Category: Map Themed Dreams

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.

X-rays – Whales – Water – West Wales – Catherine – Lens – Gig – Tibet Dream 02-05-2025

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For the first time in over three months, I slept through to 4:30 AM. I was very surprised when I checked the clock on going to the bathroom. Here is a sequence of dreams / snippets.

The dream starts with me walking in multiple magnolia-coloured corridors carrying A4 x-ray images of my hips and knees. I am going back and forth and talking with various elements of the medical profession. There is something in these films which they have never seen before, implied something inside me, unique.

I am now in an ultra-modern house high on a hillside overlooking a sound, an inlet, from the coast. The feeling is of a damp pacific northwest America, as per the early Twilight films. There is forest and rain, Vancouver or Seattle. There is water in the air. There is a huge floor to ceiling glass window looking out to the sound below, there are droplets on the glass. I am close almost pressed to the window. It is my invalid home, for recovery.  Far below in the sound I can see whales swimming in a V formation. They are the same black and white non-orca whales from the dream before. My relationship is totemic. As they swim up the fjord inland there is one lead and two on each side of the V. I count thirteen whales in total. It is as if I am swimming behind the lead whale protected by the pod.

I am now at the waterside of the sound. Despite the northerly latitude I enter the water to swim. I can see my dive partner from Sharm El-Sheikh. She is young and attractive as she was then. She is dressed in a green bikini and somehow mostly above water. I swim towards her fully immersed in the cold water completely at home.

The scene changes and I am with my wife and Ashley. We are sitting on the front seat of a right-hand drive minibus. It is one of those continuous bench seats. It is getting towards night and dusky. Ashley is driving, she is in the middle, and I am on the left. In front of the steering wheel behind the dashboard there is a huge mess in front of Ashley, which contrasts to the space in front of us. Now dark we drive down a lane. It is deep in rural West Wales, not too far from the sea. The roads are windy. Ashley pulls up in front of a property and asks, “is this it?”

“Yes”.

He gets out and goes to open the door with a key. It unlocks but the door does not open. I get out and look at the very sophisticated modern locking mechanism. He does not know what is the other side of the door in this rather nondescript building, I do. I pull a key out of my right trousers pocket. It is at the end of a chain attached to one of the belt hooks. The key is golden and slightly shimmering.  I go to the door and with ease undo the mortice. The door starts to open, and a radiant light spills out of the doorway, through the small gap between door and lintel. In contrast to Ashley neither the wife nor I are surprised.

The next part of the dream starts with a strong visual image of Catherine Middleton. She is a bit thin and wearing only a long T-shirt. She wants me to look at her body which I do. I can see her small breasts and the scar from her operation on her abdomen. She feels frail yet determined. In the dream she wants me to have sex with her, which I know is not sex but cooperation. She wants to talk with me about George in particular. Something is bothering her, and she can’t let it go. She needs an explanation different from those she has already had. I comment that I would be happy to try to help.

The setting now changes to the English West Country, Devon, Somerset or Cornwall. Inland, I am due to run a large course at a conference facility. It is due to start in the afternoon, and the preparations are ok. There are people handling the arrivals. I have a team assembled.

Driving the minibus from before I pull up in a layby by a series of beachy coves. I get out and put my belongings in a black plastic workman’s bucket with a handle and head down to the beach with the bucket. I put the bucket on the beach. I enter the water and swim like I used to be able. I swim along shore and in and out of the little coves. I note that there is a strong current running along the shore in the direction of where I started. I decide to part body-surf the current back. Others are doing this too. When I get back to the beach my bucket is gone. It has my ‘phone and documents in. Sat on the decking of a beachfront bar at an outside table is a couple of American men. They are being loud. I can see the bucket with them. I go up to them and say that I need the contents of the bucket. They joke a little, but I insist it is very important because I have a gig to do soon. I look in the bucket and find what I am looking for. It is a small ~1cm diameter bi-convex lens in what looks like a slightly leaden glass. I hold it up to my eye between my left index finger and thumb. “This I what I was looking for!” They look non-plussed. I need to hurry back for the course I am due to give.

 I move on and am back in the van. I am calling to check something for the course. The call goes through to a public pay phone, US style attached to a telegraph pole outside of the modern pacific house from earlier. I can see the ‘phone ringing from where I am sat. The pay phone is quite fancy. Nobody answers. I try again and somebody answers the phone, but it is now not the pacific phone.

I am saying hello etc. There is no response. The phone start to crackle and a female voice asks me if I am who I am using my name and the prefix dr. I say yes. She says that she is Mrs. Andersen and is due on my course. She apologizes that she will not be able to make it. I ask why. She says that she is in the middle of Tibet. She is making a journey from East to West and that it is taking longer than expected. I say to her that it is fine and a very good explanation as to why she will not be attending. We both laugh a little. Life is strange.

The dream ends.

Dream of the Four Pronged nagal – 30-04-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream.

I am with Charlie whom I know to be an extrovert highly talkative nagal’s courier. We are in a courtyard with white stone walls some draped in rude pink bougainvillea. We are sat at a two seater small white bistro style table in the sun. He is talking animatedly and says that there are some people he would like me to meet. We are in a leafy rich suburb of Pretoria South Africa. He says again that are some people he would like me to meet, now.

The first is just around the corner. He leads me off to a small shopping / administrative area. There is a 1960s style polygon shaped building with a large, covered porch and outdoor seating. It is a community library and an outreach of the university. We enter and there are all sorts of posters in the vestibule advertising events. Behind the librarian’s desk is a medium height medium build white woman. She has an immaculate grey straight haired bob and is dressed in a well pressed blouse and trousers. There are small black butterflies as a motif on her white blouse. Around her neck on a lanyard are spectacles. Charlie introduces me and she speaks in a Germanic Dutch English accent. It is different from Afrikaans and highly educated. She says that she likes the East. I already know this, she is an Easterly Stalker who works at the university library most of the time. In her spare time, she is highly athletic and a free climber. She is lithe.

Charlie then leads me off South into a township near Cape Town. We go to a government run drop in centre / nursery. It is next to a pop-up health centre for adults with HIV. We go into the centre and I can immediately hear the booming tones of a large woman, who is telling someone off in a well humoured manner. She is laughing. As we approach, I can see a large buxom and overweight black woman with corn-row dreadlocks. She has a gold ring piercing in her left nostril and left ear. She is about six feet tall and, in all respects, larger than life. Around her are numerous toddlers and small children. It is chaotic yet somehow together. She hugs Charlie fiercely and squashes him to her bosom. When she sees me, she suddenly becomes coy and suspicious. She inspects me and breaks into a radiant ear to ear grin. There is no need for a hug because we can feel each other’s hearts. She is a Southerly Stalker.

Charlie then takes me to Western Cape to an isolated penitentiary inland from the coast. It is surrounded by razor wire and heavily guarded. We pull up to the guard house in our car. He stays in the car as only I am allowed in. The guards have been expecting me. They open the gate and let me in. I walk in unaccompanied. There are no more guards. I open the first gate and then a door. Inside in a dark room of considerable size there is an electric fence surrounding an enclosure. On it are danger high-voltage signs. I can see a man inside the enclosure. He is wearing a wide brimmed hat and a long dark brown bushwhacker’s coat. I can pass through the electric fence without any problems, with ease. I know that it does not constrain him either. We are at home in the darkness of the room. We stand brooding together in the darkness. He is a Man Behind the Scenes and I know him to be seventh ray. I can see his eyes but not his face in the darkness. We know each other very well, across lifetimes.

The dream ends.

Sinking Cities – Three Mice – Whales Dream 28-04-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream and it is unlike any other I have had.

The dream starts in the green arboreal where I live in far Western Europe. I am getting ready and those around me are making arrangements for my departure. I am going to see, to find out. I move instantaneous South through the air to the/a city on the equator in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I pass over the once golden walls and into the square in front of the palace precinct. The shiny gold has tarnished and lost lustre. There is water very slowly seeping through the paving and grass grows a little between the stones.

The city is sinking under the weight of corruption and decadence. Soon it will sink further into the sea. The weight of the corruption is vast, and its duration has been long. It has taken a marked turn for the worse in recent years. I can barely recognise the place I once knew well and held in esteem.

I move to a quiet bench in a park. There are a few residual trees there. I sit down and am joined by three impeccably clean mice all of whom are in rude health and vivacious. They chatter with me and climb into my jacket pockets. One in each of the outer lower pockets on my grey flannel suit jacket. The last into the inner pocket on the left-hand side of my coat in the soft dark lining.

We leave the city and arrive in the ocean. I am stood on the ocean. Around us is a pod of whales of many different kinds. I catch the dorsal fin of a large black and white whale who is not an Orca but of a different large species. He dives into the water and pulls me along the surface at great speed. On all sides the pod follows us. We are heading to the city at the Artic Circle. It is the outpost of the civilisation.

We arrive outside the city and the whale drops us off at the dock. It is clear to see that whatever glory has now substantially faded. The mice now pop their heads out of the pockets looking out from therein. The one from my inner pocket moves to the outer handkerchief pocket on the left-hand side to see better. We pass through the stone city gates and note here too there is a problem with rising water.  There is a stench of cloying decay and opulence faded. Here too is corruption.

We go over to a small walled courtyard. In the corner I can see a dead animal. It is a very large rat. I lift its head with a pencil. I can see a small scruffy bedraggled mouse eating the rat’s head. Both I and the mice I am carrying are totally and utterly shocked that one of their kind has fallen so low that it is eating the brains of a rat.

The dream ends.

Tadgh Gwen – Geiriadur – Forerunner – Museum Dream 02-04-2025

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Here are last night’s dreams the first was between 1.00 and 3:30 AM and the second more extensive though more jumbled dream around 5 AM.

The dream starts in an ill-defined place. There are no buildings or land or people. Somehow it is misty, foggy even. There is a sense of marshland, of primordial, of essence. Though none can be seen. I am having a “conversation” with a disembodied voice, a being of considerable power yet no form as we know it. He says that I am Tegwen Taig-Gwen Tadh-Gwen and Tadgh-Gwen. That I am in the Geiriadur, the dictionary, the tally of words. {Implicit is Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru.} There are many other names for me.

I know that gwen is white. I am white and of the white.

He says that I am the appetizer, the canapé, the hors d’oeuvre. I am the forerunner, the harbinger. One of only a very few. He says that I have borne the brunt and that there is more to come.

I wake up and take an Ibuprofen at around 3:30 AM to ease the back pain which I know is to follow soon.

I drift back off. I am now carrying an old cloth bound book which is in a state of disrepair. I can smell the book. I approach a reception desk in a university / museum setting. It is a bit like the V&A and Imperial College rolled into one. I speak with the woman on the desk who is dressed in serving black and whites with white gloves on. I say that I am looking for Dr X {I cannot recall the name}. She says that he has offices on the sub floor one. I can use the lift or the stairs. I know that I also have to visit sub-floors four and then seven.

–

–

I take the stairs down. I can see that sub floor one extends over all of the Exhibition Road area, underpinning all the museums and colleges, as well as the Albert Hall. The subterranean levels are vast and very extensive. There are galleries of books and files with dusty museum drawers. I make my way to the office. The door is open but he is not there. There is a lot of messy “horizontal filing”.

I let myself in and on a large Admiralty style table is a yellowed “Victorian” map yellowed about the edges. There is a steel rule and a set of geometry compasses. There is a second book which is companion to mine. I open it carefully with the steel ruler. The book opens on a page with mathematical symbols and matrices. I understand them to be spatial coordinates of places.

I go for a wander along the corridor. I find what looks to be a theatrical store of costumes, of clothing. I go in. The clothes are all for males. They are of a fashion from well over a century ago. There are breeches for riding and social. There is a pair of light red-magenta leather trousers, faded with age with hand shaped back pockets. There is a sudden realisation that these are my favourite trousers for when I used to ride. The wardrobe is in fact mine as is the office / desk / admiralty table.

I continue on down to the fourth sub floor. There is a large open gallery with military equipment. In the centre of the room is a display from which various staffs and pikes point out. There are more than a dozen such items all held like cocktail sticks in a lemon. With the shaft in an ornate metal holder. I select a large white-wood staff around six-feet in length. It has ornamentation on each end with metal inlays. I feel the familiar weight of the staff and find its centre of gravity. I start to twirl the staff and practise a stick form kata. There is a very Japanese vibe. Very quickly it becomes more familiar and faster.

I know in the dream that several people younger and fitter than me are coming to attack me. They have no idea about what I am capable of.

The dream shifts to a modern setting. I am sitting with M in a modern seminar room equipped with computers etc.. We are pouring over the mathematical notes and he is going to try to write some computer code to decipher them. I say to him that we must approach the notes from two angles, one scientific and the other seeing.

The dream ends.

———————

Notes

Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru – Welsh University Dictionary

Tegwen name – from teg (“fair”) +‎ gwen (“blessed”) in the 19th century.

Gwen – white, blessed, holy

Tadhg in Welsh is Taliesin or poet.

Taliesin is the seer poet initiate of Welsh history /myth. He is often seen as Myrddrin which the English have translated as Merlin and claimed the mythology as their own.

Cultural appropriation!!

Myrddin Wyllt (Welsh: —”Myrddin the Wild”, Cornish: Merdhyn Gwyls, Breton: Marzhin Gouez)

Chemical Leak – Surgery – Padmasambhava – Floods – Drinks – Dream 18-03-2025

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This dream comes after many days with very unsettled sleep due to intensely painful gout(?) in my right knee. I had 60mg of Codeine in co-codamol in order to get off to sleep.

The dream starts in a very modern building used for chemistry and science. The building is unknown to me. It is in London. On an upper floor where there are chemistry laboratories with fume hoods there has been a major incident. There are youngish people lying on the floor wearing white lab coats. Some of them have safety spectacles and purple nitryl plastic gloves on. They are not moving and are dead. There has been a leak of gas a chemical leak. The gas is an organometallic tin compound, a stanyl. It is volatile. Apart from being dead they look well. I am alone on the floor and immune to the leak. Slowly I drag the bodies out on to the landing and start to pile them into a heap ready for collection. From the landing I can see the entrance atrium which is rather grand. There is a glass banister topped with a hand rail. The bodies are both female and male. They are still warm to the touch yet floppy and lifeless. The work is easy and they do not feel heavy. There are well over a dozen bodies. I pile them up easily.

The scene changes and I am with G, R and T all of whom were / are academic chemists. We are waiting in turn to be operated on. We are to have sebaceus cysts removed from our faces. The man doing the operating is completely naked and devoid of any bodily hair. His genitals are visible. He is wearing blue plastic surgical gloves and nothing else. It is my turn to be operated on. I ask him why he is naked. He replies that it is a lot easier to clean up, the blood washes off. I understand the logic. He starts to cut out two cysts from my face. One of them is deeper than the other and he makes a slight mistake. He is worried that I am angry. I say that I am not in the slightest concerned with my appearance and that a scar of the right side of my face will match the one from the basal cell carcinoma removal on the left side. I suggest that he stitches away. This he does with a dark-black thread of a thicker than usual thickness. I get out of the operating chair and leave. The others are waiting nervously.

I am now walking around London with Padmasambhava, Guru Rinpoche. The atmosphere between us is fraternal as if we go way back. He is in a dark royal blue manifestation. We get into a right hand drive old Mk3 Ford Cortina in white. I drive us down to the embankment then we get out. Rinpoche puts his right arm around my right shoulder. He points with his left hand at the Thames water level. He says that in due course it will flood London. The water level rises and as it rises, we retreat uphill. Soon large tracts of land near the embankment are flooded. We work our way up towards Victoria and then Kensington. As we get to the north side of Kensington High Street, he shows me how much of London has been inundated by the sea level rise. He comments that much of this might have been stopped but it was not. There is a feeling of bond between us as we survey.

The scene changes and I am in what once was the Norfolk Arms but now is a hotel. It is very late well after closing time. I am in the bar with G, R and T. There is a young woman decked out as a waitress with a white apron and a black waistcoat. She is drying glasses with a towel. T orders a round of drinks from her and brings them over to us. There is some conversation about the chemical leak. The time comes and it is my turn to buy a round. For some reason I forget G. He feigns upset. I buy him a drink and the woman asks if I have any change, loose coins. She says that we always run out. I pull out coins from my trousers pocket to pay for the round. Her colleague, a male comes over and counts them out. He adds them to a small metallic coin-change box. He gives me back three coins. These coins I/we know are antique, they have a patina of age upon them. The others then go off to bed in the hotel and I sit at the bar with the waitress and her senior colleague. The night is our time, we are creatures of the night.

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.

Mount Isa – The Maltese – FCO – Dream 02-03-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 3:30 and 7 AM. This was under the influence of prophylactic paracetamol because my back pain can wake me in the morning.

The dream starts in Mount Isa Queensland Australia. I am there aged as I was when we lived there but it is modern day. I take a look at former abodes starting with Sulphide Street, then Moore Crescent and finally Opal Street. I linger here, Opal Street, a while and then make my way to Happy Valley state school. I enter the premises and talk to a teacher. I explain that I am a former pupil and would like to take a look around. Even though I am a child she speaks to me as a parent. I explain that I am an ex-science academic from Imperial College London.

As I walk around, I meet a small Italian girl who is dressed in a deep blue frock. I know her to be the daughter of my piano teacher (Menghetti?). We are close friends and classmates.  We embrace and hold hands walking around the school as it was back then.

I decide that I need to explore and head off into town. Downtown I find a gym with adults in it. They are lifting weights and there is an old man with a wispy beard who runs the place. I go in and start to talk with him. Again, although I am small, he treats me as an adult. I lift some weights the adults are having trouble with. He says that he recognises me because I look like my sister, who was more extrovert than me. I say that yes, I am Taylor.

I walk round to the town Olympic swimming pool where I was taught to swim by Bill Sweetenham (Olympic swimming coach team GB). The pool is much as I can remember but there are added facilities.

I decide that I must go to take a look at the Leichhardt River. It is in half- flood. On the way I meet a small part Asian / Chinese girl with her black hair in platted pigtails. She runs up to me and greets me as a long lost friend. We embrace and kiss like children on the lips. We are very close and the sense is that is across lifetimes. We walk close to the river. I enjoy the spray. We need to cross the river. I see a spot and we wade across with the water being over our knees.

I understand that there is a problem with the title to some land in my father’s name. There is a dispute as to ownership. I know that this might refer to land in Mount Isa or some of the development land which he once owned in parcels near what is now downtown Brisbane. They are trying to find the estate to resolve the title.

The scene changes and I am on an airfield close to a helipad next to a hangar. The airfield is grass. On the helipad is a large white military-like transport helicopter. It is official. I head for the sliding door and enter the passenger bay. The airman grabs my hand and helps me in. He says welcome and that he is glad to meet the one who is called by many “The Maltese”. In the dream I know that this refers to my lifetime two lifetimes ago. We fly off.

Now I am set in an office, old school UK, with a shiny wooden desk and a desk light with a green porcelain like elongated bulb holder. On the desk is a white envelope addressed to me in black fountain pen ink. I pull out the letter. It is on Foreign and Commonwealth Office letterhead. Below the letterhead is a handwritten note to me.

The dream ends.

Eight Tibetan Houses (seats) Dream 19-02-2025

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This came after we watched a documentary on how China is changing Tibet, making it more Han Chinese.

The dream starts in South or Southeastern Tibet. There is a sense of Shigatze. I can see on a map eight Tibetan houses or seats. They have terracotta roofs and although they appear as houses, I know that they are seats, monasteries, in the sense of high lama thrones. They are linked to lineages and are the bricks and mortar, the physicality. I collect them in a sense. I coral them in my non-physical arms. I am wearing magenta and saffron Buddhist robes.

The scene changes and I can see the same eight locations but now I am seeing the spirit, the ethos, the essence of these “houses”. It is the near indelible mark of the spirit of these places, how they have energized the world.

I wake briefly.

I am back looking at the map of Tibet. Again, I can see these eight centres, only now I can see history, lineage stretching back over centuries. This is the past, the lineage which has been cultivated in time and through time.

I wake briefly.

I am back again looking at the map with these eight houses highlighted. Now I can see mind, mind-stream and even the awareness or consciousness associated with these centres. I sense in the dream that this represents future in that the centres live not necessarily physically but in the mind-stream, the Buddha field.

As I awake, I joke to myself that is must be weird Wednesday as opposed to freaky Friday.

Tibetan Phrase Dream Follow up

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“I start out on my route and part the way along in or near Mongolia I am given two white plaques of an irregular shape. Phonetically these plates speak in the dream. They say, “Mon yet {yat} Dzong” and “Sprul yet Tsaay” I can see the associated Tibetan script but cannot associate it directly with the phonetics.”

ཡེ (ye, “primordial”)

Ye{t} could have been je or jay

DEFINING THE TERM MON

According  to  Neeru  Nanda  in  her  article,  “Monpas  in  their  borderland-A  historical  review”  she  stated  that  the  Monpas have a local saying that; “We are neither of Gyasar(Tibet) nor of Gyagar(India),we are the Mon”. The Monpa tribe of Arunachal Pradesh represents the dominant ethnic group of the region. The term Monpa meaning someone from Mon, is used either for people living in the region of Mon or for someone who is of Mon, irrespective of region. The term Monpa or Mon are hence used as a blanket terms by Tibetan to designate certain neighbouring region or people situated to the south. In many Tibetan writings, Mon, Monyul, Lho Mon or Shar Mon refers to a region, specifying a location mostly to the south of Central Tibet. According to early Tibetan sources, Monyul is situated in South Tibet, it was also known as Lho Mon, the southern belt of Tibet before the emergence of Kingdom in Bhutan and Sikkim Lho Mon was reffered to the people who lived in south Tibet. According to the historical sources of Bhutan, Sikkim and Tibet Lho-Mon is referred to as the inhabitant of south Tibet  which  includes  Bhutanese  and  Monpa.  Lho means south in Tibetan and Mon means people inhabiting in the region. Old Mon is largely connected to an area, which includes the whole of Sikkim state, Bhutan and the Mon region i.e. the Tawang and West kameng district in the westernmost tribe of Arunachal Pradesh.

Old Mon even included the southernmost counties of Lhoka and Shigatse Prefectures, such as Mon Tsho sna and Mon Gro mo in the TAR, which are adjoining border areas to Sikkim, Bhutan and Tawang district . Besides the description of the Monpa people of the Mon region as a “Scheduled tribes” in the state of Arunachal Pradesh, the term Mon is also widely used in other parts of the Himalayan region. Presently from the eastern Himalaya to the western Himalayas, Mon or Monpa is used as an unspecific meaning of an ethnic group. In the case of the eastern Himalayas, it is used in Bhutan, Sikkim and adjoining district of the west Bengal state. The trend of differentiating these regions as being not referred to Mon prior to the eighteenth century is strong in contemporary writings from the region.

Presently in Bhutan, Mon refers to an ethnic group living in the south-central districts and to a cluster of villages in Monmola  Trashithangyed,  Chiwog  of  Serthi  Gewog  region  in  the  Samdrup  Jongkhar  district.  In Sikkim and  n  the  adjoining district, Mon is referred to the region as well as to the Lepcha tribe and other ethnic group in the region.In the western Himalayas, the region of Ladakh and Kargil of Jammu and Kashmir as well as Lahaul, spiti and Kinnaur areas of Himachal  Pradesh,  Mon  and  sometimes  Mon pa  represent  group  of  sedentary  musicians  who  are  situated  low  in  the  social hierarchy. This lower social status of Mon is further recorded in Baltistan of Pakistan. The usage of term mon is also found in Central Himalayas region, where the upland hill people called or named their southern valley neighbours Mon.

The historical understanding of the different key term Mon, in its ancient and orginal term Man, is applied by the Chinese to several ‘barbarian’  groups  related  to  the  ch’iang  including  the  people  of  rGyal  rong.  The term is found in Tibetan text of the eighth and ninth centuries in the forms of Mon and Mong, and thereafter it is applied to all kinds of groups throughout the Himalaya with whom the Tibetan come in contact. The term lost any specificity it might once have had and came to mean little more than ‘southern or western mountain-dwelling non-Indian non-Tibetan barbarian’. The present range of term must have had its first impetus in a movement from the east to the south-east, and the affinities noted above incline one to look for the main point of secondary diffusion in the centre and east of ‘proto-bhutan’; not only the language but also some of social institution peculiar to the area may have served to link it in Tibetan eyes to the true Mon of rGyal rong.  The old towers  and  fortresses  in  the  Sino-Tibetan  marches,  the  mong-dzong  of  the  Nam  text,  are  parralled by many such building which have disappeared or lie in ruins in central and eastern Bhutan and in Kameng .

Sangey Phurpa, Rajiv Gandhi University

Journal of Visual and Performing Arts June 2024 5(6), 1889–1893

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“Sprul yet Tsaay”

At a push yet {yat} tsay could be yantse

—— Sprul {emanation} from (g)yantse

About Gyantse Dzong

Gyantse Dzong is a historic fortress perched majestically on a hill overlooking the charming town of Gyantse in Tibet. Gyantse Dzong, also known as Gyantse Fortress, is a symbol of Tibet’s rich cultural heritage and a testament to its strategic importance in the region’s history. You can trek to the top of Gyantse Dzong and overlook Pelkor Chode Monastery.

Dating back to the 14th century, Gyantse Dzong served as a military stronghold, administrative center, and royal palace, playing a crucial role in the defense of the town and surrounding areas. The fortress’s imposing walls, watchtowers, and strategic location offer a glimpse into Tibet’s past as a land of ancient kingdoms, epic battles, and enduring traditions.

Gyantse is often called the “Hero City” by local people, because of the determined resistance of the Tibetans against far superior forces during the British invasion of Tibet in 1903 and 1904. It was a slow and bloody massacre of hundreds of Tibetan people, who were only equipped with antiquated matchlock guns, swords spears, and slingshots at that time. What they faced were Maxim machine guns and 10-pound cannons.

As you wander through the corridors and chambers of Gyantse Dzong, you will encounter relics of the past, including ancient murals, prayer halls, and artifacts that speak to the fortress’s role as a center of governance and spirituality. The peaceful ambiance of the fortress, coupled with its commanding presence against the backdrop of the Himalayas, creates a sense of awe and reverence for the history and heritage it embodies.

Whether you are a history enthusiast, a cultural explorer, or simply a traveler seeking to immerse yourself in the beauty and legacy of Tibet, a visit to Gyantse Dzong promises a memorable experience filled with insights into the region’s past and the enduring spirit of its people. Join us on a journey to Gyantse Dzong and discover the stories, legends, and architectural marvels that make this fortress a cherished landmark in the heart of Tibet.

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Gyantse, officially Gyangzê Town (also spelled Gyangtse; Tibetan: རྒྱལ་རྩེ, Wylie: rgyal rtse, ZYPY: Gyangzê; simplified Chinese: 江孜镇; traditional Chinese: 江孜鎮; pinyin: Jiāngzī Zhèn), is a town located in Gyantse County, Shigatse Prefecture, Tibet Autonomous Region, China. It was historically considered the third largest and most prominent town in Tibet (after Lhasa and Shigatse), but there are now at least ten larger Tibetan cities.

Wikipedia

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“Sprul yet Tsaay”

Ye-tsaay

Wisdom of the emanation?

Or emanation of wisdom?

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ɕ is a sshh sound

ཡེ་ཤེས

Tibetan Etymology

From ཡེ (ye, “primordial”) +‎ ཤེས (shes, “to know, understand, realise, cognise”).

Pronunciation

    Old Tibetan: /*je.ɕes/

    Lhasa: /ji˩˨.ɕi˥˨/

Noun

ཡེ་ཤེས • (ye shes)

  • wisdom, awareness, knowledge
  •   (Buddhism) jnana

Proper noun

ཡེ་ཤེས • (ye shes)

    a unisex given name, Yeshe

From Wiktionary