lying on its back and whimpering slightly. I am wearing white loose fitting trousers, no shirt, or socks. I lay on the bed and cradle the baby in the crook of my right arm. It presses itself against my chest and I kiss it gently on the forehead.

I wake.

The wife goes to the loo; she snuggles sup saying that I am hot. I kiss her gently on the forehead.

She rolls over and I drift off.

There is a very persistent vison of Emmanuel Macron which lasts quite a while. I understand that Macron is somehow linked to the baby.

I wake.

I build a new electric blue protection dome because it won’t be penetrated by visitors for a while.

I drift off.

I am now with a skinny young woman. We are in a room which is a complete and utter mess. She is talking very fast at me. I grab her by her hips and throw her onto a sofa. I have had enough and she shuts up.

I am outside with a couple of men we are trying to shift a blue portable toilet from the second floor of a barn. I push it a little and it falls backward off the risen floor and smashes on the ground. Job done. We can clear it up with a tractor later.

I am back in the room and the woman is acting all “poor me”. It is a complete shit tip. There is mess and leaves everywhere. The carpet is threadbare.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, would you? Besides I am pregnant.” She says.

“K, even if you are pregnant which I deem unlikely. It is not my child and, in all likelihood, you are being, manipulative. This is your mess, you made it. Not me.!”

In the dream the woman is of a similar stature to K but it does not resemble her. The feel is similar.

Dreaming sequence ends…

Dual Colonoscopy Dream 21-12-2024

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This is, for me, one of the weirdest dreams I have had, because it is so matter of fact and “normal”. The last time I had a medical themed “dream” was when I recalled seeing my laparoscopic colectomy from above. They were removing my T3 colon cancer. I was in theatre for around six hours and had an OBE. I speculated that I died briefly on the table. The after care in recovery for me seemed much more attentive than that for the others in the room. Before the dream I had a very strong visual / connection with someone I knew about 20 years ago whose surname is Colon.

The dream opens with me on an operating type of bed. I have a blue medical gown on with a hairnet. My knees are up towards my stomach and the gown is open at the back. I am lying on my right side and viewing a computer screen which shows my colon from the point of view of a colonoscope operator. They are withdrawing the instrument because this first attempt at a full colonoscopy has failed. They have decided to try a different instrument. The instrument is withdrawn. I observe this.

A nurse comes around to speak to my face. She tells me what is going on. She administers some sedative via the catheter in my arm. She tells me that they are going to give me a brief general anaesthetic. The doctor inserts the colonoscope and I can see it moving into the sigmoid colon and up towards the splenic flexure. The colon looks free of polyps and cancer. As he approaches the splenic flexure the nurse administers the general anaesthetic. I know from before that passing the flexure is the most uncomfortable part. I wait a few seconds. Then in the dream I can feel the anaesthesia come up and I become unconscious in the dream.

I wake up in the recovery room. In the dream I am puzzled as to why I am having this life like vivid experience of colonoscopy.

The dream ends.

On waking I make a note that maybe I should arrange to have my next colonoscopy early in the new year.

Omens and Symbols in the Waking Dream

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One of the purposes of dream working with nocturnal dreams is to use the skills developed therein to read the waking dream, the day quotidian. Totems, omens and signs have been “read” by humanity for millennia. At the moment our current totem animal is a heron. He was present this morning at dawn and I have just seen him again as dusk nears. Places with a rich folklore like here in Brittany will have their own omen vocabulary.

To some interpreting the waking dream as a normal passive nocturnal dream sounds a bit odd. Nevertheless, I have done this for over two decades. The thing here is to use intuition and not rational mind. Not everything in the waking dream is a dreaming symbol or an omen. Things which casually catch your attention perhaps at the periphery of the visual field can be symbols.

Somethings demand full attention.

To give an example. At exactly the moment we stepped out of the door of the physiotherapist clinic my eye was drawn to seven crows in the sky. Instantly they broke into a group of three and one of four they cawed and flew off in opposite directions. There was a surge of “energy” and because crows are the courier of/to power in a universal sense, I had the sensation that power is up to something and some of it is of a divisive nature. Power is on the move.  7 is the dreaming symbol for guidance so the crows were guiding. 3 is the need for creativity and joy / mixed abundance, 4 is stability. More deeply three is the dreamer and four is the dreamed.

You could say that I noticed a glitch in the matrix. But this is life and not software.

Bear with me.

Cars are the dreaming symbol for state of awareness. Your car reflects your state of awareness. If you have a car crash or suddenly the radiator blows, your car is trying to tell you something and is informing you of how you are in life. Have a think about any time you have had a car crash. What was going on in your life at the time? Was there a crisis? Did a way of being / perceiving come crashing down or end suddenly? I’ll wager that if you had a car crash your life was out of balance and perhaps badly so at the time.

In order to best do this, you have to intend to observe dreaming symbols in “real” life. It is actually quite fun and you might be surprised what you learn. Insights beyond boring rationality and reason can be had.

At the moment I do not get many dreaming symbols because I do not need power, the universe, to guide me much. I am not interacting a great deal with life outside the compound.

One time I was in Belgium being interviewed for a Gallium Nitride MOVPE growth job at IMEC a semiconductor and nanotechnology research centre. There was someone in place and they were interviewing behind the scenes. We had inordinate difficulty finding the hotel in the Leuven one way system. The interview was a bit weird. I had a stonker of a dream. As we drove back without sat nav into Brussels, expecting some trouble finding the railway station and car hire place, I took a turn on intuition and ta-da we were at the railway station. It was an omen telling me to get out of Belgium. Power, the universe, was showing me the way, get out of Dodge. A few hours later whilst sight seeing before we took our train, HR called and told me that I did not get the job.

I am reasonably confident that because I have written this piece, I will be getting some dreaming symbols soon, in the waking dream. Let’s see if the prediction is accurate.

Today we have had our massive volet-shutters repaired, more light, and after visiting Orange yesterday we have an appointment for fibre optic broad band installation early next week!!

As the crows predicted, things have started to move.

Dreams and Life Changing Decisions

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To be specific in what follows dreams refers to passive nocturnal dreaming, most often in the 4-7AM time frame. I am lucid in these dreams, knowing that I am dreaming, they are then either written by hand down in a journal on waking or typed into a word document.

The theory is that the reincarnating entity or dreamer selects a dreamed for each life in order to evolve, learn and thorough fulfilling a fate work at its destiny. The dreamed is the physical body or apparatus, its personality, weaknesses and abilities. In this context, I the dreamer, chose my parents, their circumstance and this lump of meat. Both my parents had a scientific leaning, it was fairly natural that I became a scientist of sorts. I was perhaps fated to study at a world top ten university, do my Ph.D. at a place with the world’s highest per capital Nobel prize density and later teach at another world top ten university in London, the capital of the UK. I am a trained chemical physicist.

In order to work with the theory above one has to literally follow, to the best of ability, what happens in dreams, even if that goes against “common sense”, plans and ambitions. The dreams may suggest things which you would prefer not to do and things which you do not like. This means that my orientation to life differs from the bulk of humanity. It may not sound too much but in practise it can be radical.  It would be very scary for someone prone to control freakery.

The dreamer tries to guide the dreamed towards the purpose of any given birth. The dreamer senses a destiny and needs to complete the fate for a chosen life. Fate being an integral over all karma.

People can play lip service to fate. They like to imagine that they are in control of their lives and that they direct life, that they can have life on their own terms.

At the moment I am fated to live outside society, physically adjunct. I got a new passport today. It has space for two emergency contacts. I was only able to fill one of them. I am not socially connected and that extent of disconnection is hard for most to comprehend or imagine. Few would believe how very little I use a mobile phone, despite the fact that I am reasonably computer literate.

I have made around six significant life changing decisions based on my interpretation of dream contents. Each one of these set off a sequence of events which were unexpected. I have had dreams which vastly altered my understanding of this current life. In making offerings after some of these dreams I have largely been ignored. A common theme in my dreams is that I will not be believed. I have rationalised this that I am fated not to be believed. It does not particularly bother me. That seems to be how it is.

There is “evidence” in my dreams of 7 or 8 previous incarnations, one of whom is a named historical figure. In most of these lives I have been associated with the “priesthood”. There is no way of proving this, I myself and inclined to believe this explanation. We have a pukka erstwhile ex-scientist believing something which would be for most of my ex-colleagues something of a stretch. It is a strange fate to find myself in this position and I do no know what if anything to do with it.

My interest in dreaming was rekindled by “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho.

For eight years I did a dreaming practice specifically to allow the dreamer, the Soul, to advise thence to take over the steering will of my mundane vehicle, the dreamed. I am a dreamer by predilection and in some arrangements, I am “in” the place of dreams the South. I lived as a child under the light of the Southern Cross. It is not too surprising that my dreaming is vivid and extensive.

Letting go of the steering wheel and handing it to my dreamer, the real me, was not easy.  However, retrospect suggests that the dreamer knew what it was doing because things unfolded. You need to have faith and courage to try this.

At the moment it looks as though there is not much complexity to my remaining fate. But one dream could alter all that dramatically…

It has happened before a sudden turn…

We shall see…