Category: Italianate Themed

Groups Souls – Dalai Lama – Cloying Awareness – Exquisite Sculpture – Dream 01-11-2025

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Here are last night’s dreaming snippets. Sometimes when I need a “cheer me up” the dreaming provides.

The dream opens at a sea-side town-village. It is like Tenby or Tobermory with pastel coloured brightly painted houses.

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I am with my group of souls or beings. The place could also be Denmark or Scandinavia. It is impeccably tidy and ordered. The light is light and bright without blinding. We are young in age, children and dressed in colourful togas. We often incarnate together en masse. We have known each other for aeons. This is the group to which I belong. We are beings made out of light each of their own colour witnessed by toga and not skin. There is a sense of primordial innocence to us. We are going in and out of each other’s houses enjoying the fluffy clouds which surround us.

I awake for a loo break a little after 4 AM.

As I drift off I have a strong mental image of H.H. Dalai Lama who fills the entire perceptual field. I sense he is deep in contemplation and sit there in that state with him silently for a length of time about 15 earth minutes. It seems much longer. We are happy and serene in contemplation together. A part of that visual remains as I type now.

I fade out and into sleep.

Sat at a pavement café in central London is a man of roughly my own age whom I had acquaintance of. He has bought me a glass of Coke with ice lemon and a straw. He is sat at a table there. He gestures for me to sit down with him. I cannot. I say that I have nothing personally to resolve with him, nothing to solve. I cannot be near his cloying preserving awareness. It is heavy and seeks to enfold and keep things the same. His awareness is like a cloying quagmire, it is old, ancient, dark and borderline evil. He gestures for me to sit again. I walk past. I have nothing to solve.

I walk off into a part of London I do not recognize. It is early morning, a little after dawn and the restaurateurs and bar owners are clearing up and setting up. It is warm maybe summer. The doors are open. I walk into one pub and put the Coke down on the bar counter. The owner is polishing the bar and tables and is happy to take the Coke. I admire the stained glass windows and period doors. I walk through into the next door pub which he also owns and out of the door back into the street.

I now come upon an Italian style restaurant which has a large ornate orangery-greenhouse attached. The manageress is there in her black and whites with a low apron on. She is organising tables in the orangery. The windows of the building are leaded in, like cathedral windows. The clear uncoloured glass is warped by the flow of age. The lead is painted crimson red. The overall effect is magnificent with interesting patterns of light refracted on the floor. I say to her that the light is truly wonderful. She concurs. She has a clipped English upper class accent. She say that it a pity that “he” the owner keeps rejigging the tables  because she likes the feel of Sicilian palace which it currently has. There are plentiful succulent plants. She is chuffed that I like “her” orangery so very much. It is her labour of love which she does not need to do. She suggests that I should visit the garden out back.

I follow her advice and enter a light walled garden with water features and wall alcoves with plants. In the centre is an exquisite sculpture / water feature. She says that it is OK for me and me alone to climb it. The stairway to the feature is made out of carved open books. The books are carved out of what looks like pewter, there is relief of binding and pages. They are joined together by a single metal rod/rail. Each book is by way of a step. In some the page writing is etched in relief. They are a testament to learning and library. The languages of the books are diverse. The staircase mounts a large globe of the Earth which has all the continents and oceans cut to scale. The globe is several times my size. I climb the “ladder”. Out of the North Pole a drinking fountain flows. Its flow is lightly pulsing and the water trickles downs wetting every side of the world. The water is collected in a fish pond in which the globe sits. The ladder passes over the pond. In the pond are ornamental koi carp. The manageress encourages me up and to taste the water. I do and the water is cool and refreshing nectar like in quality. Some of it runs down onto my white linen shirt. The morning light illuminates the garden and orangery.

The dream ends.

Italianate Piazza – Claustrophobic Room Dream – 20-10-2025

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Here is last night’s short dream had at Hilton Gatwick.

The first segment opens in a European city built around several hills with a river valley below. The roof tiling is terra-cotta and orange red. It has an Italian possibly Tuscan feel. The light is Mediterranean. I am with a few people, and we are going out in search of a well known piazza at which there is a duomo or large church. We are trying to find our way through the back streets and alleyways. We are in no rush. Despite taking serval turns we are unable to find the square. With ease we return to the hotel.

Several of the party do not understand why we might want to find an open-air piazza to dine in when there is a perfectly good hotel-chain style restaurant with a safe standardized menu. They invite us back to their room. In order to get into the room, one has to open the door, step inside, close the door and pass into the room past the door. The next person has to do the same. In order to get in and out one has to navigate the very restrictive one in one out doorway. The room is expensive and very claustrophobic. It is the same as all the other clone-rooms. If feels closed in.

We leave some of the small party in the hotel room and set off again into the evening air. In a small square outside the hotel, I speak to a dark-haired man sitting on a Lambretta style scooter. He is smoking. He says that we need to take the partially hidden marble alleyway to the left of the small square where he is and then follow the staircase up to the top of the hill where the big piazza is. There we will have views of the bay of Napoli and the mountain { query Vesuvius} as well as the church.

A few of us follow his instructions and find our way up to a large Italianate piazza around which are many restaurants with alfresco dining. There are music and a light easy-going vibe.

The dream ends.

Via Gambetti – Letter – Via Marchese – nagal Dream 11-03-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream it has a distinct Italian theme.

The dream starts with me sat at my desk. The desk is small and ornate. It is designed for writing and has stationery and quills. The feel is late 18th or very early 19th century. I am wearing pantaloons which button just below the knee, they are of a golden colour. A man comes in he is bearing a letter on a metal silver coloured tray. The tray is slightly ornate. The letter is addressed to me though I cannot see my name. I can see “Via Gambetti” as the address. I sense a silent “h” as in Gambhetti. I open the letter with a paper knife. The letter is written in a deep royal blue ink with a slanting italic script. I have been waiting for this letter for some time. It is written in Italian.

The scene changes to modern times, and I am in an Italianate piazza off which is a modern exposition building. The address of which is “Via Marchese della…” or “Via del Marchese…”. I go into the hall and a young woman hands me a conference programme entirely in Italian. I read and understand it. There are many high technology exhibitors with stalls and rooms placed around the large atrium. I start talking to some young people in a group. A man is a posh suit and his PA approach. He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “ciao, we are glad you came. Will you help us judge the best exhibit and most promising technology?”

I go off with them and enter a booth / room which is full of large screens and computers. Someone is playing a game / simulation. The simulation is a mix of military and aid, some kind of logistical clean up operation. The idea is all about logistical delivery and monitoring. I ask a young man to explain his work to me, because I am out of touch and out of date, Jurassic even. He says that he is very pleased to meet me and starts to explain.

We move on to “judge” various other exhibits. I am totally surprised in the dream that anybody would be pleased to see me or welcome my input.

At the back of the exhibition area is small seminar room which I know that I have used before. I make my excuses and nip in there to have some time to myself away from the hubbub. On the green-black rotary blackboard written in white chalk are the words “nagal exposed”. On the rotary white board amidst a multicoloured patch of marker pen is the word “nagal”. It is in relief, not coloured in and the colour of the white board behind.

I take a blackboard eraser to the white chalk and rub it out. I take a piece of blue paper towel to the white board and rub that out. I am very surprised to find these here. When I have finished, I roll both the white board and green-black board over to clean areas.

The dream ends.

“G”  Dream 22-9-20

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It is possible that this dream is linked to the one published earlier because of the Italianate feel.

In everyday reality

Yesterday the electricity supply to our gates suddenly stopped working. Our gates are in the South, the place of dreams. I emailed the manufacturer in South Africa for advice. After much investigation I found that the problem was caused by a loose connection in the wiring in the right-hand conduit, which I fixed. I got up around 4am and responded to an email from someone with a Zulu name and then went back to bed. I had the following dream between 6am and 7.30.

Dream

The wife and I are in our house one that we have moved into temporarily. It is a bit like our real house in terms of dimensions but very Italianate in feel. G arrives and we have along conversation stretching far into the night. The sense is that the wife goes off to bed and leaves us to it. Before G and I go off to sleep we put up a cartoon on a free-standing easel, the cartoon is to be a thought for the day.

The next morning G reminds me of the cartoon. It is a suggestion for me not to be so staid and rigid.

G and I go outside and notice that it has rained very heavily overnight. The garden is walled and grand and very Mediterranean. The path around the pond is very wet and red-muddy. The pond is like a mirror of our real life one, but different. It has a plug-hole corner where there is a water outlet. The pond backs onto a river. G and I run out to the pond and towards the river. I have difficulty keeping up with him and say to him that I have not tried running with my broken leg. This is the first time. He slows down. We walk along the path between the pond and the river towards plughole corner. The excess water in the pond is pouring down the plughole. Our jeans are wet above ankle height with the reddish mud, we are carefree.

We walk back to the other corner and I see a commotion on the surface of the reddish-brown muddy pond. I point this out to G and say that some predator fish is hunting. As we near the corner of the pond it looks like there is a turtle chasing fish. The water clears and we can see it is in fact a woman with long dark hair and a white shirt. She has something on her back that looks like it is a turtle’s shell. She is swimming freely underwater and chasing something. She is completely at ease underwater.

Later that day I talk with a tall dark man who is known to G.

The following morning, he is sat in the parlour wearing a dark blue suit. I do not remember him, so I ask him his name. He is called “Issy” or “IsHe”. He reminds me that we spoke the previous evening. I say that I had mistaken him for G. This man speaks with a proper, posh, English accent but I know in the dream that he is fully bilingual. The wife gets up and wants to know what he does for a living; He says that he sells pub tables. She presses him “what type of pub tables?  Bar tops, bistro tables or picnic tables?” He replies all types of tables. He used to work in the city but now he is here. He is a close friend of G. He said that they had an intense and long-lasting experience together on a workshop with some dream teacher.

Now G is with us and the four of us move outside onto a covered Italianate terrace with large terracotta pots and numerous plants.

One by one people start arriving. They are all known to G. One of them is a woman who is Spanish-ish. She is called M. She sits down and starts knitting. Several others arrive and after greeting G, they take a seat.

Looking to my right I can see the head of a painted mannequin over the terrace balcony. We go over to inspect. There is large, fully bearded man who is wearing the mannequin on his shoulders. He is Scandinavian. Next to him is a small dark hippy-ish woman who is his “wife”. G knows them well and hops over the balcony to do kissy-kissy with them both.

He hops back. He introduces me to one of the women now seated on our terrace. He says that her husband was killed by a “Nor” on some kind of other world journey.

She says, thinking it will scare me, that she can tell me about the “Nor”. I say for her to go ahead, not much phases me.

In the meantime, a fair-haired woman comes in and greets G. Her name is P. In the dream I jokingly think that this means she will be “trouble”. She kisses G and it is clear that she has a very pucker English accent. She promptly lies down on the floor at my feet (like a dog). I am seated on a chair.

I turn to the collection of people and say that I didn’t know there were so many bilingual people here. They reply that they/we are everywhere, you can’t get away from them/us.

Dream ends

In everyday reality.

Whilst I was writing this down, I went outside and saw two crows flying south-east. They made five caws.

Crows are couriers to power and 2 is the number of humility and understanding sometimes destiny. Five is the need for freedom and change.

G gives worksops on lucid dreaming.

Secret Garden / Princess Dream 4-3-21

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Here is this morning’s dream, it was very vivid.

I am walking in our current garden as it is and stumble upon a wooden door in a stone wall. The door does not exist in our physical plane garden. I reach down into the pocket of my combat trousers and take out the set of keys. I try the keys in the lock and one of them opens the door. I step through the door and close it behind me.

I am now in a magnificent Italianate garden, with stonework, and beautifully created flower beds. It has the feel of northern Italy, of Lago Maggiore. There are carved stone flowerpots and trellises with flowers growing over them. Up ahead is an ornate building which seems unoccupied, the wooden shutters are closed. I go up to that building and again try the keys. The door opens and I enter. I open the shutters, and this reveals a well-appointed ground floor appartement which now looks out onto the sea. I understand that we own this. It is a part of the property we purchased from Mr T. I think we might be able to rent this out. I might also be able to write here.

I see a door which appears to lead nowhere. I again try the key and it opens on to an ornate staircase. I climb the staircase and there is another well-appointed appartement, bigger and grander than the one downstairs. I find a room laid out with a drawing table, for technical drawing. On it is a very fine white cloth envelope. I pick this up and see that there is a message inside for me. It is written in blue copperplate and I decide to open it later. I look around the apartment and see that Mr T. has left many catering supplies from the party he gave just before he departed.

I hear a knock on the apartment door. I go down to investigate and it is the estate agent who is showing around a potential client. The estate agent is female, my age, and has with her a young beautiful woman with long dark hair. The agent is explaining that because of the pandemic she isn’t doing rentals but if we discuss things with the owner, we might be able to agree on something. I nod in agreement.

I show them to the room where the supplies are. The young woman now has a young boy with her, a toddler. I offer him some chicken crisps at which the woman says no he mustn’t. I find some grapes, and these are ok. He eats a few. The estate agent has left. The young woman kisses me on the lips, and I pull away. I say that I am married.

I spend the night with the young woman in the same bed as her and the boy. I am naked and they are clothed. As dawn approaches, I go to the window and look out over the see. I put on a pair of skimpy underpants which have the word FREEDOM written on them. Out of the window I can see the seashore, the sea and some rocks. I see a bright orange/red blob unfurl its wings like a phoenix. It flies over to near the window. The bird like object lands and amidst the feathers it has the face of a black man. It asks me if I am with “the princess”. I say yes because now I know that that is what she is. He says that all will be well and that I must first come with him.

I go to leave and again the princess tries to kiss me. I pull away. Although I am tempted, I know that to have sex with her is not the reason she has found me. She asks me will I return to them. I say that yes but first I must go.

Dream ends.

Boy – Italy – Cash Machine – Satellite Dish – Cats – Birds – Rose – Wolf Dreams -18-03-2024.

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The first dream starts with us welcoming a young boy into our house. He is sandy haired and with freckles. It is a French house with linear stairs and the boy is of French extraction.

He goes out for the day and when we come back, he has left us an ornamental plant and a bottle of milk on the stairs.

I say to him that this is now his home and he can place the milk in the refrigerator in the kitchens alongside ours.

I wake up for a loo break and learn that my wife has not yet slept.

I am in a garage around a yard of sorts where there are various units of an artisanal nature. I notice that from time to time a model car drives across the courtyard and into one of the units. The next time this happens it is a toy Mercedes. I follow the car into the unit and it tips over slightly spilling some cuboid white crystals onto the floor.

The remote driver comes in and he sees that I have seen the drugs spill from the toy car.

He comes over to me and I explain that I was a chemistry lecturer. I point him at one of my papers on carbazole. I know what the substance is.

The next day there is another delivery and I explain to him that I am not going to bust him to the cops because I used to do drugs, weed and ‘shrooms.

He is satisfied.

At this point a large minibus pulls up and collects the wife and I. Warren Gatland is driving and we are going South over the border into an important event in Italy. Not everyone has been invited. We drive for a number of hours. The sky clears to blue and the architecture becomes Italianate.  We arrive at a magnificent walled city reminiscent of Valetta. From our approach we can marvel at the buildings.

We get out and are sitting around on a piazza. Gatland asks what wine is best to have with pasta. He goes round and people in the group give various answers including Pinot Grigio. I say Cloudy Bay from New Zealand, a Southern hemisphere wine. He agrees that this is best.

We are the on some kind of boat in an underground canal system. Either side of the boat are exquisite carvings in white marble. I wonder out loud, “how many man hours went into the carving of that goat?” We enter a white vaulted and domed space with a jetty. We disembark and arrive at the lobby of a top notch posh Italian hotel. This where we will be staying and where the event is.

I ask at the front desk if there is a cash machine.

A grey haired man in a white jacket lifts up a wooden lid to reveal a cash machine. At first attempt I cannot get my CCF card into the slot. He asks me how much money I want. I reply £100. He says that that won’t last long here, things are expensive it will be gone in a flash. I put my CCF card in and type in my real world pin which contains 3 and 5.  I ask for £200. The card reader rejects my card. I then try my HSBC gold visa with the pin which adds to 23. I ask for £300. It too is declined.

I am mildly concerned that it is a posh affair and that I have no trousers which will fit me.

At this stage there are numerous very small kittens running over my hand with the machine and playing with me. Sat outstretched on the front desk is woman in a black outfit as per Sally Bowles in Cabaret. She is holding a cigarette in a black cigarette holder. She is feline. She wants me to pat her and play with her like I am doing with the kittens.

 I get up and the grey haired man and I climb up to the top floor of the hotel. It is in need of renovation. We are trying to fix the satellite dish which is the connection for the cash machine. We go out onto the roof. I manage to dislodge the satellite dish from its fixations. I tell that man that if he can get a signal finder instrument, I will be able to realign his dish for him so that it works.

We go down into one of the rooms on the top floor. It is a bit of a state with some graffiti. In the room are two red and green birds. They are long tailed and look like miniature parakeets.

I turn to the window in the room. I open it slightly and the birds come over to my hand. One sits on my left hand and the other on the window latch. I open the window further and both birds fly out.

In the sky formed of birds I can see the distinct outline of first the yellow rose of friendship and then a wolf in a howling posture. 

I am surprised by this. It is overtly Toltec.

Dream ends.

Italianate Bridge – Cave – Dream 10-01-22

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Here is the third of the dreams.

I am in an Italianate city very much like Firenze in style but much smaller in size. I am approaching a bridge over the river which has terracotta tiles on the roofing. I start to cross the bridge but pause to look at the water in the river. It is crystal clear and has a bluish tinge. It reminds me of the Aare in Bern. I am sorely tempted by the water and jump off the bridge into the water, upstream. It is not too deep nor too fast and surprisingly for a mountain reiver the water is slightly warm. I swim with ease to the other bank and when I get out all my clothes are dry. I see a path heading up a hill and away from the town. I take the path.

The path goes uphill and then appears to disappear. It does not really there is just a false summit, and the path leads between two earthen banks and into the entrance of a large cave. I go a little way in and surprisingly I can see well in the relative darkness. I note the cave.

Next, I am back in the town and approaching the bridge with the wife.  We both jump into the water, and I have a small miniature submarine like device that pulls us along under the water. We surface several hundred metres downstream of the bridge. We start walking back up the stream, in the stream, towards the bridge. An Italian man on the bank asks how come we don’t find the water cold. I reply that it is not cold he should try it. He thinks I am joking,

He follows us along the bank until we get to the path a little upstream of the bridge.

The wife and I walk up the hill towards the cave. I know in the dream that I am supposed to show her the cave and bring her here, possibly a number of times.

Dream ends.

My Funeral and Meal Dream {Sicily} 23-05-23

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Here are last night’s dreams.

The first dream opens with a setting in a graveyard. The graveyard is a city one and is enclosed by walls. All the graves are very close together. It is winter. Around an open grave there are gathered mourners dressed in long dark coats, some of the men are sporting black hats. There are expensively dressed woman in black with veils. A funeral is taking place. There is a priest dressed in black with a white frilly outer coat. He has a bible in one hand and on the end of a chain a thing in which incense is burning. He is carrying out a service, waving the incense.

I see a large fairly ornate coffin being lowered into an open grave. The coffin is suspended from a JCB and some men are slowly lowering the box with stays.

Amongst the mourners are some “worthies” and a few others who I once knew. I know that this is my funeral and that my current body is in the coffin. I also know that this is totally bizarre. This is for two reasons. I have left instructions in my will that I am to have a no-fuss economy cremation and that it is extremely unlikely that there will be anyone whatsoever at my funeral. I have no desire for any form of funeral.

Once the box is at the bottom of the grave. The priest puts down the incense and starts to read from the bible. The mourners bow their heads. It starts to rain.

The dream fades.

The scene changes and the wife and I are in an alfresco restaurant under a large wooden terrace on the patio of a restaurant. It has an Italianate feel and there are grape vines adorning the trellis. The waiter dressed in white shirt and black trousers comes over to take our order. He speaks first in Greek and then in French. In the dream he is a relative, a cousin of mine from Sicily. The restaurant is family owned and staffed. He is very friendly to us.

He takes our order for starters and brings a bottle of San Pellegrino water together with a carafe of ice-cold local white wine.

They have been waiting for me to come home to Sicily for a long time.

The mother of the house comes over an sits at our table to tell us of what has been happening for the family. She jokes that I need to get some sun because I look a little pasty-white. It won’t do for the family reputation. She leaves us a basket of bread.

Slowly the restaurant fills up and the sun sets. The atmosphere is very convivial. We have course after course and the word has gotten around the village that I have come back.

Soon some musicians arrive and start to play.

The dream ends…