After a bit of a sleepless night, I awake to find my former university in the news and not in a good way. There are various comments on the nature of the working environment there.
Here is last night’s dreaming segment.
I am in a room with others, we are being threatened by a group of people with dogs on leashes. The dogs are straining to attack. They are like pit bulls. The owners are having trouble holding them back. I am quite relaxed. One of the pit bulls has inordinately long fangs and is angrily taking an interest in me. I offer it my right arm. It bites down hard and strong and will not let go. I am not worried about this. The owner of the dog tries to get it to let go. It will not. I place my left hand around the side of its jaws and squeeze. The dog opens its jaws and backs off happy.
I look down and it has left a mark reminiscent of a double vajra in oranges and red. There is no blood simply what looks like a tattoo on the inside of my forearm. I show everyone in the room my new tattoo.
Later I am working at the checkout in a supermarket and I show each of the customers my new tattoo about which I am slightly excited.
The double vajra (Skt. vishva-vajra; Tib. རྡོ་རྗེ་རྒྱ་གྲམ་, dorje gyadram, Wyl. rdo rje rgya gram) or crossed vajra is formed from four lotus-mounted vajra-heads that emanate from a central hub towards the four cardinal directions and symbolizes the principle of absolute stability.
In the cosmographic description of Mount Meru, a vast crossed vajra supports and underlies the entire physical universe. Similarly in the representation of the mandala, a vast crossed vajra serves as the immoveable support or foundation of the mandala palace and here the central hub of the vajra is considered to be dark blue in colour with the four heads coloured to represent the four directions-white (East), yellow (South), red (West) and green (North). These also correspond to the five elements and the buddhas of the five families with blue Akshobhya in the centre.
It’s also an emblem of the green buddha of the north, Amoghasiddhi, and represents his all-accomplishing wisdom as lord of the karma family of activity.
The raised throne upon which masters are seated when teaching is traditionally decorated on the front by a hanging square of brocade displaying the image of a crossed vajra in the centre, often with four small swastikas in the corners. This emblem represents the unshakeable ground or reality of the Buddha’s enlightenment.
A thangka depicting Bakula, one of Buddha’s sixteen arhats, with his mongoose.
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I am in a roof top garden, there is some sort of party going on with loads of people sat around and at tables. There are people of many ethnicities from all over the world. They are dressed in brightly coloured “hippie” style clothes. As the party carries on, they draw a curtain around one part of the garden and gather around some Buddhist icons. A south American man there starts to do some chanting. I butt in with Tibetan deep voice chanting. They do not recognise me and are annoyed at my interruption. I point out to them that it is my garden which they are in. I strike up again and do White Tara. I need a drink of water before I can find my voice. After several cups I strike the right note and do some White Tara. Everyone joins in and after a while the party resumes happily. The wife and I are in one segment of the garden when Anna L and a friend turn up. They have been travelling in India. She has remained pale but her friend has gone brown. She talks of her travels and I say that we will in time need to have a proper talk. She has something for me. At which point she shoots straight up into the air and then lands. She has brought many “ethnic”, clothes and trinkets. Next I am on a mountain train. I arrive at a terminus in a hillside town way up in the mountains. It is very much like Nepal / Tibet / Bhutan. I get out of the train and wander along the high street. Turning instinctively to the right I go up a hill to “my” palace. Again, there is a vibrant garden with peacocks. It is “my” garden. Later I make another journey on the mountain train and end up at another terminus. Here the streets are filled with market traders selling saffron and magenta clothes, together with gold trinkets and jewellery. I have time to explore. Everyone is trying to barter with the merchants trying to buy goods in various currencies. The merchants will not trade unless the currency matches the passport of the person trying to buy. I am not interested in bartering and look on watching. Somehow, I am “in tune” with the locals. I wander back to the main street and notice various pins sticking in my back. Somehow, I am now in an off the shoulder monk’s robe. One by one I pull the pins out of my back. They are made of a very fine gold pin topped with a tiny ivory chess figure. There is a castle, a knight, a king and a queen. I have also been adorned with much golden jewellery. I go into an emporium as I am pulling out these pins and sit down. I ask the shopkeeper about what has been happening. She says that they have done this to me so as to make me unattractive to the locals so that they won’t fall for me and want to have sex with me. Anna L comes into the shop and sits next to me. We start talking about my palace. An old Indian man with very short hair suddenly starts to talk in a very proper English accent. He says that she holds for me a key and that we must find it. It relates back to 1773. He says that I must get back to Bakula. We leave the shops and seek out the train station. “All trains go through Bakula”, says the station announcer. We look at the map and it is configured like this.
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Before this dream I had never heard of Bakula nor the sixteen arhats.
The dream starts in the UK in England. I am hosting a personal development course in a country house with a large events room. We are sat in plenary in U-shape around the side of the high ceiling dance hall. It is ornate but now carpeted. A smartly dressed tall woman with a feint American accent and long blonde hair is speaking on a slightly raised wooden dais. She is using a long wooden pointer to point at a presentation she is making, which is running on a white screen.
It is time for a break before the final closing remarks and conference wrap up.
Everyone gets up for refreshments which are served in the antechamber. I walk through this into the back of the house which turns into a smaller building. This is where I have been living in the UK countryside. There is a wooden shed and outbuildings. I am checking on the content of these as we will be moving soon. Someone has started moving the items of furniture. I say to a woman there that she ought to have known better not to disturb my system. There is a symmetry to how I have fitted things in the shed. They only go in one way and must come out the reverse way. The passage to the shed is narrow and there is only one way to do this. I am slightly angry and the people are sheepish.
I return to the conference and it is over. Everyone has left, they are all people from my past in one sense. I have missed my chance to do the summing up and to thank the speaker. They have mostly left in embarrassment. The sense of embarrassment is strong and clear.
The speaker is now playing a video recording of semi-rural Tibet. The camera is running through the streets and I can see a large white and brown temple up on the hill. There are prayer flags and modern Tibetan people together with some more rustic “peasants”. I look at the woman and she has changed into an embroidered gold and red jacket over her novice nun robes. He hair is now short. I ask her about the video she says that it is of her people and that she has been working for them in making my acquaintance.
At this point a small party of people enter the room. They are all dressed in ceremonial Tibetan robes. These are very opulent. The embroidery is yellow, red, magenta, and saffron. It is ornate and slightly garish. There is a scent of incense accompanying them They are headed by a monk/abbot who is old and his right hand man who has jet black hair. In the entourage there is a western woman with a round yellow-red embroidered cap over her bald head. I recognise her as someone whom I have met in this lifetime. I go up to her and say, “I know you”. She winks, smiles and says that yes, I do and that she had been sent to observe me. Amongst them is a tall athletic Tibetan man who moves with grace, poise and style. I point my finger into his chest. I say to him, “you are warrior and fighter.” He laughs and says yes. We can spar later using traditional Tibetan weapons to see what I remember.
Now into the back of the room furniture is being carried in by hand. I know it to be of a ceremonial nature and this has been carried from afar. My eyes are drawn to a very ornate chest with meticulous cabinet work. It is made in the shape of a Welsh dresser with an upper cupboard. The wood is highly polished, perhaps walnut. The detail of the closures is in gold. It is a treasure and contained within it are relics. Although not visible to the naked eye, inscribed into the wood in “magic” lettering are some words in Tibetan script. The calligraphy is excellent and the downward strokes of the letters are longer and more artistic than is customary. They have been inscribed with flourish. There is a sense that the intense black calligraphy has been “burned” into the wood over the centuries and that only certain people can see it.
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From the film Kundun, a portrayal of the 14th Dalai Lama
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The carpet on the floor of the hall has been rolled back to reveal a parquet dance floor of some considerable sheen. Amongst the entourage I can hear gossiping. “It cannot be him; he is too coarse thickset and muscular.”
I hear this and whip off my shirt to reveal my muscular bare chest. I say that I will cooperate with whatever it is they must do. Take a look if you must. I am now wearing saffron yellow trousers, training pants, that are “elasticated” at the ankles. I start to do a forward splits on the floor to warm up. I say that given I am nearly sixty I am surprised that being that old I can still do that.
One of the woman in the entourage says to me that I am much older than that both in this lifetime and stretching way back. I am nearly 73 she says. I do the mental calculation that I must have been “born” in the early 1950s. She says, “we tried to wake you five years ago”. You have been “asleep” and we have been waiting.
I briefly wake up and then drift off.
I am at an oriental Temple scene with ponds and in an immaculate garden. At first pass I think Chinese and then know Japanese. There are people there with round black ceremonial hats and flowing Japanese robes. I am poured into the pond as very large and bright, shiny goldfish. I swim in the Temple ponds and in the dream, I know that my second Buddhist life was Japanese. These ponds are my home, where I swim.
I the return to the hall in the previous part of the dream and the warrior comes into the room carrying some odd looking Tibetan martial arts weapons. Which I recognise. Some of the monks are now seated and are reciting mantra whilst thumbing through their prayer beads.
I have a very strong visual image of two yellow-hat Tibetan monks in full colour sat on a rock up in the mountains playing their long Tibetan alpine horns. That image and the sound persists even now. I can “hear” the horns inside my mind. They are precursors to a ritual, setting the scene.
I get up and greet the cat. I take my medication and put the coffee on. I sit down and start typing.
Three Golden Crosses – Science Museum – Caretaker of Knowledge Dream 18-06-2009
The dream starts with a vison of three golden and radiant crosses spaced equally on a golden-sun-like orb with a golden radiance.
I am then walking along beside a river dressed in my Yukata with some loose change in my hand. I come upon a family, and they are wondering about falling in the river. They have some shoes and I say that the ones with the heels are the best. Don’t worry about falling in the river you are very far from any waterfalls and the water is cool and refreshing.
The woman wonders if I am holding something back as all the gossip says I say that no I am not.
Then I am in the Science Museum. I am caretaker. What better place for me than to be the caretaker of knowledge. I go into a room and there are some beautiful postcards of Buddha.
I hear deep melodious voices:
“We knew when you first came into being all those millions of years ago that this is how you would always live. A life full of compassion and that you would always be a little mis-understood. A beautiful thing and that you would always do this for evermore.”
Dream ends.
Buddhism – Science – Museum Dream 02-06-2012
I am in a white building with a high ceiling. It is a place of learning perhaps a museum. Over to one side I see a young dark-haired man. He is wearing a pink polo shirt as am I. I start to speak to him of Buddhism in the West. This piques his interest. I say that more Tulkus are incarnating here. This piques his interest even more. He says that a part of his research is regarding Buddhism. His job at the museum is to do with this. It is also to do with the relationship between science and religion. He takes me back behind the scenes in the museum. As we walk, I tell him that I am an ex-science academic from Imperial College. This piques his interest even more. I comment that is it not a coincidence that we are similarly dressed in pink polo shirts? His eyes start to show some blue in them, a subtle glow.
We walk into his offices just as his female supervisor is leaving. I am not sure if I should shake hands with her or not. She walks past in any case.
Next, I am wandering around the museum, in the areas where people, the public, do not go. I come across a young woman who has her face painted in vibrant colours. The painting is of things like feathers arranged in a circle around her left eye. It is stunning. We walk off together.
Soon I am standing on a lawn. It is in a dip with a ridge around it about 5-10 metre away. There are some colonnades. On the ridge are some people including the young man and the painted woman.
I am talking to them about the spread of Buddhism to the West. I am walking as I talk. The people are all staff at the museum. A dark-haired Russian girl who is of some considerable intellectual prowess tells the others to listen to what I am saying, it is right.
Behind me two men, one with white hair, are walking along the path. They hear what I am saying but because they know me from a science context they cannot “accept” it. It is a non sequitur to them.
Dream ends.
Quartz – Diamond NV Vacancies – Science Museum Dream 09-06-21
I am at the entrance to the Science Museum. I am met by a young woman who is an events organiser. She walks me through my event plan, from where we will have coffee to the seating in the auditorium to where we have lunch. Then we move to where we will do the exercises. The idea is that this is a course for young scientists from the nearby university. It all looks nicely planned and the improvement work they have done on the museum is smart and clean.
I am then walking along a corridor and am met by three young men they want to know what the full schedule is for tomorrow. I tell them that I was planning to send out an email that morning.
One of them with blonde hair says that he was told to ask me about the spectroscopy of doping vacancies in quartz.
I say to him that under pressure the interatomic potentials in quartz change. As the atoms are pushed together the two potentials overlap to produce a little potential energy well at the top. The well is split such that it has two wells and a low barrier in between. Because of the low barrier there can be some electron tunnelling between the wells giving rise to a splitting of the energy levels.
I suggest that he look into the case of NV sites in diamond as this will inform him.
I am in a village hall here in Brittanny. There is an event going on organised by some of the British expat community. Sat at the back in monk’s robes is a man roughly my age with a small retinue. He is Tibetan. They are in monochrome. They are chatting amongst themselves. A woman turns to them and says to the man that he talks too much.
I turn to the wife and say that she has just told the Dalai Lama that he talks too much. He hears me and we lock eyes. He is grinning profusely and we both find the situation hysterically funny. He turns to his retinue and says, “The Dalai Lama talks too much!” They all giggle slightly because he is known for not saying that much at all.
In the dream I know that this is a previous incarnation of the current Dalai Lama. Because he looks different. I recognise him.
The sense of fun at being told off we share is uplifting.
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{On searching Google, it is the 13th Dalai Lama as an older man.}
The scene changes and I am now deeper in the hall with the wife. I am making an herbal tea with citrus rind, bright yellow berries and ginger in a large Pyrex bowl. I pour this through a sieve into two cups. We go outside to let it cool.
I say that we have to go back in because the meeting is starting. We find that someone has tidied up our mugs. We sit down on a couple of chairs and the meeting kicks off in English. The expats are mobilising for some cause or other. They tell us we have every right to be there.
The scene changes and I am in a mountain {possibly Tibet} monastery. I am with a young boy aged around ten. We are in a bedroom and he is standing on the bed. He is of Tibetan origin with jet black hair. We are touching foreheads and playing a gentle game of headbutts with each other. His English is impeccable and I tell him so. He seems very familiar to me. We are having a great deal of fun.
Someone comes to the door and escorts us to a room with large step like seats. The boy instructs me to go some way up the steps and I am joined by the wife.
Some men come in and put a carved wooden chair on the floor. The boy says that the Dalai Lama likes to have people higher than he because it reminds him to stay humble. The Dalai Lama comes in and sits on the chair. The boy stands next to him. It is clear that they know each other well. In the dream I know that this is yet another prior incarnation of the Dalai Lama.
The scene changes and I am outside by the shore of a mountainous lake. I am sat with a young white American. A dharma bum. In the background the Dalai Lama is organising a spectacle a ritual with white flags and huge prayer wheels. There is a horse riding display. Implicit in the dream is that the Dalai Lama will see me soon.
I am talking with the American about the nature of reality. I say to him that I know that reincarnation is real because I have recollection of my prior lives in dreams.
As the dream is fading, I get a full colour image of the current the 14th Dalai Lama and a sensation of joining Ajna centres.
I am standing in a column of light which is shining down on me. It comes from above. As the light shines on me it etches into my skin black tattoos, these form on my arms, my legs, my chest and my back. They are letters, words and phrases in Sanskrit and Senzar. The letters are in a black ink and cover pretty much my entire body much like the Bulletproof Monk. I carry these letters.
Next, I am in a city landscape and everyone is going to a party at city hall. There is a concert on there and people are gathering. There is an ensemble playing, it is like the Academy of Ancient Music and the instruments are all original period pieces. They are up on stage. On the ground floor and in a “box” is Princess Anne.
By this time, I have told people about the tattoos and nobody believes me. There has been some press interest but the men with their 1950’s style newshound flash cameras have lost interest. This is because there is nothing to see. The party continues on undisturbed.
I now find myself in a department store which is old style. I am curled up on the floor near a counter wearing a grey long sleeved shirt. The shop people find me there and nudge me to get up. I get up and as I do so the sleeves of my shirt fall back to reveal a list of tattoos in Sanskrit, Senzar and Chinese. These are now in very vivid royal blue and the calligraphy is exquisite, it is almost moving and definitely alive and vivacious.
The store staff are all bewildered by this and take me to a back office. In the foyer to this back office are two small Tibeto-Chinese figures. They are dressed in ceremonial costumes and approach me. They are dwarves and twins. I show them my forearms and they recognize the Sanskrit and Chinese characters; they guess that the others must be Senzar. The tattoos are now moving like a “stock ticker” scrolling across my arms. The dwarves are awestruck.
Whilst I am waiting for the store staff, I get bored and so leave the store, into a busy “New York” city street. It is raining heavily and my shirt gets wet through. It is clinging to me. I am wandering through the city in the rain with these vivid mobile, deep royal blue tattoos being the only coloured thing in a grey and black and white-grey world.
In the dream I know that I am carrying messages. I am by way of a messenger.
Later people gather around me and I show them my forearms. People now start to believe what I have told them before and all are astounded by the tattoos. I show church leaders and statesman. They are all stunned.
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In the city the younger people are setting up to go to a house party. It is the usual thing and people are gathering to go to someone’s house. They are all too busy with partying. They do not realize that the “party” is at my house.
I am now on a roof and there is a stack of old billboard type advertisements. There are several of us and we are sorting them. There is one which reads Toltec 7-14 which we find and as we do this one of the phrases in Senzar lights up on my arm. It says “Toltec 7-14 New Book” in Senzar. I know its meaning. I know it is both a date and has the meaning of dreaming symbols {7= guidance and 14 = new knowledge}.
I awake with very strong sensations on and in my forearms and chest. These are very similar to when I had the visions of myself in Buddhist monk’s robes and tattoos in Sanskrit of inter alia “Om Mane Padme Hum” nearly a decade ago. I can feel the place where the dream tattoos were, particularly on my forearms.
Here is this morning’s dream. It seems the wind, the dreaming is still in the south. This time it is the place of the dreamtime.
The dream starts with me in the back seat of an open top Cadillac convertible. The car is a pastel shade of pink and has white leather seats. It is left hand drive. Brian is driving and Neil is in the front seat. We are on the Barkly highway in Northern Territory, Australia. We are heading west to east.
I am reading a map and giving directions.
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We are approaching the border with Queensland. We are due to stop when we cross over.
Brian pulls over and we get out of the car. I put the map on the bonnet to show them where we are.
I take their consciousnesses with me and we soar into the sky in a non-corporeal sense. We fly along the length of the highway towards the Eastern coast and into Townsville. Everything is three dimensional.
We can see all the cars and trucks the length of the highway. Just before Townsville we see the signs for how to get into town.
We fly back to the car in Northern Territory.
In the dream I know that we are deep in the unknown and that I am mapping it out as is my wont.
I know that Brian is a Man Behind the Scenes and Neil his courier. They from the West are with me temporarily in the South. We are heading East. The wind is in the South.
Here is as excerpt from a much longer dream a so-called four pager.
There is a steep incline / cliff. I climb over the fence with my laptop and start to descend the cliff. The cliff starts to give way and I surf with it to the bottom. I am now in a dry riverbed. There is only a small amount of water. I follow the river under the motorway to a place where two rivers join. There is a Black Forest style house there. I go into the house. There is a fire burning on the hearth.
There is a small wooden chair. It has a solid back with two cut out shapes. I sit on the chair. It is someone else’s chair. I get up and sit on another chair. I put the other person’s chair up on a bed so that I can get a better look at it. As I do so I bang heads with whoever is on the chair. Slowly a cat materializes on the chair, and we start to have a conversation. There are a series of puzzles for me to solve in the house.
Out of the ceiling a construction comprising wooden squares suspended by string materializes forming a tunnel. I am to go up this tunnel. I start but because of the breadth of my shoulders I get temporarily stuck. At this point I can see a seminar where people are looking at a screen and there is an overhead projector projecting transparencies on the wall. People are sat around the table trying to understand the codes in the transparencies. I make my way to the back of the room and ask if the projector is in focus. The guy projecting adjusts the focus in and out. Those watching can’t solve the first riddle. I note that the first clue suddenly resolves into:
” SYNTHESIS”
We move on and a piece of Battenburg cake comprising four squares of yellow and pink appears.
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It cuts itself into three equal sections roughly centred at the middle. I know that I am like the cake cut into three equal sections. This is my configuration.
I continue on, cognizant of the theme “needing to solve puzzles“.
Dreamyoga 