Dreaming Back to Earth – 21-10-2025

After the hectic dreaming of our time in Cirencester we are back here. Last night I had two short dreams which pertain to the day to day.

In the first one I was conversing with an officious nurse / sister in French about my hospital stay and ongoing treatment. There is a particular type of woman here who can react badly when their dominion is in any way challenged. It is a reminder perhaps to remember that sometimes discretion can be the better part of valour. A lot of people here are very passive to “the system” like sheep. I doubt my piss-taking sense of humour will wash. I am thinking how I might need to manage myself for the upcoming dice and slice.

The second dream had me going for two successive haircuts. Hair is the dreaming symbol for social self-perception.

Our route march from/to the landing gate in Gatwick airport and the sheer bedlam cacophony of the security checkpoint standing in line reminded me that I am not able bodied. Next time I may need to get special disabled provision, to be wheeled around. Certainly a day sack rucksack is a bad idea. A wheely bag exerts less gravitational force on the bone on bone hip joints.

It is pretty clear that I am no longer practised in the art of human interaction. I am eccentric and used to not being around people. I dress scruffily and at little expense. To those who pay attention to these things I will look poor and unfunded, shabby even. My clothing not from a clone-chain designer, there are no branded icons. I am at first look, out of place. I am not embedded in the fatuous feedback form star rating Pavlova. The take home message is to be ultra bland so as not to sore thumb it. Say as little as possible. Keep my gob shut.

My self-perception has changed a little.

It looks to me to be settle in for winter. Do what you can before the scalpel and drill. There are a couple of chores left on the list. There is nothing external which needs my attention. The world is not my circus.

Maybe when the spring time comes after perhaps a second bionic hip, there might be something external for me to do.

All that highfalutin stuff has blown away like leaves in the Autumn. Not my problem, nothing for me to worry about.

Which means that we have at least one green waste tip trip on the cards. I feel several sessions with the leaf blower ahead.

This week I get to see if Moley McMoleface has been trapped. There is a bit more DIY and there are the pipes to the cesspit to check and if needed clear.

Then it is medical admin time…

Back From Blighty – Shell Shocked

That was the first time we have been in England for nearly seven years!

The first thing I noticed when we arrived at Gatwick was just how fat / overweight people were. It was also multi-ethnic and very hectic. I now feel positively slim despite being technically obese.

Stress-bunny city Arizona, well West Sussex.

Everything seems very expensive and crammed together sardine-style. Because they were not speaking French I became unwitting party to various conversations in English. I cannot zone out so easily.

Why do young women attach comedy paintbrush plastic eyelashes? Seems a common trend…

M25 on a Sunday afternoon in the rain, remains a fun and exciting day out. Four lanes of unadulterated joy…

Waitrose own brand tin tomatoes are still very good. Best in the class…

The proliferation of available ready meals has proliferated. These are much better than the poor offering here.

Waitrose, Pizza Express, Caffe Nero = good.

The variety and quality of restaurant food in the UK remains high. I had the best vegan burger I have had in well over a decade at Gloucester quays, as did the wife.  Top notch…

The number density of ambulatory ‘phone zombies is higher.

Software sending endless reminders and requests for feedback in stupid forms is a big downside. This plague is worse.

I am pretty sure that I had some AI shite sent to me, either that or a truly moronic human being does not understand the King’s English…

As a big plus I have invented a new game which is “make AI sound moronic and get it to reply literally to metaphor.”

“We hope that what you saw in the Palantir regarding the Balrog of Balham met all your expectations and that you will reserve your next hobbit hole with us. You now have a genius rating and can get a 13.573 % customer discount on your next adventure to Mordor! Please leave us a customer review my good sire.”

The dreaming suggests that I remain broadly unwelcome in some circles.

I am knackered. All those people. All that stress-bunny dashing about.

We have not come back with a definite no, never.

Nor have we come back all yippee when can we pack?

I am very certain that some of my political views will not sit well with the rising right wing tide. This shadow grows and spreads across Middle earth. Mordor rises. The ring wraiths will soon be about…

People near Cirencester were generally chatty and welcoming…

It was weird being in Gatwick again, something I knew better in a previous incarnation…

It is very unlikely that I will be back in the UK before next summer…the operation is due soon and that is the main thing on the dance card for the foreseeable future…

A bit shell shocked…

The quiet is nice…

Gandalf the stray cat has made a big fuss of us and she is sitting here just to my left tarting for some more food…her winter coat has started to thicken…

A Glitch in the Matrix

In the film “The Matrix” Neo sees a black cat walk across a hallway. The scene repeats its self a second or so later. The team understand that “they” have changed something in the matrix and that the agents are coming. Glitches in the observed space-time are indicators that the machines have changed the perceived world in the human battery stack.

One could rephrase that the flow of Dao has been perturbed and interrupted.

I have had numerous occasions when my assimilation of “how things are” has been turned head over heels. It can be very simple things which have interrupted the flow of Dao.

Earlier this week I had an appointment I made, cancelled by someone other than me. I doubt there was any malevolence, simply that I need to comply to method and process, to somebody else’s view of how things should be. I could not believe what was happening when I arrived for my appointment Monday morning having received a reminder text on Friday. “They” changed something without asking. Since then my dreaming has stopped, the flow has changed. The Dao has been perturbed and by a very simple seemingly harmless action. My course towards the future has been altered. It cannot be altered back. It remains to be seen if my dreaming returns or takes a break whilst I am carved and sliced.

During the night when I awoke as one dose of painkiller had worn off and before the next kicked in I was reminded of other glitches in the matrix. I noted that Monday was a glitch in the matrix. In one case I arrived at a ferry port expecting to be met and the other person had “forgotten”.  That rearranged things.

Another glitch in the matrix which was part of the most bizarre few days happened around a supposed job interview in Leuven. I had applied for a job concerning GaN semiconductor growth. As a part of my preparation for this I read up all the latest research and examined over a third of the company’s extensive patent portfolio. I was fully prepared for a technical interview. On arriving in town by car we could not find the hotel in the one way system. It took many iterations. This was a bad omen.

The next day I went to the interview. Because there was an incumbent in post I was ushered off to a secret location on site. I was “interviewed” by  several fairly senior people including the CTO and a vice president. None of whom had prepared. They gave me a PR bullshit presentation and did not ask much at all. I did not join in with the bullshit. The CTO and I did not gel in any way. The HR person was nice and gave me a pleasant probing interview. That night I had a dream with dolphins in…

The following day we drove back into Brussels. There was roadworks. I took a turn and it dumped us right in front of the Eurostar train station, as if by magic. The universe was saying get the hell out of dodge. Later walking around the train station there was a protest complete with large inflatable plastic dolphins. The HR lady called us when we were in the main tourist square to say I did not get the job.  By the time I got home I was discombobulated. “What the fuck has just happened!” It was a massive glitch in the matrix which lasted several days, an alternate reality seemingly overlaid. It was a disorganised mess and I dodged a bullet so to speak.

Around the same time I was interviewed for a space agency job to do LIDAR measurements from satellites. The “interview” lasted about half an hour. They were sat with name cards in a quasi-formal setting. Euro-fat-cats. I thought WTF again. Several months later whilst we were moving house in the snow I got a ‘phone call from Holland. It turns out they were offering me a very well paid tax free job. We went to sign contracts, look at houses etc. We had viewed the housing portfolio before and had our hearts set on one in central Leiden by the canal, which we could afford with the generous salary. Just as we were due to do a viewing we heard police sirens and the viewing was cancelled, for no obvious reason. “They” changed something. There were more warning police sirens. It turned out it was the outgoing director general’s rented house. Anyway I extricated myself from the contract subsequently and this kicked off a chain reaction of events. It was a glitch.

After each of these glitches in the matrix it takes several days or several weeks in which things get back to “normal”. Until a new flow of Dao starts.

The bottom line is that if something looks a bit too good to be true, it probably is. I will treat any untoward or unexpected with much more disbelief than I once did. I am heads up for any more incoming glitches.

Total Recall – Arnie Version

The other night we watched the 35 year-old version of “Total Recall” starring Arnie. I have reached the age when all remakes cannot ever be better than the original.

Spoiler alert….

The gist of the plot is that Hauser has his mind adjusted so that he thinks he is Doug Quaid a builder and wielder of pneumatic tools, who then goes on a convoluted journey to infiltrate the underground resistance on Mars whilst trying to restore his memory. After Kuato the leader of the resistance is killed Quaid then refuses to be mind  wiped back so that he becomes once again the fascist special agent Hauser. There is a plot twist where which reality is real is tested. Quaid is led to believe that he has paid for a secret agent mind-trip at a company called Rekall. The Quaid/Hauser superposition is unsure. In the end the Quaid nice guy dominates and he sets off an alien machine to provide Mars with a breathable atmosphere.

One scene suggests that the lowly manual worker Quaid is living out his fantasy as a Martian secret agent. It is all a bit far-fetched and the special effects, though leading at their time, now look a bit Blue Peter.

This is what co-pilot suggests for the above text.

“The plot follows Hauser, who is made to believe he is Doug Quaid, a builder on Mars. As Quaid, he becomes involved with the resistance, trying to regain his true identity. After the resistance leader Kuato is killed, Quaid refuses to revert to his former role as a ruthless agent. The story blurs reality and illusion, leaving Quaid uncertain whether his experiences are real or just a memory implant from Rekall. Ultimately, Quaid chooses his better nature and activates an alien device that gives Mars a breathable atmosphere.

One scene hints that Quaid’s life may just be a fantasy of being a secret agent. While the premise is a stretch, the once-impressive special effects now feel dated.”

AI has adjusted the reality…which is very considerate of it.

I guess we each choose our own narrative(s).

I have lost count how many dreams are in this blog. In the film Quaid is asked to consider if whatever he is experiencing is nothing more than a dream and therefore easily discounted.

With my feet grounded in everyday physical plane reality it is very simple to adopt the advice.

The everyday reality is simple enough. I can only rely on the measurable. Which tells me that around a dozen people read the blog according to WordPress stats. So were I to bin it only these would miss it. The basic reality is that I am a retired person with hip arthritis. Two decades ago I was a university teacher. {Assuming this is not a paid for implanted memory}. More recently I was a private tutor for ~6 years during which time I taught “A” level physics and chemistry. That is about it. I can still chop wood and do some gardening chores. My cooking skills are perhaps a little above average for savoury. The only “cakes” I ever made were hash cookies which were tasty and potent. Rocky was better than Leb, more chocolatey and unctuous…

In the circles I move in, life is very simple. On the cards is a visit to the hospital for a new hip. I will then be doing physio. Sometime around spring if we are not kicked out of France by the NF, I may be lucky enough to get a second operation after which I may eventually walk a bit better.

I am toying  with the idea of doing a blog / vlog about by incoming experience.

hip-hop-hip-op.fr and Bolshoi-hips.fr are currently available as is hippy-mchipface.fr

I’ll wager that such a blog would be more widely read…

I suspect that I could write something which is not dire, fearful and boring…perhaps when I was last at Rekall I purchased a mind-trip extension which includes delusions of creative writing capability…

Who can tell?

Planning and the Seventh Ray

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I’ll kick this off with a quotation from  “Esoteric Psychology II – Chapter II – The Ray of Personality – The Coordination of the Personality” . By Alice Bailey and Djwahl Kuhl. My personality vehicle is seventh ray by predilection.

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Ray Seven

    ” ‘I seek to bring the two together. The plan is in my hands. How shall I work? Where lay the emphasis? In the far distance stands the One Who Is. Here at my hand is form, activity, substance, and desire. Can I relate these and fashion thus a form for God? Where shall I send my thought, my power the word that I can speak?

    ‘I, at the center, stand, the worker in the field of magic. I know some rules, some magical controls, some Words of Power, some forces which I can direct. What shall I do? Danger there is. The task that I have undertaken is not easy of accomplishment, yet I love power. I love to see the forms emerge, created by my mind, and do their work, fulfil the plan and disappear. I can create. The rituals of the Temple of the Lord are known to me. How shall I work?

  ‘Love not the work. Let love of God’s eternal Plan control your life, your mind, your hand, your eye. Work towards the unity of plan and purpose which must find its lasting place on earth. Work with the Plan; focus upon your share in that great work.’

    The word goes forth from soul to form: ‘Stand in the center of the pentagram, drawn upon that high place in the East within the light which ever shines. From that illumined center work. Leave not the pentagram. Stand steady in the midst. Then draw a line from that which is without to that which is within and see the Plan take form.’ “

It is not possible to be more explicit than this. This great and powerful ray is now coming into manifestation and it brings new energies to man of so potent a nature that the disciples of today must move and work with care. They are literally handling fire. It is the children who are now coming into incarnation who will eventually work more safely and more correctly with these new potencies. There is much, however, to be done in the meantime, and the disciples upon this seventh ray can ponder on this formula and seek their own interpretation of it, endeavoring first of all to stand in the East, within the protection of the pentagram. As he realizes the task to be carried out and the nature of the work to be done by the seventh ray worker, and appreciates the fact that it is the magical work of producing those forms on earth which will embody the spirit of God (and in our particular time, this necessitates the building of new forms), each seventh ray disciple will see himself as a relating agent, as the one who stands in the midst of the building processes, attending to his portion of the task. This, if really grasped and deeply considered will have the effect of producing alignment. The moment that this alignment is achieved, then let the disciple remember that it will mean a tremendous inflow of power, of energy from both the aligned points, from both directions, converging upon him, as he stands in the midway place. Ponder deeply upon this truth, for it is this fact which always evokes a seventh ray crisis. It will be obvious what this crisis is. If the man concerned is materially minded, selfishly ambitious and unloving, the inpouring energy will stimulate the personality nature and he will immediately be warring furiously with all that we mean by the instinctual, psychic, intellectual nature. When all these three are stimulated, the disciple is often for a time swung off the center into a maelstrom of magical work of the lower kind – sex magic and many forms of black magic. He is glamored by the beauty of his motive, and deceived by the acquired potency of his personality.

If, however, he is warned of the danger and aware of the possibility, he will stand steady at the center within the mystical pentagram, and there suffer until the light in the East rises upon his darkness, discovering him still at the midway point. Then comes the revelation of the Plan, for this has ever to be the motivating power of the seventh ray disciple. He works on earth, upon the outer plane of manifestation, with the construction of those forms through which the divine will can express itself. In the field of religion, he works in collaboration with the second and sixth ray disciples. In the field of government he labors, building those forms which will enable the first ray activity to be expressed. In the field of business, he cooperates with third ray energies and the executives of the Plan. In the field of science, he aids and assists the fifth ray workers. He is the expression of the builder, and the creator, bringing into outer manifestation God’s Plan. He begins, however, with himself, and seeks to bring into expression the plan of his soul in his own setting and worldly situation. Until he can do this, he is unable to stand in the East within the pentagram.

It is occultly said that “the pentagram is open and a place of danger when the disciple knows not order within his own life, and when the ritual of the soul is not imposed and its rhythm not obeyed. The pentagram is closed when order is restored and the ritual of the Master is imposed.” The writing goes on to say that “if the disciple enters through the open pentagram, he dies. If he passes over into the closed pentagram, he lives. If he transmutes the pentagram into a ring of fire, he serves the Plan.”

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The seventh ray, an incoming influence or mood, is often known as Synthesis in which things diverse are brought together in the cauldron of inspiration to synthesise something whole and new out of the wider parts. It is also known as the ray of ritual magic or ceremonial order. A good plan has mathematical grade beauty to it. Ritual magic can be used to bewitch the masses as Hitler knew in his mass events. Tripartite mantra chanted with gestures hypnotises and galvanises the herd.

I am in my element scoping out and planning. Or rather I was because that stage of life is seemingly now past. I enjoy writing business plans, putting together new courses, organising tutorial systems, bringing together artists and scientists to run courses, planning retreats and making up transferable skills courses.

Good plans are “bare bones” simple. Complexity and convolution is an anathema. Many think they are good at planning but create fat unwieldly complex “plans”. A good plan has no special cases or exceptions. A good plan is never seen in execution. It is evident by a simple execution. A good plan does not seem to be there at all. There is no one size fits all, a plan should be fit for purpose.

Certain organisational obesity is uncomfortable to me. Poor unwieldy plans can “fry my onions” if I am required to comply. In France there is a problem with the fiscal budget. One could easily save billions by cutting out some of the idiocy in the health care system. My GP had to use a card machine to charge me for my consultation yesterday. A waste of her time. Someone else will reimburse me ~90% of what I paid. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot! What a waste. Fat and unnecessary.

This is one area, plans and planning, where I perhaps am alone. A good simple plan to me has an inherent beauty, a symmetry. I don’t often care if a plan is ever executed. I enjoy the planning. I used to like planning research grants. I was not keen on selling them to the big cheeses. I have followed the Delphic entreaty to know myself. I am not overly keen on socio-political ritual sniffing and arse licking. I do not do the social things necessary for longevity of team. My leadership style, such as it is, is best suited for short term endeavour. I would have been OK at short high stakes commando raids. But I would have needed time off between escapade.

The above slide is a second ray love-wisdom, seventh ray synthesis overview. One needs a second ray purpose executed by seventh ray means.

At the moment I am busy trying to scope out what, if anything, remains for me to do with the rest of this mundane sojourn. At the moment that scope is very limited and “nanna themed”. In that it seems, assuming I survive my upcoming operation, we will wait for the second operation and downsize sometime in 2026. It is not very complicated and that is about as far as the plan goes.

It is pretty bare bones…

Exhausted and Sighing

Not long back from our fun filled and action packed day at the hospital. I am exhausted and sighing. If I had known we were going to have group presentations on diet and physiotherapy exercise I would have been less keen. I’ll speculate that I was not the target demographic.

All of the group were older than me and less apparently crippled.

Given I used to do courses on presentation skills…

It is difficult enough to be talked at in French. It is harder to listen when you are not overly interested. What struck me most was just how passive everyone was. No banter, no piss taking, no humour, no fun. I was  tempted but refrained. When I did the naughty boy speeding course the facilitator worked out that I was game for a laugh and did not mind having the piss taken, we made it more fun for everyone.

One of things we have learned here is if there is a single penny coin of the train tracks of the system it can derail the whole caboodle and that takes years to get going again.

There are a couple of appointments which are due for me, which I might not need. If I cancel these it frees them up for someone else. This would be good citizen thinking. This however could throw a spanner in the workings of the system juggernaut. I’ll take an opinion from the GP tomorrow.

An after lunch monotone in a foreign language ….difficult to keep attentive..

When we went I had two questions in mind.

  1. Do I need to take the pre-op iron tablets given a high ferritin level?
  2. Can we get a prescription for a medical bed for downstairs given a spiral staircase?

The answer to the first was no and the answer to the second was yes. This was as predicted.

I have learned two new things. One about using a second mattress and the other about a rubbish picker.

I have had my high resolution pre-op X-ray and the anaesthetist gave a verbal go ahead for general anaesthetic. From what they said I could be out in 48 hours or less.

From my perspective this did not need to take six hours. But systems are systems.

The take home message I got was that the French are very concerned as to when they are going to get to eat after the operation. It was mentioned several times.  It had not even occurred to me.

For me morphine is a pretty good appetite suppressor. So I doubt I’ll fancy a kebab or lamb vindaloo. I am not fussed about a Madeliene and a coffee.

The other take home for a “hermit” is that it is very tiring being around people for any length of time. Which suggests that limiting my exposure to others remains a good idea. That way I don’t upset people and piss them off. I don’t get tired from picking up their vibes. It sounds like a win-win.

Is It Me Being Self Important?

At the moment the wife is checking though the forest of paperwork for tomorrow’s putative appointment. I asked her opinion, “do you really think it is worth getting it all together and going down to the hospital tomorrow?” It has taken me well over half an hour. There are a lot of test results.

This is the kind of doubt sown by unilateral cancellation without communication. There is in my mind a significant chance we will be back here soon. We will not be having a full fun hospital themed day out. It is just over an hour round trip.

Viewed from one angle I can see that things must conform to how they are supposed to be. In my view it would have been decent to have saved me the trip on Monday. I am not yet fully telepathic.

There is a saying about buses that you wait for a bus for ages and then three come along all at once. I have had two appointments cancelled already this week…am I jinxing it again?

Is it me being self-important or do some people need to brush up on their interpersonal skills, their consideration for others?

The jury is out. It is probably me… it usually is…it is always all my fault.

The bottom line is that it does not really matter to anyone but me if I tip up or not. Nobody has rung to confirm. Is that my job? Someone else could easily take my slot…I am sure there are many people in need.

It is a weird feeling…there is a planning blight now hanging over…this need not have happened…

We shall see what transpires…

Psilocybin Zwitterion or Breaking Bad – the T-shirt problem…

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I was so upset that I cried

All the way to the chip shop

When I came out there was Gordon

Standing at the bus stop

And guess who was with him?

Yeah, Julie

And they were both laughing at me

Oh, she is cruel and heartless

To pack me for Gordon

Just cos he’s better looking than me

Just cos he’s cool and trendy

But I know he’s a moron

Gordon is a moron

Gordon is a moron

Gordon is a moron

Jilted John

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This morning I am wearing a black t-shirt with a rainbow coloured molecular structure of the psilocybin zwitterion. This is what it is mostly like at blood pH. In the past I was partial to a few shrooms. When you go to a pharmacy or hospital it attracts attention. I have had a prostate specific antigen {PSA} test done this morning which will advise as to yet another MRI and/or prostate biopsy. There was a black woman in the queue who looked at the molecule, caught my eye and smiled.

I have a series of t-shirts which can catch eyes in hospitals “trust me I am a doctor” , “Schrödinger’s cat is dead / alive” superposition, psilocybin zwitterion and a Breaking Bad Heisenberg t-shirt. In general I don’t wear the Schrödinger t-shirt to hospitals because people see the “dead” word. There is a bit of a sense of humour failure here in France. In the UK these t-shirts usually spark some kind of comment, a bit of banter.

Since I have been here I have been systematically treated as if I am a bit of an “anglais-moron” according to my interpretation of events. I have yet to find a solution to the problem of forewarning people about my background and what I am capable of. It was rarely a problem in the UK because medics ask your profession there. The Imperial word can have effect.

Problem:

“Is there a way to stop being treated a priori as a moron?”

As I was waiting in the phlebotomy vampire queue I heard the dulcet tones of Jilted John in my mind. It occurred to me that I need to get a white t-shirt  printed in large black {WHAM style} letters. On the front it would say, “My name is not Gordon” on the back it would say “I am not a fucking moron”.

In short I don’t think that there is a way especially since I am now a quasi-crippled semi-obese grey of a certain age.

I did think briefly that I should learn sign language. So that I could start signing instead of talking.

Hey ho…

I am pretty sure that it is unwise to wear a psilocybin zwitterion or Breaking Bad t-shirt when going through customs. Though a part of me wants to do the experiment…the results could be uncertain.

Another Spam SMS?

I guess in modern parlance one could say that I was gaslit about having an appointment yesterday. I was certainly discombobulated when I got there as was the wife when I texted her about it. Perhaps we were having a shared hallucination.

Maybe it was just a spam text purporting to come from the medical centre. Maybe they never sent it. Perhaps it was Putin or Lukashenko.

We have recently received another SMS purporting to be from the same outfit. A reminder for an “appointment”.

I do not know how to take this…nor what to do…