Category: Attack Themed

Atlantean Artefacts – Karate -Scorpion Sting – Quantisation – Dream Snippets 15-02-2026

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Here are last night’s dreams / snippets. I’ll hazard a guess that the juxtaposition is unique to me.

The dream opens is a large ornate voluminous room of a museum. The place is gilded and golden shiny in hue. It is a bit chavvy. The place is however filled with a luminous light golden radiance which not everyone can see. I understand the rooms to be filled with artefacts from the recently uncovered Atlantis. The interpretations of the archaeologists are all wrong because they never lived there. I am wandering around with a man who feels like a much younger version of Théun and with Adrian. They are showing me around. They are trying to impress me. We are having fun and marvelling.  We have the run of the place tonight. Amongst the collection are a number of geodes of startling beauty, some meteorites and some special meteorite-geodes. I know these were used to facilitate communication across distances. There are other things which are unknown to modern day but which seem familiar to me. The whole orientation of that society cannot be understood in terms of 21st century reasoning. I am aware that there are other Atlantean artefacts held in secret elsewhere in the world. There is a good chance that I can remember what their purpose and use was.  

The scene now changes to a modern office environment. Terry is there. He is trying to get me to do his bidding. I think that his ideas are foolish particularly with respect to Japan. He is getting increasingly agitated with me. He says, “I will show you”. He proceeds to attack me with a very rigid straight line / right angles form of power Karate. It is very easy to block, avoid and get out of the way. By my using a more fluid circular approach he is unable to land any punches or kicks in any meaningful way. This only increases his frustration and anger at me. He is positively seething. I think him a rigid arse, a dinosaur stuck in his mind and narrative.

The scene changes and I am out in the bright sunlit desert with people who are younger than me. They are lanky men, a few of them, all taller than me. Suddenly one of them with brown wavy hair and a slight  American accent yelps out in pain. He feels familiar to me. I can see he has a large scorpion attached to the arch of his right bare foot via the embedded sting. He is screaming in pain and thrashing about in panic. I go over to him and ask him to calm down. I sit him on a rock. Taking the large hand sized scorpion in my hand I try to pull the sting out of the tender arch of his foot. It will not budge. I conclude that the sting must have a fish hook like barb under the skin. It would ruin his foot to force it. I gesture to one of the others to get a plastic Tupperware like container. I pinch the tail of the sting between the thumb and forefingers of both hands holding the part near the sole unmoving I twist the scorpion so that the tail fractures and snaps. I hold in my hand the large scorpion and can see the residual sting head in the foot. I put the scorpion in the Tupperware and help the younger man hobble toward the 4X4 utility half truck vehicle. We are going to drive to the town to see the doctor replete with the scorpion for species identification purposes. The scorpion does not seem to be phased and is sitting calmly in the Tupperware. The younger man has calmed down as we sit him in the back of the ute.

The scene changes to a seminar room in a think tank in London. It is American tech. IT  funded and we are kicking ideas around. There are a lot of bright younger men and a few similar women. The meeting is being chaired by a young Bill Gates look alike figure with appropriate “Marks and Spencer” style jumper.

We are taking about the quantisation of optical transitions in molecules. I explain to him that I have never seen quantisation as being so rigid and step like, as it is deemed. I explain that I have seen these transitions as being a form of hyper resonance. These levels, these states are very favoured, highly resonant. But you can drive a resonance when slightly off the energy if the applied field is large enough or the theoretical linewidth bell shaped. People think only of rigid quantisation whereas a new formulation might be had with a fuzzy resonance type of approach. “Bill” says that he knows people who use ultrafast lasers to map out both ground and excited state potentials and that they have found a discomfort with the rigid quantisation approach too. He says that is what happens when you do inordinately difficult laser experiments. He is looking at a large A4 black and white map printout. He is trying to figure out where the funding has gone for this think tank and tries to locate it on the map. I suggest that he might look at Ireland. He says no. I look at the map again and can see Regent’s park and the beautiful posh stone terraces to the East of the park. I say that the map must be of central London.

The dream ends….

Car Break In – Dream – 12-02-2026

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Here is one of last night’s dream snippets continuing the car theme and in which I use uncharacteristic language.

The dream starts with me upstairs in a warehouse conversion type space with ornate metal ceiling pillars and open stonework. The floor is wooden and polished. The room is large and I am alone. Downstairs is an up market shopping arcade with a Covent Garden vibe though much calmer and perhaps classier. There is nobody about. It is early morning.

I leave the room and go down though the arcade to my car which is parked just outside on the street. It is a bit like my old Mitsubishi Colt but more old school Jaguar E-type in shape. It has a long bonnet and is very sporty it is orange-red in colour. It is similar to a hard top Ferrari 250 but not quite Ferrari red. It is sporty and fast.

I can see someone ferreting around in the back of my car with the left door open.

I shout out, “Oi, cunt-face get out of my car!!”

A tall gangly man gets out of the car. He is very dark haired and has a pock marked face. He is a wrong-un and oozes a bit of menace. He says that he did not take anything. All that he found was this. He hands me a white cigarette packet which is open and in which are two disposable lighters. I take this he says that he found this in the back seat.

He then moves to attack me. But I use footwork to step out of the way and block his lunge with my left arm in a brush block. He steps past me. He lunges again and I once again avoid.

He pauses and decides if to attack me again.

I say to him that he had better think carefully about what he is doing because if he attacks again I will not hold back. At the moment no harm has been done.

He turns and walks away. Again I get the feeling that he is a wrong-un and no respecter of natural {emphasis here} law. There is a feel of evil about him, he is like a movie villain.

The dream ends.

Disruptive Technology – Legal Threat – Entrepreneurship Dream – 29-11-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 6.36 and 7.39 AM. I had changed my pain killer regime to co-codamol and managed to have the first half-decent night’s sleep since the hip operation a week ago. This seems totally out of the blue.

The dream opens in a steeply banked auditorium of a high end spa type posh conference centre. The room is filled with people for an open panel discussion quasi “Chatham House”. The participants are multinational and largely men. There is a mix of suits, entrepreneurs and scientists. The average age  is significantly lower than me, 30-40s. The conference centre is perched on a river valley wall some height up from the river. It is European possibly Scottish, mountainous or hilly. I know that the fishing in the river for salmon is good. On the screen at the front of the hall is a projection with the headline “Disruptive Technologies” and the tag line “Threats and Opportunities”.

I am sat to the back of the auditorium high up near the fire exit on the right hand side when viewing the screen. To the bottom left near the from there is a gaggle of people known to each other. One of them is surveying the audience and taking notes of who is attending. He catches my eye and I his. He does not recognise me and he turns to an older colleague. He too looks at me and they have a brief discussion. The older man recognises me.

As the session finishes the audience files out from the bottom left. A dark haired man with well parted hair comes up towards me. He is wearing a very expensive English tailored overcoat in wool or cashmere. It has black lapels. He is carrying a small leather wallet style brief case. He offers me his card in a posh clipped English accent. It is a small high class card with raised embossed name Lamour or Lamor written upon. In much smaller font is “& associates” together with a central London address. He belongs to a high-end high-net worth client legal practice. I am surprised as to why he has approached me. He says that “we noted you in the audience”. He goes on to inquire as to why I am there, what I am doing and what projects I have in the pipeline. I say that I do not know why I am there and that I have nothing whatsoever going on. He goes on to say that “we” will resist anything you try to do and put obstacles in the way. There is a sense of “establishment” possible government behind him. The “We” is English. I ask him if he is threatening me. He says that it is up to me how I view this but I could choose to view this in that way should I choose.

A bit flummoxed by this I decide to try to find out what is going on. I leave the hotel and note a small incubator business office space perched upon a bridge over the river. I arrange a rent free loan of an office and go down under the bridge. I meet As. I say to him that I need to show him something. Under the bridge and among  the renovation is an old public urinal. I say to As that this is where my grandfather (Harry) told me that he had won the lottery. We go back to rental office. News has gotten around the incubator that I have “rented” office space. The incubator is affiliated to a local university. They ask if they can announce my arrival in their weekly magazine / gazette. I say that I would rather not be public and playing along with the context I say that I would prefer to be submarine for the time being. The facilities manager comes in. She says that they may experience some external pressure. I say that I have already noted an alternate supply of energy and water. I take her down to the under bridge toilet and say that I can tap water and electricity from there. I show her the urinal and say that this is where my grandfather told me he had won the lottery. Despite my asking I can see that my arrival has been leaked in the online gazette.

As is keen to get started and I say first we need a “Photonics Buyer’s Guide” and a  rundown of the latest VC photonics deals. We try to source these and place them on the shelves in the office. I decide to do a background search on the legal firm “Lamour” my guess is that there will be little available. It is a word of mouth kind of outfit.

I am back in an hotel room with the facilities manager and As. Our hotel is more like a hiking bunkhouse and we are all in sleeping bags on one “shelf”. The facilities manger comes over for a hug and then goes back to her bag. As does too and we hug bare chest to bare chest. He draws strength and comfort and says that whatever it is I need him to do he will do it. He is glad to have found me again. He goes back to his sleeping bag and the light in the room fades.

I think to myself that was weird. “Why would a bunch of posh suits be interested in what I am doing?”

The dream ends.

Footnote : the geezer in the overcoat has some similarity to Marc Rubio.

Flying – Shot At – Antique Rifle Dream – 02-10-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. It is the first flying dream that I have had in a very long time. Previously a long while ago I was able to direct the flying as one might in a lucid dreaming scenario. I quickly realised that this, although pleasant, was not dreaming proper.

The dream opens on a grassy hillside looking out over verdant countryside. The hill is a part of a range of hills rising out of a very flat farming countryside, a patchwork of fields. It is UK or Northern Europe. The sun is low in the sky, East. It is not long after dawn and there is a dew on the grass. I am enjoying the morning sun on my face. It is morning and I am very much alive because of it. I feel the breeze blowing towards the South along the range of hills.

I lean into the breeze and allow it to lift me. I am soaring on the breeze like wearing a wing suit though much lighter in feel and slower of velocity. I can soar like a raptor, a condor on the thermals at the edge of the range of hills. I am dressed in my normal combats and a Berghaus fleece. My hair has grown. I bank towards the East.

There is a brief interlude in which I look down on Sicily from an altitude of space. I can see the geographic contours of the island as per a map.

I am now back on the wind flying around a hundred metres or so above the hillside. I notice stones and bullets starting to whizz by me. Someone is taking pot shots. I land behind a small rocky outcrop. Down on the flat land behind a dry stone wall I can see two old Land Rovers in khaki. There are men with slingshots and modern black semi-automatic rifles shooting at me.

I find my antique rifle which has a wooden body, the wood is a burnished chestnut colour, it is bolt action and has a small magazine. It has a telescopic sight. It is a hunting or sniper rifle. I hold the trigger grip in my right hand and bring my left eye to the sight. I can clearly see the men behind the wall. I fire a shot and notice it is slightly off where I am aiming. I adjust the sight and remember that the bullets are low calibre, there is not much of a recoil. I use my right hand to operate the bolt action. I then get various members of the party with their heads  in the sight. I know that I could easily kill them. Instead I aim a shot at the top of the stone wall. It strikes between two of the men. They recoil and duck. I repeat the action between two more of the men. The men are now all down behind the wall. They run for the cars and drive off. As they do this I shoot one of the cargo rails on top of the rear Land Rover. I can hear the metal on metal from where I am. I place the rifle on the floor and launch back into flight.

This time I soar higher and can see the cars winding down the country roads. I am enjoying myself considerably in the morning sunshine. On a hillside in the middle distance I can see my wife sat meditating. In front of her drying in the sun are a t-shirt and her combat style sweat pants. I fly over to look at her. She is wearing a full shawl. She is not yet ready to fully take flight. By mid-afternoon she will be ready. I will come back for her then. I head off towards the sea. I know some ocean cliffs there where I can be with the seabirds for a while.

The dream ends.

Special Forces Kidnap Dream – 28-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 4 and 7 AM. Another totally out-of-the-blue dream.

The dream starts in a very crowded place, some kind of event in the UK. It has the feel of a posh horse race. Some are overdressed. Everyone is looking in one direction. I am there with the wife who is standing next to me. There is noise and a feeling of crowd group mentality. The wife is standing to my left.

There is a very large man standing behind me and a big one to my right. He grabs my right bicep very firmly and the man behind me moves closer.  The one holding my bicep says to me in an Eastern Europe accent {query Russian} not to move. With his free right hand he shows me an automatic pistol in his military style belt. Under his bomber style jacket he is also wearing a black Kevlar style bullet proof anti-stab vest. His grip is very firm and he says that I have to go with them and quietly. The wife sees what is happening and I tell her to remain calm. We move off from the crowd and towards a waiting transit van which is dark in colour and windowless in the back. The other man is also armed.  They have short blonde military style haircuts and feel special forces or secret service. They have blueish eyes. I understand that they are the “muscle” or “goons”. All the while we are walking to the van the first man has a strong grip on my arm. I relax completely and do not resist. I can tell from the motion feedback in his arm that this surprises him. I am very calm and very focussed.

They put me in the van and drive off. Some considerable time later we are in an empty underground carpark which can hold maybe half a dozen cars. I can hear the metal shutter roll doors closing as they pull me out of the back of the van. I am wearing metal handcuffs. The driver of the van remains seated. I am now outside the van facing my two captors. From their movements they are lithe and physically fit. The bigger man must be 130-140 kg and well over six feet tall. In my mind I think second row forward. The smaller mans says that I have been inordinately difficult to find. That they have been looking for me for a while and that I am going to be questioned. They are going to interrogate me at “the” facility. The smaller man says that they are going to get into my mind one way or another, they always do. I think to myself, “good luck.”

The bigger of the two men stands in front of me and makes me put my handcuffed hands out. He then interlocks his fingers with mine. His right hand to my left and his left to my right. We stand facing each other  with hands interlocked. He towers over me. I shift my weight and get under his hands picking him up into the air. It is mildly painful for him. I have to put him down. He lets go and smiles. He jokes that the first round goes to me. Which both he and his companion find very funny. I am completely aware of the high level of brutality which may follow but know that will not bring them the answers, the truths which they might seek. I start to think how I might play on their superstitions and fear of the darkness and evils. I start to conjure in my mind the blue fire dragons which I will unleash when ready.

They lead me up to a shared living space. There are other prisoners there and a rudimentary kitchen. There is an Indian man and his wife. There is a Chinese looking man. In the kitchen I can see that the cutlery is plastic. They lead me off into a concrete floored room with a high ceiling and a single old-fashioned school chair. There is no toilet or heating. The room is sparse. The floor is sloping. They lock the door behind me. I go and piss in the corner of the room where the slope causes a small puddle of urine to form. I know that I am being observed on CCTV. I go back to the chair and sit down. I start to meditate and build the pool of blue electric fire out of which I can send dragons to watch their families, to observe and report back.

The dream ends.

Blue GTi – Pantera – Pursuit – Places – Mdina – Dream – 11-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream.

The dream starts with me driving a soft top dark blue {indigo?} Golf GTi type vehicle. It is right hand drive and has had a roll bar driver protection cage welded in. The sound of the engine is throaty and I can feel power under the throttle. The drive is similar to “whitey” my erstwhile Peugeot 208 GTi with 200 bhp. Though the handling is better.

I drive it into an urban French style garage. The type they have in the town centre and in 1960s films. I park and get out. I greet a man in light blue overalls. We know each other very well. He asks what he can do for me. I say that I have recently bought the car and could he look specifically at the breaks and the steering. The car is equipped with new top of the range tyres. I say that the steering felt a little slack on the way there. He looks at the car with interest.

He pops it onto an inspection ramp and hoists it into the air. He goes underneath and notes down the chassis and VIN {vehicle identification number}. Excitedly he ushers me to follow him into his office. He sits at desk and enters the VIN into the computer. He exclaims, “I knew it”. “You have bought a very rare special edition Pantera version.” The emphasis is long on the E and I know it to be Panthēra cat family and Jaguar. I feel corporally the Jaguar at his utterance of the word Pantera. I feel myself a Jaguar in the jungle. He says that these were a limited edition ultra-souped-up version. There were only a very few made and they are very high performance. He says that I have gotten a good deal. He adjusts the brakes and steering. He lowers the car down. He does not want payment. He has not seen one of these before in the flesh.

The scene changes. With the soft top down I am being pursued though a “medieval” town centre with very tight streets and corners. The roads have small squares, piazzas. On occasion I do handbrake turns to make the very tight corners. There are steps and gradients. Although I am being pursued by several vehicles I do not have direct sight of them. The feel is southern Europe, Mediterranean even. The pursuers are not police or official rather bad people who wish me ill, who want to hurt and even kill me. No matter how much they try I can out pace them in my special edition Pantera.

The scene changes and I am in a snowy pine forest with muddy “roads”. It feels Finland-Russia-Estonia. Again I am being pursued. I am now ultra glad of the roll bar as I am rally driving at breakneck speed. I am being pursued by people in slower four wheel drive vehicles. I know that I won’t be able to shake them until I reach the highway. After that they will be dust. The pursuit is relentless.

I wake up and can feel my thighs, lower back and sacroiliac plate. I know that I have been writhing around tensing my muscles during the dream pursuit. I can feel adrenaline. I take a while for my muscles to relax and stop hurting. I go to the bathroom and it is 5:15 AM.

Back now in the dream I am in Mdina, L-Imdina, in Malta. I know it is the Maltese Mdina. I am wandering the modern streets and know beyond question that I lived here and spent time here hundreds of years ago. I find my old residence down the street from a church. There remains a puzzle for me to solve. I am very comfortable with the Arab influence; it is a feeling which I recollect from my time among them as invited guest.

Next I am shown a map of Southern France specifically the protuberance which has Cannes and Marseille. I see both an ancient map and a more modern one. I have the knowing that “ago” I sailed from Marseille. I am now in my blue GTi top down driving West along a coast road heading for Marseille. To my right is a rocky bluff and to my left the azure-blue sea. I have wind in what would have been my hair. I am wearing Ray Bans and heading at speed along the open coast road. It is very early morning a little after dawn in high summer. The road is empty.

Next I am in a well-equipped kitchen in a large mansion like house. In front of me “mise en place” are various ingredients for cooking. One the other side of the cooking island is a young expensive posh woman whom I do not know. The kitchen belongs to her family. I sweat down some finely chopped shallots and a little garlic and more butter. I grind some pepper. I add some flour to make a roux, then some milk. Next I add a large glass of white wine which I can tell from the smell is a dessert wine. I reduce the sauce down. I am making a white wine reduction. I add some chopped fresh Tarragon. I know that I have also lived here near Marseille and that for me Marseille and Mdina are linked.

What I don’t yet know is how the Pantera or Jaguar fits in.

The dream ends.

Quasi-Post Apocalyptic Recycling Centre Dream 24-08-2025

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This dream from between 4 and 7 AM this morning. It continues the theme of very diverse subject dreams and seems also out-of-the-blue.

The dream opens is a very brightly lit portacabin type building. The light is stark and there is a hum of fluorescent lighting that is getting old and resonating. The room is minimally furnished and it is an office, a site office. In the centre of the room is Sarah C much as she was three decades ago only slightly aged. She is wearing blue jeans and a cream-white jersey. She is very pleased to see me. She is stressed and under pressure, the load is heavy for her. She feels overwhelmed and downtrodden.

She walks over to me and wants me to put my hand down the front of her jeans. These are ill-fitting and too loose. Like everyone else she is undernourished. I put my hand down the front of her jeans and cannot discern any genitalia; she is like a plastic doll though warm to the touch. I withdraw my hand. She wants me to work with her, to have a relationship with her and to help her with the business. There is a knowing that she might grow genitalia in the future if the relationship works out more. There is a knowing that human reproductivity has failed. She knows that I can help her. It is her business and she is for now in charge and trying to do her best.

I return the next morning just before dawn on a winter morning. I am dressed in heavy clothes and I continue to examine the yard. There is no law and order. Government has broken down. There is a distinct post-apocalyptic sense. I look through the yard, it is a recycling centre. Sarah and her team have collected various objects according to type and are busy trying to arrange proper recycling of them. There are stacks of computers and keyboards, piles of furniture, piles of clothes, light bulbs,  metal drums, car parts and bottles. There are larger items of metal. I go into the portacabin and there is a tall woman there with unkept hair and fingerless gloves. She is a part of the collective. She has a Scandinavian accent to her English and asks me to sign a “contract” which I do. We both know that there in no longer anyone to enforce the contract but go through the civilities anyway. I will work with them. She takes me on a tour of the yard as the sun struggles to pierce the gloom. She shows me the white plastic five gallon volume drums for liquids. These are very valuable and bring a good price. I comment that there are no plastic supermarket bags anymore, thank God. We both chuckle. In a part of the yard there are piles of car batteries, gravel, sand and bark chips. There is a stock of shredded vegetable matter of high wood content. This is to be made into fuel briquettes. I am due to start work there in a few days’ time.

The next morning the site is attacked by several men with flat bed “pikey” trucks. The employees are threatened and some of the scrap metal is stolen. The team are very upset and scared, the men have threatened physical violence. I am to arrive early the next day.

The next morning I am there. We have not yet manged to fix that large metal security gate damaged in the attack the day before. Two trucks with men turn up and make their way into the compound. They start trying to gather more scrap metal. I go over to one pair of men and tell them to stop. They get right in my face and threaten me to get out of the way. I do not flinch and stare back into the face of one of them They threaten to beat me up. I say that this would not be a good idea, they are welcome to try and that I would not recommend it. I say that it is time for them all to leave. The intent in me starts to swell.  The men sensing a growing malevolence in me get back into their trucks and leave.

Everyone breathes a sigh of relief.

The dream ends.

Academic Chemists – Derelict Site – Attack – Honour Dream 11-08-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 5 and 7:30 AM.

The entire dream is in England and not the north or the midlands but south to that from geography and accent. There is some kind of gathering of chemistry academics in the upstairs of a large pub or hotel. There is a vague feeling of conference but it is not quite that. It is more of a social gathering with a problem solving outlook. I am there but largely unacknowledged nor welcome. There is hubbub and people drinking. A man, John, comes in who knows me and says that he has just got promoted. He is a bit younger than me. I congratulate him genuinely. I say that it  is good news for him but that my job is very definitely at risk if not already lost. He concurs. I am spare. I am not entirely sure why I am even at this gathering. I do not belong.

The scene changes and I am walking with a woman roughly my age who works at the place of the gathering. She is a lynchpin for the departments there. She has grey-blonde hair. We are in South London and approaching a very rough neighbourhood. I am not sure where we are going. She says that she has a secret place, there. We come upon a boarded up set of flats that are fenced off and ready for demolition. The site access gateway if closed off with a large chipboard wooden gate together with health and safety signage about helmets and hazards. She unlocks the chain and opens the gate. I ask her if she is sure that she wants to go in. Yes.

I follow her in and we can see several blocks of low rise four storey flats. They are in a bad state of repair but not quite Gaza like. She leads me through the rubble to one building where we are joined by another woman. Together they make their way to the back of one of the ground floor flats, to the kitchen. She has set herself up a snug with teapot, table and bone-china. She boils the kettle to make tea and gets out a plate of cupcakes. She ushers me into her snug but I cannot fit fully. It is as if she and her friend have shrunk as has the flat. I can get my head into the room but nothing else.

Behind me I hear noises. I turn out of the flat and look across the rubble strewn ground between the buildings, the demolition site. I can see half a dozen young black men approaching. They are carrying weapons and acting threateningly. I can feel my wallet in my trouser pocket. They approach and I say to them that I will give them some money. I take out six £20 notes and offer these. The lead man does not want them. He says that they are going to “fuck me up”. I say that they are welcome to try.

He lunges at me and I grab his wrist in a Kotegaeshi aikido wrist lock and swirl him around. I cannot however get full control of his wrist. Others come up and start to beat my back with iron bars which I can feel through my heavy overcoat. I let him go and then shrug the attackers off. They start to give chase and I head to the chipboard gate site entrance. They are following me at pace. I am completely unconcerned because their blows cannot hurt me or injure severely. As they follow me though the gate I head onto a grass verge in front of another block of flats. There is a massive police operation going on with many police in protective vests, armed and with dogs. They see my pursuers and recognise them as people they want to arrest. Half the police break off the search and give chase to my attackers.

I go back into the derelict site and find a white tiled bathroom which is intact. In the flat above there is a large woman who is a giant. She is five times my size and wearing striped tights with massive Dr Martens boots. She is curled up under the ceiling and above my bathroom. She has platted pony tails and is wearing a denim pinafore dress with straps. She is my friend and we go way back.

I turn on the shower and note the complete surround of white tiles which bulge slightly under the weight of the giant upstairs. I take a long hot shower. I need to cleanse, to get clean.  As I finish a young man with blonde hair in white overalls appears. He is the electrician-plumber and is trying to fix the bathroom and the derelict site. I explain to him that it is near impossible because there is no room left in the gaps between ceiling and roof. I have tried but gotten nowhere. He says that he has been given the job of fixing things. I wish him luck. It will be a thankless task.

The scene changes and I am in some kind of meeting with around half a dozen male chemistry academics. They are the “generation” below me and rather full of themselves. They are talking management bullshit about targets and how they are going to fix the problem of which I am a part. Although I am there I am largely ignored. They are arrogant. I know beyond all doubt that they are heading towards a massive mistake, a fuck up. I try to warn them. They ignore me convinced that they know best. They think they have a vision and a solution. They are very badly mistaken and it will go very, very wrong.

They ask me what I have in my wallet. I take my wallet out and pull out first four and then another two £20 pound notes. That makes a total of twelve £20 notes. In the dream I know that money re-presents crystallized power or knowledge. I have in my wallet the jewels of awareness forbearance 12 and honour 20. My honour remains intact no matter what they do.

The dream ends.

The Somnambulant – Purple Wolf and Crocodiles Dream – 08-08-2025

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Here is last night’s dream. I have taken recently to using a knee pillow to ease my nocturnal back pain. It means that I do not start the day with lumbar spine pain however I am now more aware of the hip pain. I am slightly easier to get going of a morning.

The dream starts in a metropolitan area part Kurfürstendamm Berlin and part The City London. It is pan European and upmarket, upbeat, expensive. Despite being smart it has a whiff of decadence and loose sexual mores. If feels a little dated though contemporary, as if things need to change.

I am with two others of my kind. We go into a night club past bouncers with a red rope barrier. We are among many entering the night club even though it is still light. People are leaving their jackets at the coat check. The clients age ~20-40 and are of mixed sex and nationality. They are somehow a part of the “in” crowd. This place is difficult to get into and has an air of privilege. I know that some are “content” creators.

We wander through the many levels of the night club, which is big, vast even. We see people dressed expensively made up with false eyelashes, there is evidence of tattoos and cosmetic surgery. All the punters have dilated pupils consistent with hallucinogen use. The look to be awake because of the pupils. But in fact they are more like walking dead, sleepwalkers, somnambulant. They are all there because it is the “it” place to be. There are floor after floor of them. There is however no music, no sound, no talking. They are zombified. The look animated but are not. The lack of music in the nightclub is very eerie and joyless as are the clientele. This is modern life. We are very surprised.

Now in a dark basement of the club. I am told that I have met the velvet, the purple wolf and that this is the mood. There is anger. I do not see him yet the feeling intensely subjective is strong. Purple is not a good colour. I know that in part this refers to Théun and that he is a bringer and symbol of all that refuses to change, stuck hard and fast in the old ways. There is a lush insistence on indulgence characteristic of the outgoing sixth ray which presents a major barrier to evolution. People are stuck in their ways and vehemently adamant that they are right, they will growl, fight and try to destroy any agent for change. There is a longing for times gone by which no longer are. I have met the purple wolf and that is an emblem of all that refuses to change. It shows that clinging on to old ways and out-of-date cultures, preserving, is not moving forward. There is more meaning to this meeting which will become apparent over time and indeed layers are coming as I type.

The night club has now changed into an underground theme park water ride. People are in “hollowed out logs” which are like little boats and are being driven around the “amusement” park by the flowing water. There are simulacrum rapids and now people are vocalising, shrieking. In some of the logs are people I know from the past in London.  I am on the side by a sluice in which is an adolescent hippopotamus. It is trying to get out into the wider theme park and succeeds. The hippopotamus is friendly towards me. I know that it wants to turn over the log-boats for fun. At the side of the water course there is a pool which is filled with mid length crocodiles, not full Nile size but a couple of metres long, lithe active and hungry. They are the crocodiles belonging to the people in the log-boats. I know that these crocodiles are the dreaming symbols for cumulative shortcomings of the people in the boats. There are many of them. One of the crocodiles is exiting the pond and starting to make to attack me. It is snapping at me. I pick up a slightly smaller crocodile and place it horizontally into the opening mouth of the attack crocodile. I know in the dream that the attack by the crocodiles of the people in the club / log boats will be ongoing and unlikely to stop anytime soon.

The dream ends.