Category: Buddhist

Buddhism – Rinpoche – Dream 22-12-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s dream had after 6 AM this morning. It is out of the blue considering what I have been exploring in terms of old French manuscripts.

The dream opens in the front room – sitting room in a large home in the English home counties. The wife and I are visiting a young woman and her family. She is a younger version of Dupinder from Aussie MasterChef. In the dream context she is an ex-student of mine and early twenties. She has a nice posh English accent with only the faintest hint of Indian accent. We are there with her sister and mother and father. They are middle-upper class and moderately wealthy. They are highly educated. I say that people like her family have added a great deal to UK culture and life. Their springer spaniel dog comes in and they are worried that the dog will bite or snap at me. This is its usual behaviour with strangers. It comes over to me and I offer it my right hand in a loose fist to sniff. It is very suspicious and growls slightly. I re-offer my hand and emanate warmth along it. The dog sniffs it and then sits to lick my hand. It lets me stroke it and then lies down in front of me, close, calm and happy.

I notice some Buddhist texts on the table and small statuette of Buddha. I comment to “Dupinder” that I did not know she was Buddhist.  She says that yes they have been going to the local temple/centre on a regular basis. Her parents have been life long and as of late she and her sister have taken to it too. I ask what denomination. She says that they are Theravada and no fuss Buddhism. I explain to her that I have more than a passing interest. She boots up her lap top and shows me pictures of her centre. It is housed in a wider building run by Tibetan Buddhists as a cross denominational dharma centre. On the outside of the building I can see Tibetan writing and roman scripts. The building has been purchased using the wealth of the Tibetan Buddhist “church” in exile. I ask who oversees the project and she says that Rinpoche does. I inquire further and she says that Rinpoche, a supposed Tulku, is titular head of the dharma centre but others run it day to day. The centre is in a town just outside the north of the M25.

At this point her father interjects. He asks me if I am a Rinpoche too. He has had a sudden intuition that I am. Caught slightly off-guard I say that yes it is more than possible that I am a Rinpoche, a reincarnated lama too. He says that he suspected this from the moment he first set eyes on me and from the way his daughter has spoken of me. He says that he thinks that I should go to the dharma centre to see if I am recognised. I say that I don’t think that it works like that. Me tipping up in such a manner would not go down well. For some reason he is very happy and he invites us all down into the big conservatory to have a light vegetarian snack / dinner. There are metallic thali plates with curries in little bowls, rice and breads.

The dream ends.

Archaic Deity – Archaic Iconography…

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Many depictions of deity are a tad dated. They arose in times when the power of kings and emperors was quasi absolute. The iconography has “radioactive” halos around sainted beings, chariots, swords and thrones. There are arguments about who stands or sits around the throne and on which side various beings are to be found. There are crowns and often a patrilineal succession of power. Humanity obsesses about organisational flow charts of the heavens and in the past who had career advancement amongst the Gods depended upon level of obedience and sycophancy. The celestial “human” resources department had severance packages to negotiate.

Fear of God put bums on seats and pennies on the collection plate.

These days the power of kings is much diminished. We don’t drive roman chariots all that much. The machete has replaced the short sword. The Heckler and Koch automatic has replaced the spear. The ultimate symbol of mundane power is a ginormous nuclear powered aircraft carrier equipped with stealth bombers. Thrones are old hat.

In constructing a deity and a pecking order of them, whether that be of Gods and angels or Buddhas and bodhisattvas, the notions are related to the mundane order of things. The iconography perhaps an aid for the illiterate. In many cases the “clergy” asserted power over flock and encouraged supplication therefrom. The “clergy” encouraged a notion that they were higher, perhaps better and more revered than the lay. The churches and temples extracted wealth and called it meritorious. It might help your journey in the afterlife to fund the claret of a bishop. It was a good pitch. People can read and think now.

I am not sure older notions of Gods and Buddhas wash as well these days. Despite what fragrances Unilever might add. Subscription to religious providers it probably falling all over the world.

There is a glaring difference in iconography between the seated tranquil garden statue Buddha and the tortured crucified Christ bleeding from his crown of thorns. This despite much similarity in their teachings. Man has emphasised the suffering of Jesus over his peaceful message. It prefers to show images of internecine cruelty and suffering rather than brotherly love. In our time there is much need both for tranquillity and for love.

Religious iconography is very often chavvy and overly ornate. It is showy and “look at me”.

“We have shit loads of gold! We the clergy must be powerful! Kneel pleb!”

Modern military power does not lend itself to very personal, even familial iconography. There is no big hearted daddy on the throne. Rather a couple of old men, fingers above a red button, ready to embody Shiva the destroyer aspect of deity. It is not an image of fatherly love. It is one of pendant wrath and nuclear winter.

Notions of deity need updating in a manner more suitable for modern mind, modern living. And no I do not mean a Marvel escapist universe. The sublime needs divorced from the family drama and the incestuous and the Machiavellian.

Spirit and consciousness needs to evolve away from the zoomorphic whilst retaining the feelings and value. A new form of understanding might spring from where we find ourselves now, so very obsessed with corporeal image and public relations spin-bullshit. Petabytes of images are quite a quagmire for the minds of mankind.

Yup…I think the old forms of iconography and depictions of deity are looking rather dated and may no longer be fit for purpose.

We may even need a thorough review of what we imagine deity and/or a God to be.

I wonder how might we imagine and create a God 2.0 ?

“Spiritual” Journeys

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I have used inverted commas quotation mark here because I struggle a little with how words have in a sense become tainted by multiple usage and being bandied about as PR. Spiritual as a word has had its impact and meaning downgraded to the point of near meaninglessness.

I am going to attempt to put into words something which I have hesitated to do. It is close to impossible. This cannot be undertaken without emphasising just how important a few years of my childhood were in my development, in this life. One constellation in particular left its mark deep in my psyche.

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It was by its light during an English language common entrance exam that I foresaw events near two and a half decades later. It was the harbinger and the key of a volte face in life. I left the harbour alone in my coracle adrift upon the Southern ocean lit by its solace. I left Cape Town after being burned on table mountain.

Later I had another foreboding which was also to find consummation over a similar time delay. Each of these were pivotal. That foreboding prevented me making a UCAS university choice against the advice of my school teachers.

When I was young and in an English boarding school as an expat child I got to read the lessons and the prayers in church. While the others sat with parents. It was like a duck to water that I took to the lectern and the prayer “chair” deep in the nave. There I found St Francis of Assisi.

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« Seigneur, faites de moi un instrument de votre paix.
Là où il y a de la haine, que je mette l’amour. »

« C’est en pardonnant qu’on est pardonné,
c’est en mourant qu’on ressuscite à l’éternelle vie. »

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This man was in tune with the Mahayana bodhisattva ideal. His words touched.

Unfortunately those with the skill of a chameleon can adopt any mask, any direction, any character they choose. Believe me I learned how to blend. And in blending one loses authentic essence.

At the end of my schooling I took general studies courses in Buddhism, cooking and Rastafarianism. Ever Jah, ever loving, ever faithful. Rastafari. I read all that I could on witchcraft and alchemy. I made “friends” with the librarian in our town.

The Buddhism was presented in an intellectual descriptive manner in which the various fetters were enumerated for debate. Although I understood, the manner was for me boring and definitional. I sensed beyond that which was being professed. It was during intense meditation sat in seiza at karate that I learned that I had in fact been meditating all of my childhood. I used to sit and observe. I used to wait. I was touched directly by the dreamtime out in the shimmering bush of western Queensland. The aboriginal pointing stick had cleaved something open.

And then when I went to university I mostly forgot. By the time I was doing my Ph.D. research I figured that I had found something I was good at. So maybe this was the future. I enjoyed “pissing about with lasers”. I was to an extent, life and soul of the party. It was only in the early nineties that I started to withdraw, as if driven by a deeper current, out into the hills, the mountains and the countryside. It set up a kind of imbalance. On the one hand was a “normal” life and career. On the other there was silence and quiet. My reading was more intellectual philosophy, science and philosophy of science. I noted that despite mundane academic achievement many of “the greats” struggled with non-salary paying bigger questions.

I was offered a choice. Fort Collins Colorado or Bern Switzerland. One of those would have brought me quicker into contact with things “spiritual” than the other. The Swiss francs were certain, so I saw the Berner Oberland and learned painfully of “qualität”. Something which I tried thenceforth to express.

In the mid nineties at the place of my prior foreboding I was brought to my knees. Despite writing excellent research proposals I was stymied and unfunded. A grudge held by a “competing” senior academic could kill a proposal with a mere word. I had a breakdown. The answer to life the universe and everything could no longer be found in the laws of quantum mechanics and thermodynamics. It seemed there was more. It was around then that my ambition faded and the picture of a life academic dimmed. I began to search in earnest. I opened myself up wide. Again I largely forgot and tried to rebuild a life after breakdown. For some unknown reason money for research and start-up came more easily. I was “successful” for a while.

In the very early part of this century I was tested by power. I had a taste of it and did not abuse. Like Galadriel I refused the ring and was no longer sorely tempted thereby. It was around this time that a series of what might be called micro-renunciations began. In which step-wise I renounced or was forced to renounce the accoutrements of normal life. Each one was more difficult and profound than the last. Slowly life was stripped of all that made it busy and hectic. Until in the middle of 2006 I renounced all and walked off into the metaphorical “wilderness”. Dramatic as that sounds, at face value it looked simple, at core it cleaved and parted, severed and up-ended.

I did not become a wandering mendicant with charnel grounds for abode nor skull cup for beverage. Though adrift I most certainly was. I had already learned as a child, the nature of impermanence. Strangely without accoutrement life did not cease, the world did not implode, nor did it stop.

When you are thrust  from an Outlook calendar ruled life, with hours dissected into segments, with meetings set for you, with each action seemingly accountable, into nothing. The meaning of time changes in an unalterable and irrevocable way. It is no longer a spreadsheet thing. The boxes, the rice paper walls of the day, dissolve.

At end of 2008 I left the map so to speak. I began a series of meditations which went beyond. There was nothing, despite my research skill, which I could find written. These “meditations” continued in the UK in houses close to civilisation yet separate in the English countryside. I can say that the rigor of these was high and they continued for many years. In around 2010-11 I began having Buddhist dreams.

In the early part of the century whilst still teaching physical chemistry I had a series of waking visions in which I had “om mane padme hum” tattooed on my forearms in Sanskrit and with me in monastic robes. These visions were sufficiently powerful to be present whilst I was lecturing Chemical Reaction Kinetics to undergraduates in South Kensington. It was around then that I got to express my compassion for others, to care for them.

Overlaid on a “Toltec” background was a distinctly Buddhist vibe.

All the while I had a seemingly normal life as a married man doing for quite a while “A” level science private tutoring. The outer world and the inner world differed and markedly so.

To me as a member of the elephant dreaming class there is no problem with the scholastic wisdom teachings of Siddartha and the more dramatic Toltec corpus. The latter is a guide, when viewed with clarity, to the navigation of glamour and illusion. There is probably only one truth expressed via many different approaches. The Tower of Babel has a lot to answer for…

This is probably enough for today…

Pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate

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Le rasoir d’Ockham ou rasoir d’Occam est un principe de raisonnement philosophique entrant dans les concepts de rationalisme et de nominalisme. Le terme vient de « raser » qui, en philosophie, signifie « éliminer des explications non nécessaires d’un phénomène » et du philosophe du XIVe siècle Guillaume d’Ockham.

Également appelé principe de simplicité, principe d’économie ou principe de parcimonie (en latin « lex parsimoniae »), il dispose d’une ancienne formulation :

    Pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate

    (les multiples ne doivent pas être utilisés sans nécessité)

Dans le langage courant, le rasoir d’Ockham pourrait s’exprimer par les phrases : « L’explication la plus simple est généralement la bonne », ou : « Pourquoi faire compliqué quand on peut faire simple ? » Une formulation plus moderne est que « les hypothèses suffisantes les plus simples doivent être préférées (il faut et il suffit) ». C’est un des principes heuristiques fondamentaux en science, mais ce n’est ni un principe de départ ni un résultat scientifique.

Le principe fait appel à une simplicité en termes de nombre d’entités, de concepts ou d’hypothèses utilisés, et non en termes de complexité de leur combinaison, les deux se contredisant généralement : si vous avez une explication d’un phénomène par la combinaison de deux causes séparées, le principe incite à rechercher une cause unique plus profonde qui serait à l’origine des causes préalablement postulées, ce qui donnera finalement, en cas de succès, une construction plus complexe mais avec un nombre plus réduit d’hypothèses.

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One of the interesting thoughts for me which pertains slightly to this blog relates to finding an internally consistent and comprehensive explanation as to the nature of the dreams I have had and which are archived in this blog. I would genuinely be interested to hear any explanation from the psychology / psychiatry profession which attempts to explain the scope of them. This specifically so given my prior training as a scientist and current life context as a relatively socially isolated retired person.

Those dreams which appear to point at previous incarnations can be discounted as merely dreams. There is no need to invoke the hypothesis of reincarnation. But saying things are just dreams is a bit of a handwaving dismissal. It is not entirely satisfactory.

Invocation of the single hypothesis of reincarnation renders explanation easier in context and does not require any complicated theorising as to just why or how come I dream about, inter alia, Buddhist themed, dreams. Inherent in this is a difficulty because it suggests that there needs to be some mechanism of transfer of memory between different lives, different incarnations. It raises the question as to what exactly is the nature of the “thing” which not only reincarnates but which is able to carry memory and recollection in the absence of a biological body. The neuroscientist is likely to prefer a brain and perhaps evolving synaptic scaffold construct to explain memory. Such a thing cannot exist beyond the soft wet matter of living humanity. There is no biological or biochemical hypothesis which can account for the notion of memory transfer between lives. The science fiction writer or scientifically inarticulate new-ager might say, “it is all in the DNA”.  If it were, it is not facile to explain how “Buddhist DNA” found its way to a small valley in the foothills of Snowdon. Yes my mother when tanned could pass for an Indian especially if she wore a bindi. But the DNA explanation does not really wash. My dad was ginger.

The easiest explanation is to blame an overactive imagination on my part which somehow breaks though during sleep. Perhaps there is a part of my deep sub-conscious which wants to be “special” and thereby invents some new DSM-5 type nocturnal mental disorder, the classification of which could be career enhancing for some psychologist or other. I have a form of delusional psychopathy which may or may not be common. After all who in their right mind would make dreams like mine public? Best kept secret to avoid public gaze. We can come up with the Whacko McNutjob persona.

The fact of the dreams and their recall are, at least to me, real. My speculation is that they are not “common or garden”.

This does not require the invocation of significance. I am just some bloke who happens to dream a lot. No biggie…

Provided that they are not significant there is no wider problem or issue.

If however we invoke, even tentatively, a putative wider significance, a gamut of implications might surface. A similarity to mystical vision and quasi-religious imagery can be drawn. In some circles that is significant in terms of context and perhaps faith. The follow on question might be, “why does someone who, was for a short while, deep in the UK based science community have such phenomena?”. This community being the self-assigned debunker of myths and pseudoscience. “Bah!!”

One could say that weird stuff happens, end of story. It  / he is just an anomaly.

The easiest hypothesis is that the hundreds of dreams archived here are all “just some shit that I made up”. The follow on to this is that I must therefore have at least some imagination and persistent inventiveness. One could counter with the deep philosophical argument, “you just can’t make shit like this up!” I am not sure as to what the motive might be for this inventiveness though others could speculate freely. Maybe I am simply an attention seeker. Maybe it is all some big game to make people question the extent and wider applicability of their self-diagnosed omniscience.

For me it is just habit. If I have a dream which I can recall and am lucid in, when I get up of a morning,  I type it up in Word.  I sometimes make a short note on a post it before typing. There are close to 100 dreams in 2025.

I personally have no strong need to pick an explanation and have that as a definite. A part of the art of dreaming is to enjoy the unknown and the partially or poorly explained.

I can see multiple implications which will almost certainly never manifest. Life circumstance does not support these weekly possible trajectories. There is nothing I can do about it.

I could say something groovy…

The coalescence of the dreaming onto and into the physical plane is not easy. Surprisingly little, though nascent in dreaming, makes it through into the “agreed” and “shared” physical plane realties.

He is just a feckless dreamer, head in the clouds…

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Each of us make our own versions of reality not all of which are entirely apt.

Anaesthetic Recovery Room – Tibetan Temple Dream 21-11-2025

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Here is Friday’s dream had around 14:00 – 15:00 hours CET time as I transferred out of operating theatre after hip replacement surgery and into the post operative recovery room.

I had the distinct sensation of being in a Tibetan style temple at a monastery or other religious centre. The inside of the building consists of a main chamber and a smaller “sanctum” or “sanctuary” at the back. The main building has mats on either side of and aisle leading up towards the sanctum. The floor level in the sanctum is higher than the main building. The ceiling is lower. The “wall” going down from the higher main building ceiling to that of the sanctum is very white. It is decorated in whirling relief design top and bottom. The designs form a row at the top and bottom of the partition. There is a sense that they are or have been golden. The craftsmanship is exquisite. For a Tibetan themed place, it is surprisingly light and airy.

Sat in rows either side of the aisle in the main building are monks in largely magenta robes. There are around twenty of them all special invitees. They are roughly equally spaced either side of the aisle.

In the sanctum there are two raised boxes / benches aligned perpendicular to the monk’s rows. These boxes are higher and decorated in fancy cloths or hangings. Looking into the sanctum are three monastics sat to the left and three people to the right. The one on the right furthest from the main room is me. Everyone else is wearing Buddhist ceremonial hats, yellow. I alone have no headgear. I understand the others to be high lamas. I am dressed in magenta robes.

At the back of the sanctum facing out into the main building is an even higher box / throne upon which is sat a chunky Tibetan man in more yellow / gold robes with the yellow ceremonial Gelug hat. He is younger than me. His robes are brocade and he is Karmapa. I am closest to Karmapa.

There is incense in the air and chanting. I know it to be of Tibetan flavour because of “benza” as in “om benza pani hung”  the chanting also has heart sutra, guru Rinpoche and medicine buddha to go with the Vajrapani. The “Benza” is very distinctive. The medicine buddha is for me.

As I come to, I expect to find myself in the temple but am actually in a high specification operating theatre recovery room with lots of kit and women younger than me in blue scrubs. I am disoriented and genuinely surprised. It takes a while to adjust.

The experience fades into normal post operative routines.

Snow Tiger – Bhutan – Vajrayana – Dream 16-11-2025

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Here is last night’s dream again out of the blue.

The dream starts in a front garden of a UK house on a standard modern housing estate. It is snowing and I am standing with my Snow Tiger. He is wearing armour like Iorek Byrnison the polar bear in “The Golden Compass” the tiger and I are one and the same. He is a White Tiger. I say that I am the Snow Tiger and I have been sent by Hermes. We are enjoying the silence of the night as the snow falls.

The scene changes and I can see the ex-wife with Manoj and Chris sat chatting around a table in a brightly lit modern house. They are oblivious and do not understand the situation in any way. They are being silly. I go into the room and they carry on regardless. The ex-wife belittles me verbally. In a single movement I grab her by the shoulders and throw her off her chair and away from the table. This stuns them all into silence. She understands that I could have completely broken her and them all. There is no malice on my part.

The scene changes and I am lying in bed. The ex-wife tries to sneak into bed with me and I push her rather forcefully out. She goes to tell my {dead} mother and father what I have done. They say in an attempt to manipulate me that I should not push them away. If I leave them I can not comeback. I am not touched by their threat. I say that I am the Snow Tiger and that my domain, my range is in Bhutan. In the mountains. That is where I live / am. They need to understand the difference between the Snow Tiger and how they think I am. I stand tall on my hind legs and then rest back to four. I too have some form of armour on.

The scene changes and I am in some grand building which is dimly lit. It has the feel of a temple or Dzong. We are in a fairly vast atrium. The colours are dark red, magenta and there are “tapestries” adorning the walls. There is incense and there are people in robes. On one wall there is a vast tapestry which has dark thangka colours and in it a young Russel Crowe sat centrally with a long flowing cape or blanket, velvet. Behind him the scene is crowded with many figures some meditating. Towards a tree is a Tiger on back legs sharpening claws. It is normal coloured. I move towards tapestry and become the Tiger to the tree. The moment I become the Tiger the thangka starts to animate. I drop down to all fours and the become a man again. I am wearing monastic robes.

I walk in the scene through some wide “castle” gates along an unpaved road to the gates of an impressive monastery. The gates are several times taller than me and hewn out of a very dark wood. They smell distinctly of ages. The doors have iron rings to open. I open the doors and step inside. There are two men there one wearing a vaguely triangular skin fur hat with an animal skin coat and another more expensively dressed. They have been exposed to the sun and weather. They are military. The more expensive one says that they want to check if I am true. I go to offer my hand and the rougher one breaks his staff into some kind of two headed martial arts weapon. The other one has some kind of flail attached to a chain / string. I know this to be deep tantra Vajrayana. They start to chase me.

Out of my pocket I pull a small decorated golden orb slightly smaller than my fist. I hold it up and out of it comes a stream of light azure blue spheres which head off in the direction of my assailants. The spheres swarm them without harming. The spheres fly around them. I call them back and they “plunk” back into the golden orb. The two assailants are satisfied. I understand that the test was “ago”. I have passed.

We are now in some unspecified European country. We are searching for a missing woman. We have her address in a city. But finding a parking spot anywhere near is a nightmare. We park some distance off and head off on foot. I see her leaving her apartment with a white near transparent headscarf on. I catch her up and holding her arm lightly tell her she has no need to be afraid. She has been in hiding. We go inside a light building and I say that she can relax. She takes off her headscarf and I can see that she is in fact a young man. He has adopted this disguise so as to hide himself and keep safe.  I ask if that feels better. It does.

The scene changes to some kind of school / dharma centre. There are a number of children playing there and they are under supervision. There is a teaching hierarchy and embedded method. I arrive with a couple of people and go through to look at the day book which records what happens. It is clear that I am there to teach more than just the children. I sit in the “staff room” and add a few elements to the book, specifically my dream about the Snow Tiger. A woman teases me that I will need to use shorthand and not full text. The centre is up in the mountains and has a great view over the valley below. I open up the blinds some more to look out. They are all wondering what it is that I will do.

I am joined by a tall woman with long blonde hair. She has a faint American accent and is heavily pregnant. I ask her how long she has got left. Not long. I say that she could have it on the 30th of August and have the same birthday as me. That way the kid will always be a bank holiday baby. She asks what it is that I am interested in. I say that I have an idea around Naropa and that I am well placed to speak on Naropa. In my orb are some things related. For some reason I have a distinct sense of familiarity with the woman. The young man from before will be joining us as some kind of understudy to me.

The dream ends and I think, “wow, that was a whopper!”