Over a century ago the Tibetan outlined a “plan” for the future schools of meditation.
It is well known that “no plan survives first contact”.
I was involved in a new age group at the turn of the millennium we met for retreats initially in Wales and later in Scotland. I am aware of other experiments in the antipodes and Scandinavia.
September 28th, 1920
Today our second point comes up for consideration, and we shall in the elucidation of it enter into the realms of prophecy. I would here point out to you that the thing which is indicated as existing in the future may not always work out in detail as foreseen. I but seek to lay before you the big general plan in its outline. The working out in the future will depend upon the intuition or high perception of the thinkers of the race and upon the ability of the incarnating jivas to seize upon the opportunities and fulfil their destiny.
We touched yesterday upon the one fundamental school with its four branches. Today I would take up:
2. The National Subdivisions of the One School
At the outset I would point out to you that not every nation in the world will have its occult school. Only as the causal body of the national group has reached a certain rate of vibration will it be possible to found and institute these schools. Only as the educational work of the nation has reached a certain height will it be possible to use the mental equipment of the nation as a stepping stone for further expansion, and to use it as a basis for the occult school. And, curiously enough, only those nations which originally had a training school for the mysteries (with three exceptions) will be again, during the earlier stages, permitted national schools.
Great Britain.
Canada and the United States.
Australia.
And even these exceptions might be considered only one, the case of Australia, for the other two in Atlantean days had their occult foundations when they formed part of the earlier continent. In the turning of the wheel, earth itself reincarnates; places pass into pralaya and emerge into manifestation, holding within them the seeds that will eventuate in similar vibration, and bring into being again similar modes of expression, and similar forms.
It will be found later on, when the Occult Schools are founded, that they will be situated where some of the old magnetism yet lingers, and where in some cases certain old talismans have been kept by the Brotherhood with just this aim in view.
Branches, affiliated with one of the four central divisions of the one occult foundation, will be found in the following countries:
Egypt. This will be one of the later schools founded and will be profoundly occult and an advanced school in direct communication with the inner grades. This will be touched upon later.
The United States will have a preparatory school somewhere in the southern part of the Middle West, and an extensive occult college in California in a place later to be revealed. This school will be one of the first started when the Great Lord begins His earthly career, and during the next five years the seeds of it may be laid if students rightly apprehend the work to be done.
There will be one school for the Latin countries, probably in Italy or Southern France, but much depends on the political and educational work of the next ten years.
Great Britain. At one of the magnetized spots in either Scotland or Wales, a branch for occult training will be begun before so very long, which will lay the foundation and embrace the curriculum for the earlier grades. After it has been in existence for a few years and has proved the effectiveness of its training, and after troubled Ireland has adjusted her internal problems, a school for the more advanced grades, and for definite preparation for the mysteries will be started in Ireland at one of the magnetized spots there to be found. This school will be very definitely a school where preparation for a major initiation may be taken, and will be under the eye of the Bodhisattva, preparing the pupil for initiation upon the second ray. The first school in Egypt will be for those who take initiation on the first ray in the occident. Those who take initiation on the line of the Mahachohan, or on the third ray, will take it at the advanced occult school in Italy. In this way the occident will have its center where active instruction may be given according to the three lines of approach, and which will give preparation in the inner mysteries.
A preparatory occult school will be found, too, in Sweden, for those of the northern and German races who seek the Path, and when it has been extant for some time Russia may then be in a position to house the headquarters for the more advanced school affiliated to the preparatory one in Sweden. In connection with the Egyptian advanced school will be a preparatory one in Greece or in Syria.
You have, therefore, the following schools as planned, and must bear in mind that the schools wherein the preparatory work and earlier grades are found will be first in order of time, and are in process of founding now, or will be founded during the period immediately preceding the Coming of the Great Lord. The founding of others will be definitely the outcome of His work, and that of His Masters, and will depend upon Their decision as to the success of the earlier endeavor.
Preparatory Grades
Advanced School
Greece or Syria leading to
Egypt
Middle West, USA
California, USA
Southern France
Italy
Scotland or Wales
Ireland
Sweden
Russia
New Zealand
Australia
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Excerpted from “Letters on Occult Meditation – Letter IX – Future Schools of Meditation”
I am talking with someone not known to me about living as an expat whilst growing up. I tell them that I was particularly fond of Spider and Tembo in Zambia. I spent quite a bit of time with them whilst my parents were otherwise engaged. They let me sit in on their advice sessions for younger men of a lunchtime. I say that that Tembo in Swahili means elephant and that I am of the elephant dreaming class.
The scene changes to the wooden veranda of a house here in Brittany. It is the veranda of our house. I am standing there. I am approached by several British expat couples They are walking towards me largely unconscious and zombie like. They want me to join them. To ward them off I begin a rite of exorcism, “in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti!”
This has no apparent effect. They get closer and one woman grabs my arm. I shake free. I then will them all to wake up out of their slumber. Slowly one by one they wake up.
In the dream I know that this is a warning not to fall into the customary habits of British expats in France and to stay clear of expat group think.
This dream is top end strange and perhaps re-presents an occult attack carried out on me.
The dream starts with a knowing that in group situations there is always one who lets the evil thoughts and emotions in. That person is usually of the number three and so it was in the past. The weak point for temptation is always the West and the people of that predilection.
It continues to a visual image of a building which I know to be The Royal Institution of Great Britain. Someone has gotten past security and is rampaging around the building. I quickly run about the building to see if it has the old back passages which only someone who lives there would know. It does not. I am with the pool of back office workers and secretaries. We close the door and lock it.
We hear a noise outside. A young blonde American woman who works for the CIA goes to look through the peep hole. The attacker looks back and she tries to stab it with a long pin. It does not work. She runs past me.
The door bursts open and the only partially human attacker comes in. I struggle with it physically. It is much stronger then me. It throws me around and rips a large radiator off the wall. I grab a small climbing ice pick off a desk. It presses me against the wall with the radiator and is starting to crush me. I start to hit its left hand with the ice pick stabbing it and drawing blood. The attacker does not seem to worry. I can see its right hand too and re-adjust to attack it. I can feel my ribs getting crushed.
I start to chant in deep voice getting ever deeper and stronger.
Anál nathrach,
orth’ bháis’s bethad,
do chél dénmha
It is the charm of making.
I chant it over and over. Suddenly the radiator drops and the attacker is transformed into a shiny silver decorative candlestick. It is sparkly and there are dangly decorations. One of the ladies goes over to touch it. I tell her not to because it is evil which is still cooling down.
I am completely aware that I am dreaming and am somewhat surprised that I am chanting the charm of making in a dream.
I am now outside in a fenced park. I can see a large lithe man with silver grey hair and I know that the second wave of the attack is coming. He heads straight for me and we fight. Again, he is way stronger than me. I try to chant.
Anál nathrach,
orth’ bháis’s bethad,
do chél dénmha
This has little or no effect because I am nearly exhausted. I am defeated and he and his colleagues start to round everybody up. We are led off towards a small lake in which there is a pontoon. They have with them a young seer with brown curly hair who gives running commentary on the skills and origin of each of the people. Meanwhile the attacker is wiring himself up to the electricity grid. As I near the lake I start to chant again. Water is my element.
Anál nathrach,
orth’ bháis’s bethad,
do chél dénmha
A hand in the water lifts out what looks to be a paper scroll. I take it and it unfurls into a rectangular shield with a handle. I know this shield will protect me from the bolts which the attacker may send.
We find ourselves on the pontoon. He starts to transform into a boat in which to carry us off.
One of his crew shouts out that the sniper is coming.
I can see that this is true and that he is a nagal’s courier already known to me.
The scout says that they need to take the sniper seriously because he as large .6 calibre armour piercing rounds. The main attacker regains humanoid shape.
He takes me with him in the general direction of the sniper. The sniper is loading his single shot rifle and taking pot shots. As we get very close. He goes to load the rifle and with his other hand lobs me a bullet which I catch.
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Whilst the attacker is focused on the sniper. I throw the bullet like a dart at him and it embeds in his chest. There is a sort of ripple in his fabric of the world. The bullet is stuck like a dart.
I wake up and take a visit to the bathroom. It is 7:17 AM.
I try to revisit the dream.
I am back to the scene where I throw the bullet. I can see that it has penetrated a little further into the attacker.
I can now see the face of the “real” human being causing the attack. The image is very clear and I can summon that to conscience now at will. The image changes to the back of his head. Where the cervical spine meets the cranium there is a fair sized yellow “X”. I know that all I have to do it project some energy here and his head will explode in real life. I send a little energy just to establish the connection but refrain from attack-defence. I will store the information should I need it later.
The scene changes and I am in the garden by the greenhouse. I look towards plug hole corner the Northeast and I can see a brilliant rainbow which is reflected in the waters of the pond.
I wake up and think, “bloody hell that was a whopper”.
As a protective measure I visualize a full manifestation of Vajrapani in wrathful mode and “place” copies of him at various strategic points around the garden. I also reconstruct the reflective dome of indigo-blue around the house. Any magic will be reflected back at the source amplified.
I am somehow going around town spraying foam on people I walk with others, and this is for their protection.
I go into a shop. It is old and wooden there. A Ghurkha dressed in a kilt is there, he is talking with the shopkeeper. I tell him that my dad used to work with the 7th army, specifically he was assigned to the Seventh Ghurkha Regiment.
I note the golden medal he is wearing. On it are a golden Caduceus and an image of a swastika. {the correct non-Nazi way round}. He had not seen the swastika before and is a little upset. I explain that I have a golden caduceus too. It is not with me today as it is being examined by another of his kind who is also looking at my Father’s will.
In real life my physical plane father did indeed work with Ghurkhas in the Malayan Emergency and as I have just found out 7th Gurkha Rifles was there at the same time. He was given a Kukri by the Ghurkhas as a gift of honour. I remember it well. He was Second Lieutenant acting Captain in REME during his national service. Because they believed in fate, he said that they had absolutely no fear and did crazy stuff full of courage. I did not know of the number of Ghurkha regiments until 10 minutes ago.
{This added text written in 2023}
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Trigonal Pyramids –Tricorn Hat – Splitting Dream 27-03-2011
I am returning from a flight and arrive at the airport. There is a sense of extensive travel. There is an image of Rob. He is splitting in two, he has two heads. In my hand I hold the “reflexis” cube. In which I see this. This cube is an “impossible” geometric object made up of two trigonal pyramids to make a cube, the top surface of which is highly reflective.
I am sharing a flat with Rob. A man comes to fix his stereo. He is giving attention to his valve amps. He says to me with a wink that my type of amplifier is better. I comment that I only had to change the valves once. Rob’s amp has an element of show whilst mine is more practical. The valves on my amp are glowing.
Later I am going for a meeting and arrive at Oxford Street. I notice Rob heading to UCL. He does not see me nor recognise me. I am wearing sunglasses. I try to talk with him. All roads lead to UCL.
Then in another world Rob has willed himself into the court. He is in every room at the same time. He is dressed as a jester with a three-pointed tricorn hat. In one room he is multi-coloured in and other room he is black and white to match the black and white tiled floor. It is only since he has been split that he can do this. They are waiting for me.
Outside as I approach there is a cat watching some hedgehogs and rabbits play on the lawn. The cat pounces on a hedgehog and gets a “thorn” in its paw. I help it and get the thorn out; I say to it that it is being silly. It then watches the rabbits and pounces on one. It has a small one in its mouth which it is going to eat. I note this and move off into the court.
The dream the repeats itself several times, especially the bit about the splitting, the “reflexis” cube and the image of the jester like figure in a tricorn hat.
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Triskélion La Maison Dieu Dream- 4-11- 2011
I am flying over landscape after landscape watching towers made of rough-hewn stone being struck by lightning. One after the other they are ruptured and destroyed. They are of all shapes and sizes, some tall and thin others, stout and medieval. The scenes continue to unfold against the backdrop of a dark stormy sky. It seems to go on for ages.
I am aware that this is Liberation Through the Power of Intent in Action. In the dream I call up the card La Maison Dieu to view and I start to write poetry on the subject of it. It is important that people understand La Maison Dieu.
The scene changes and I am now floating like Jason Borne on the sea. I am in a space with no walls. In front of me is a three legged “wheel”, shaped like a Triskelion or three-armed swastika. It is very definitely a “wheel”, and I am looking at the central part. I cannot see any circular part yet there is a strong feeling that it is somehow there.
The parts of the “spokes” closest to the “axle” are red in colour. The parts further away are made of gold. There is no axle, simply a hole where the axle might be. The hole is circular. I am willingly tied to the Triskelion. The wheel starts to rotate in space and I with it. As the rotation speeds up, I start to merge with the Triskelion. I become it and it me. Now I can not be seen only the red and gold Triskelion spinning at a tremendous pace. This starts to move off through Space and Time. I have become the cog in the wheel.
Here is as excerpt from a much longer dream a so-called four pager.
There is a steep incline / cliff. I climb over the fence with my laptop and start to descend the cliff. The cliff starts to give way and I surf with it to the bottom. I am now in a dry riverbed. There is only a small amount of water. I follow the river under the motorway to a place where two rivers join. The is a black forest style house there. I go into the house. There is a fire burning on the hearth.
There is a small wooden chair. It has a solid back with two cut out shapes. I sit on the chair. It is someone else’s chair. I get up and sit on another chair. I put the other person’s chair up on a bed so that I can get a better look at it. As I do so I bang heads with whoever is on the chair. Slowly a cat materializes on the chair, and we start to have a conversation. There are a series of puzzles for me to solve in the house.
Out of the ceiling a construction comprising wooden squares suspended by string materializes forming a tunnel. I am to go up this tunnel. I start but because of the breadth of my shoulders I get temporarily stuck. At this point I can see a seminar where people are looking at a screen and there is an overhead projector projecting transparencies on the wall. People are sat around the table trying to understand the codes in the transparencies. I make my way to the back of the room and ask if the projector is in focus. The guy projecting adjusts the focus in and out. Those watching can’t solve the first riddle. I note that the first clue suddenly resolves into:
” SYNTHESIS”
We move on and a piece of Battenburg cake comprising four squares of yellow and pink appears.
It cuts itself into three equal sections roughly centred at the middle. I know that I am like the cake cut into three equal sections. This is my configuration.
I continue on, cognizant of the theme “needing to solve puzzles.“
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Dream ends.
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18 Flames – 17 Flames – Mossad Dream 31-1-21
Here is the first of last night’s dream which were had either side of a piece of very squally and stormy weather.
The dream is set in a hospital which is similar in feel to the one locally where I was admitted previously. I am sat up in a chair fully clothed and there is high technology medical apparatus around me. In the room are two young men in army fatigues and with weapons. They each have a western style assault rifle and a handgun in a holster. One of them has a circular close-fitting hat on and he has ginger coloured hair and freckles, the other is darker of complexion.
Suddenly out of the hat small blue flames, several inches in length start to burn in a circle round the man’s head. I count them and there are eighteen in total. I know in the dream that this man is my nagal’s courier and he is reflecting for me the eighteen blue flames of my courage.
I turn to the other man, and he has blue flames arranged in a circle too. I count these and they are seventeen in number. In the dream I am surprised because he feels like a southerly stalker and should by rights be a woman. It strikes me as odd. So, I think that he must be my courier to the Scholar representing the other part of my predilection.
I take note of the numbers 18 and 17, the jewels courage and discrimination or discernment.
Into the room comes a male doctor and two female nurses. They are all wearing white coats. They are going to take samples from me. I ask if I can have some local anaesthetic, some lidocaine. They say that it is better that I do not. The man does something and then I am moved away to another room.
The nurses do not get a chance to take their samples.
I am now in a large room with a single large table in it. The nurses are with me. I say that they can take their samples now. I take off my shirt and lie on the large table. They take out their instruments and cut several pieces of flesh from my right side. I have raised my arm for them to do this and do not flinch. They put the samples into sample bottles which then then put into the pockets of their white coats. They leave the room. I sit up on the table and put my shirt back on, there is no blood.
The ginger haired man from before comes in. He is now wearing a security earpiece wire. He says that he is from Mossad and here to protect me. He is now also wearing a Kevlar chest shield and has a helmet in one hand and assault rifle in another. He says that there are seventeen of his colleagues, also from Mossad, around the perimeter to protect me and keep me safe. I have been brought here for my own protection and together with the seventeen colleagues he makes eighteen all of whom are to keep me safe and secure.
Dream ends.
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Nagal’s Courier Dream 2-2-22
This is the first very vivid dream that I have had in a long while and on a morning with a whole heap of 2s.
I am at a small fishing port walking along the harbour wall. In the near distance I see a dark-haired man leaning against a parked Ducati motorbike. He is wearing leathers. I know this man to be A, a dreaming nagal’s courier. I approach him and say hi. He is very sceptical and not-trusting.
I explain that I need to make him aware of some things because there has been a lot of misinformation floating around. I say that when I stopped interacting closely with Théun my dreaming colour changed from indigo-purple to indigo-blue. The shade deepened and became much more vivid. I am certain that it meant that I was a second ray being an Elephant and not a Wolf. I ask him a metaphorical question, “How is your dreaming colour now?”
I explain that there is plenty of “evidence” from dreams and omens that I am a nagal being and not a Man of Action as Théun had suggested. I had been trying this hypothesis on, as is my want. The dreams both mine and the wife’s suggest that I am doubly severed and therefore a three pronged nagal being. Indeed, I had a traumatic experience entirely consistent with the second severing. My secondary predilection is for the East and thus I am a philosophical nagal and radically different in approach to Théun. A second ray dreaming philosophical nagal is an altogether different beast.
I say that in my opinion there was a whole bunch of stupid shit going on back in the day. I say that I have said what I needed to say.
The dream ends.
This dream follows on from an earlier one in which I was verbalising the rule of the four-pronged nagal for a bunch of students.
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Himalaya Foothills Dream 19-06-23.
Before the dream started, I had a very persistent thought form in which I thought “humanity is no longer Darwinian”. This seed thought pointed to the fact that the process of natural selection has been inhibited by modern life. There is no longer exclusively a survival of the fittest. Lifeforms which would have died out survive and the evolution of the human species is stunted. People in the west do not currently have to fight to live, they can eke and survive.
The dream starts with me looking down at my bare feet they are on a concrete floor painted a very deep shade of red and I am wearing loose weave ethnic trousers, of a magenta shade. I can feel the cool floor under my feet. I am indoors and the refuge from the heat is welcome. I am sitting in a wicker chair on a white cushion.
I stand up and leave my residence to go to the hotel / hostel which is downhill from me. I am in a small town on the side of deep ravine in the Himalayan foothills. I have been here for quite some time. I am at home. There are people milling about in the street. They are brown skinned with jet black hair and of slim stature. A couple of the children wave at me, they follow me down the street. There is a sense of accustomed play.
I get to the hotel and go up to the communal dining area. There people are making themselves a meal. It is all very ad hoc. I recognise some of them from London 20 odd years ago. Amongst them is Alexandros {nagal’s courier}. He is tall and has suffered badly from middle age spread. I motion to him and we go out into the small private garden. I ask him why he is here. He says that when I left ages ago, I told him that he should be sensible and keep safe. He has come with the others for me. We go back inside and there is an air of expectancy in the dining room. I leave.
I make my way back up the hill and try to cross a drain into a shaded porch area of an emporium serving tea. I struggle and nearly trip. A young Nepalese man (Gurkha?) grabs my arm and says, “you need to be more careful sahib.” I am a little surprise by his tone. He sits me down. It is clear that I am struggling to move and in some considerable physical pain. He says that we need to build up reserves because we are going to have to walk through the mountain pass at 3400 metres. It is a long way but we think that you can make it. The pass is to the North of the town in the dream. He says that he and his brother will be there with me all the way and that it is their job to guide and protect me. They have been assigned.
I step out onto what passes for the town square chiselled into the mountain side. I can smell the mountain air, rich and pungent from the plants on the mountainside. I can see the Himalaya massif resplendent in the morning light. It looks magnificent and formidable. Around the square a couple of light brown skinny dogs are playing in the shade of a tree.
To the side of the square is a small open stone wall. There are stones on top of short pillars. I go to sit on the wall and the Nepalese man comes and sits next to me. Down in the valley on a road winding up to the town there are several people and loaded pack donkeys. They are making their way; they are European and are assisted by locals. I recognise some of the Europeans. I ask the guide, “why are they coming here?” He says that “of course they have come to see you sahib. There will be others too.”
Dream ends.
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Rule of the Four Pronged nagal – Numerology Dream 17-08-23
Just because there was not enough weirdness already here is this morning’s dream.
The dream opens with a quintessential English village fete set in a green and sloping park. The park has trees around the circumference and is lushly grassed. There are stalls selling produce, a Tombola stand, a Pimm’s tent, bric-a-brac and an inflatable play area for the children. There is a small crowd of English people at the event. The atmosphere is summer and nice. Everyone is relaxed and there is a nice hubbub.
At the corner of one stand, I notice a talk young man with dark hair who resembles A whom I know to be a nagal’s courier. I go over to him to say hello. I say that I need to tell him about the rule of the four pronged nagal. He already knows that he is a nagal’s courier. He says that only nagals should narrate the rule. He doubts that I am nagal. His jewel is 20, honour.
I walk to the side of the fete near the trees. I hold his attention with my eyes. I run down the slope and take off flying down the slope and then back up to close to hum. He says, “that was stupid, everyone could see you!” I motion to the crowd they are going about their business as usual. I say that the display was only for him and his eyes. He says, “OK. I’ll buy it you are nagal.”
We head off into a European piazza, Italianate in character. There is much buzz. We head off into a taverna which is busy. There sat on a table is a middle aged balding ginger man. He is entertaining his table with stories. He does not look entirely well. I say to the nagal’s courier that he is a Man of Action. He replies that I should go and tell him. I say that it must be action. I take the courier down into the basement of the taverna and find the electricity distribution box. There are many fuses and interrupters. I flip the switches. The tavern and the basement are plunged into darkness. There is unease upstairs. I hear the Man of Action strike his Zippo lighter. He says, “don’t worry it was probably a fuse. I will go and investigate.” He comes down in the basement and sees us. He turns the electricity back on. We all leave the taverna together. His jewel is 6, choosing between the old and the new.
Now it is nighttime and we go into a basement nightclub. It is dark and smoky. It has seen better days and is seedy. On the stage is a cabaret. We sit at a table and order some drinks. On the table next to us an older man is being entertained by a hostess who is pouring him drinks and flattering him. She is a tiny black woman with an amazing architectural hairdo. She is wearing a skimpy red dress which reveals her athletic shoulders. From the way she moves to the bar she is lithe and a dancer. She is sat very close to me. I suggest to her without words that she must come with us. She looks over. We get up and leave the club, she follows. She says that she must get some things. So, we follow her into a catacomb where she lives. We go into a gothic chamber and she fills a holdall with clothes. I say to her that she is “bat-shit crazy” because there are bats flying about. She yes, literally. Her jewel is 5 need for freedom and change. She is as Westerly stalker.
We are now above ground in daylight. We go to a suburb near the sea, where there are three storied wooden houses of a classical Boston marine style. The place is ultra-tidy and serene. I select one house and go up the stairs. I pull the bell rope and a man in navy-blue shorts and a white polo answers the door. His short hair is immaculately cut and the creases in his polo are razor sharp. One the back of his polo is the number 2. He says, “hi we have been expecting you. Do come in.” He ushers us into a bright well lit kitchen with a blue and white nautical theme.
“I’ll just call my brother, my twin, we always do everything as a pair!”
His brother comes down and joins us in the kitchen. They are identically dressed. They stand with their backs to a white porcelain sink and ask us in unison, what would we like for breakfast. Their jewel is 2. They are couriers to the female East. I note in the dream that a pair of twos is a double whammy omen. Two is the need for humility and understanding or a hint of destiny. Given the context I favour the latter.
The flow of the dream goes South-North-West-East which I understand to be the flow of power, which is in the act of manifesting, that is one the verge of coming into manifestation. It is on the cusp of the dream.
Dream ends.
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Berne – nagal’s Insignia Dream – 27-04-24
I slept until 5:22 AM. This dream came upon going back to sleep.
I find myself in a seminar room sat in a partial circle of chairs without tables. Someone is giving a spectroscopy seminar on the screen. It is about some work being done at a German university. When the seminar is over, I go over to Sam and comment that it was a very nice piece of work to which he concurs. I know I am in Berne, Switzerland.
There is a short pause and the seminar reconvenes. I am wearing a blue-grey jacket much like the one I used to have. To this I pin my nagal’s insignia. I take it out of my pocket and pin it to my right lapel.
It is getting late. I have nowhere to stay. But I am pretty sure than I can get a hotel room on my credit card. I leave the seminar room and walk off into the Berne night.
I wake up noting that it is very unusual to have a dream with the insignia in. And wonder if it means that I need to be more proximal to one of the planetary centres, namely Geneva. I note that I have also spent time in London, Tokyo and fleetingly New York. I decide to try to return to the dream. Geneva is the francophone centre.
I am now in some shared house with a “Rayburn” style of heater. The pipes are all transparent made of glass. We are changing the thermostat setting and this causes the water levels in the pipes to change. I comment that it is a good idea to have these pipes transparent because one can see what is going on.
I then move into an office building. I meet the secretary which Sam had. I think about asking her if she likes dreams. I change my mind and say to her that I have something to tell her and Sam in private, namely the dream.
I move into an office full of Ph.D. students. I ask them where the post doc office is. They point me. I go in and it is full of people a few of whom are known to me. I ask where I am supposed to sit. Alan F sheepishly points me to a chair/desk in the corner. I sit down.
I say that because of the number of post docs Sam must be doing well.
One of the women, a senior post doc, asks in an American accent, “what the fuck are you doing here?”
To which I reply that I am slightly surprised too.
She says that everyone gossiped and ridiculed me after I left last time. I reply that I know because Wolfgang told me and that he was not happy with the behaviours of people towards me because I had been nice to him.
Sat around the table each of us have a grey carton.
“Today we are having oysters, huitres”, says one of the post docs.
“Not for me thanks I don’t like them”, I reply.
“Why?”
“They feel like catarrh from a bad head cold, a viral infection.”
“Can we get you anything else?”
“Just a glass of water please.”
“Won’t you feel left out?”
“No. Since the last time I was here I have done extensive meditation and am quite Zen abut most things.”
In front of me is a lab book and a fountain pen.
The pen is their “gift” to me.
I go to take the lid off the pen and try to use it. It is booby trapped and I get ink all over my hand and my mouth. I dip a tissue in the water and wash my hands with it.
“It looks like I will need to use a pencil instead of a fountain pen to write.”
There is a titter in the office.
I turn to use a computer and reflected on the screen I can see them reloading the pen.
I tell them that I am seeing them do this and that I am not a fool. I walk over to the main culprit. I place my left thumb firmly into the nerve point between his right thumb and forefinger and squeeze his hand. He drops the pen and grimaces in pain.
I explain that I am now 100kg because I have been working a garden.
They joke that British gardens are small.
I say that I have been living in France with a garden of more than an acre.
I say, « je peux parler Français ».
I do this is a very poor accent.
I go back to my accommodation. I note that I still have not written my dream and that this mocking “welcome” is a generic thing.
The next morning, I put on my grey camouflage trousers and vest. I attach the insignia to a piece of smooth string and pop it around my neck. It rests just under the top on the singlet in my chest hair.
I go into town towards the office. The woman and two other postdocs are at a cross roads.
We exchange, “morning”.
They are about to mock me for dressing as a soldier. I lift the insignia out of my vest to show them, knowing that in so doing I am making a powerful occult statement which they do not understand.
This morning’s dream had within it a knowing that it is related to the Human Puzzle dream.
The dream starts of with me walking around and exploring a suburb of Birmingham. In the dream I am aware that it is the centre, the middle of the country and I take that metaphorically as the crux. I explore a few shopping parades and come upon a country park. I nip through a hole in the hedge onto an earthen path. The park is being renovated and there is machinery in one corner. Even though the path is muddy I do not gather mud on my shoes. The park is empty and well supplied with benches. I note that it is an oasis in the hustle bustle. I leave the park and am back on the streets I have a cigarette and note that there are only two Marlboro Lights left {old style packaging}. I will need some more for the night.
I am now indoors and have a large loud and vocal argument with my ex-wife. She is being intransigent adamant and vociferous. She is trying to justify all sorts of things. She is inaccurate and misguided. She is lying. My attempts to reason with her are completely unsuccessful. She is trying to manipulate me but without success. I see that I am wasting my time.
I turn to the audience observing this and say that Théun warned me that her lies and manipulations would hinder me for 13 years or more. I say that he was right in his predictions.
I am now inside with my aunt and ask her where the nearest Tabacco shop is. She says it is just around the corner. It is the only part near here which I did not explore earlier. She asks me to get her 100 Lambert & Butler 100s and that she will buy my two packs of Marlboro. She hands me her hand bag and says that I should take it. I have no intention of doing this. I take some money out of her purse. To buy her cigarettes not mine.
I leave and find an off licence shop. There I purchase the cigarettes and two cans of Stella Artois. The shopkeeper is friendly and we chat briefly.
The scene changes and I am in some kind of seminar room with a black board on an easel. Sat in front of me is a young Chinese man in a pin striped suit, he has a pudding bowl haircut and thick black rimmed spectacles. He is short sighted and I know him to have genius IQ. I am trying to explain to him the three triangles and the square of the tenfold Kabbalistic manifestation. I say to him that I am not good at drawing triangles. He concurs.
Every time I finish one part of the explanation he interjects and wants to draw complex integral mathematical formulations. Which he does in red marker pen upon a white board. He badly wants to win the argument.
I say to him that he is not listening and that his desire to argue inhibits his cognitive capability to assimilate. He disagrees. I say that he is being overly complicated.
I say to him that he so badly wants to be right and to win that he cannot understand because he is not motivated to do this. He disagrees.
I ask if he wants to win.
Yes.
I say to him that I do not give a shit about winning, nor being right. That is petty. If he does not want to learn I will not force him nor will I try over and over.
The scene changes and we are at a beach on a grassy verge. I am with a man and we are going to wash people to clean them up. To that end I have a huge 50 litre green panier of fresh spring water. In order to be ready, we have to go down some stairs to the beach where people will come to be cleansed. I navigate the large hewn steps with difficulty because of my hips. I take care not to spill a single drop of the spring water. My companion follows suit. We set ourselves up under a wide beach parasol.
The scene changes and we are on a wide concrete path inside a massive underground structure. The path heads uphill to a stone staircase leading onto a further path. The paths lead out of the cavern towards daylight. I can see a trail of what looks to be dog shit. With one lump every 30 cm or so. I follow it up the stairs. Where the colour of the shit is now grey and clay like. It leads to a massive turd which is the start point of the shit trail. The trial runs for 20 meters or so on each level and the volume of shit is truly massive with fist sized turds.
My companion catches up and we retrace the shit back down to the lower level. We are both amazed that anything could leave that much shit and live. There is a whole lot of shit which has not been cleared up. Masses of shit.
This morning’s dream was the most vividly coloured one I have had in many years.
I am in a car with my wife. We are driving down a narrow street and I am looking for an entrance in the walls. I will know it when I see it. There is an opening, and the walls are pointed with immaculately cut stone blocks. I know this is the place. The wife is hesitant in case it is private property. I say that I have seen this place a number of times in the dreaming. I turn right into the opening. The car we are driving is our right-hand drive Peugeot 207. As we enter the properties the walls are of a vibrant and almost radiant royal blue. The colour is very intense. We drive several metres down this tunnel.
The ground has dark red granite-based gravel. The tunnel heads off ahead of us. There is a turning to the right also with the intense blue walls. I take this turning and it leads to an immaculate courtyard in front of a grand French town house. There is a short staircase leading to the front door. I take this staircase. The door opens before me and a corridor leads me up into a large wooden floored ornate ballroom. It is a bit chavvy like Versailles.
The ball room is twenty to thirty metres long. At the far end of the room on a heavily decorated antique table is a huge ornate bird cage. It is about 1.5 metres tall and 1 metre in diameter. Inside the cage is a huge owl. The owl is almost as big as the cage. It stares right at me and then fluffs up all its feathers around its head to make a big circle. It then relaxes them and repeats this several times. The owl and I are staring at each other and there is a sense of being at-one with this owl. I sense that it is caught in its gilded cage. But the owl knows that it can at any time de-materialise the cage. This it does and the cage vanishes. The owl then stands on the table and fluffs up its feathers again whilst maintaining eye-contact.
I feel an enormous sense of camaraderie with the owl.
« La Kabbale (de l’hébreu קבלה Qabbala « réception », forme anglicisée écrite plutôt Cabbale ou Qabale en français) est une tradition ésotérique du judaïsme, traditionnellement présentée comme la « Loi orale et secrète » donnée par YHWH à Moïse sur le mont Sinaï, en même temps que la « Loi écrite et publique » (la Torah). Elle trouve sa source dans les courants mystiques du judaïsme synagogal antique. »
Here is this morning’s dream. I should preface this with the statement that I have studied kabbalah from various published texts but with a background of someone skilled in the art of molecular group theory, symmetry, an open mind, and institutional understanding. I will add a few footnotes at the end. In no way do I see this, kabbalah, as satanic, nor is it some groovy thing a pop star might get a tattoo of.
The dream starts in the Department of Chemistry of Imperial College, South Kensington. I am in the fourth floor secretarial offices with Alan B. He is as I remember him but aged slightly and he is wearing a yarmulke on his head. This is surprising to me for although I knew his background, I never saw him thus attired.
He is standing by the printer waiting for a document to arrive. I greet him and he comments that the print queue must be long. Slowly out of the printer a sheet of A3 paper comes out and on it there is a kabbalistic otz chiim or eitz chaim. I glance at it and point out the common mistake which is deliberate in much of the published “work”. He says that he did not know that I knew about kabbalah.
I say that I have looked into it a little and see it as a model for the manifestation of the universe and how an idea or thought form comes into being, from before a germ of an idea.
I draw his attention to ein, ein soph and ein soph aur and explain that this is “deity” unmanifest often call God transcendent and this is a guess for what lies beyond the veil. An attempt of the seers of old to verbalise what they could not see. I point at the top trinity above da’ath and say that this is God imminent or that first part of deity which is, present participle, manifesting, in manifestation.
I say that the veil represents that which is in the very initial act of manifesting, that which is neither unmanifest or manifest. It represents the cusp of beingness, the as yet non nascent dream of existence.
He looks taken aback and says that he thought that kabbalah was pretty much a Jewish thing. I explain that yes that is where it was first started and that it goes way back. He points to da’ath on the tree.
I explain to him that herein lies the crux, because beyond {above} this we are dealing with models of deity which must be by way of conjecture. Whilst human I believe it difficult to conceptualise such states of awareness. In many ways da’ath encapsulates the mystery of beingness in that one cannot see beyond form whilst in form. The model of a triangle is reflected here with the apex of the triangle pointing up instead of down. Da’ath is a kind of lower reflection of the veil of existence.
Alan looks a little freaked.
The dream ends….
* Whilst working in pastoral care a student who had been on holiday at a rabbinical kabbalistic kibbutz had a big discussion on kabbalah with me and saw fit to give me a book on the subject. She was astounded that I could discuss such matters with her.
*There is a Toltec interpretation of “Jacob’s ladder” the lightning strike of manifestation too.
Here is this morning’s dream. The wife says that I was kicking about whilst having it.
The dream starts with me walking down from Mount Sinai past Saint Catherine’s monastery I am to meet someone there. I have just watched {again} the dawn on top of Mount Sinai. As I near the walls of the monastery I am taken suddenly to The clockmaker. I travel instantaneously to his workshop.
In front of me is small man with wispy grey hair who is wearing an Eastern European black cap. He has wire rimmed glasses with circular lens holders perched on his nose. He is wearing a light tan leather apron and a white collarless shirt. He shows me the clock. In front of him is an exquisite mechanical clock mechanism about one metre in diameter. There are fly wheels and rotor arms all in motion. It is truly something. He says to me in a Swiss-German accent that I should watch carefully.
The clock starts to move and transform. It self-organises via a different shape to a nearby part of the workshop. It stutters a bit then continues to mark time. It struggles to regain equilibrium.
The clockmaker says that the clock shows the current lack of harmony in the world. It is struggling to find the simple harmonic motion needed for it to count time. He says that world is dangerously out of balance. He says that he has never seen it this bad.
I am taken swiftly back to the foot of Mount Sinai. At the edge of the car park are two large prayer carpets. On each of them in a few rows about a dozen long are Muslim pilgrims. They are in full stretched out prayer position. One mat has men and the other has women with hijab. They are all dressed completely in white. I understand that they have done purification washing. The white is very marked. They are about to make a pilgrimage to the summit of Mount Sinai. I had shared the night there with another group.
I meet a tall dark haired English man in the car park. He is wearing khaki shorts and an army jacket. He is stood by a fancy black 4×4 vehicle. He greets me and gesticulates to the people in prayer. I say to him that in 2003 I spent the night of my birthday prior to dawn on top of Mount Sinai as I have just done. That time whilst there were a few Muslims the peak was full of Japanese tourists. I say that something profound happened to me back then which I understood to be an initiation. I came down a changed man. The peak this time had many followers of Islam and they were all atop in prayer. I say that the last time I was at Saint Catherine’s I discussed the coming of the Imam Mahdi with my Egyptian guide. I managed to get him to go against guidelines which said not to talk about Islam with the punters.
–
Dawn 31st August 2003.
–
He opens the boot of the car and shows me some tourist tatt he has bought. There is a small ornamental sword with red hieroglyph like writing on it he is keen to have my opinion. I look at the sword and say to him that it is a cheap fake. This confirms his opinion.
His wife and two sons arrive and he drives us all across the Sinai Peninsula to the Israel border. As we approach the border, we can see the sign in Hebrew and English saying Israel. There are several small calibre bullet marks in the sign. The border guard stops the car and ushers us into the border post to check our paperwork. He sees my passport and official Science Museum pass.
I go to a computer terminal in the post to check in. The children go to a drinks vending machine. The dark haired man come over to me. We are parting here. I am going back to London. He has a slim notebook computer. He asks me to take this back to the Science Museum, where I am curator, for examination. I explain to him that because I do not know what he has been up to on his computer that would be very, too, risky for me especially given the current world climate.
Dream ends.
*The clock maker aspect of this is reminiscent of Kālacakra tantra, the wheel of time. Perhaps the west “imagines” or “pictures” the same thing but with a different visual vocabulary.
I had this dream between 7:07 and 7:30 this morning. I checked the clock on the way back from the loo and went back to bed. I was woken by the central heating clicking on at 7:30 AM.
The dream starts in the living room of a house in France. I am there with the wife. I can see the cat ferreting around on the top shelf of a bookcase. It is trying to get into a black plastic container. I get a small step on stool and reach the black plastic container taking it off the shelf. The cat is very curious and tries to get into the box and I have to shoo it away.
I take the container over to the window. There is no lid. In it I can see a small ~20cm high homuncule {homunculus}. It is curled up and seems to be dead. It looks a bit like an alien “grey”. I prod it gently with a pencil and it does not move.
–
–
{The dream is specific homuncule in French.}
I move away from the window. The cat nearly trips me up and I spill the contents of the container onto the floor. The homuncule lands and the carpet is covered with a shiny silver-grey powder from him which glistens iridescent. The homuncule stands up and walks off to the kitchen. As it moves small mouse like turds fall from off its back. It has been asleep for a very long time. I know that he is very thirsty and is going to get some water. The cat watches but seems too startled to do anything.
I turn around and there are a few, around half a dozen, children standing behind me. They are boys and girls aged around 7 or 8. They are dressed like children in a 1950s US TV programme. The have freckles and are clean and tidy.
I ask them, “quelle langue parles-tu?”
One of the girls say, “um, English, we are from Kivingden in Kent. We have been here a long time.”
I follow the path of the homuncule towards the kitchen. I notice a new white painted metal door has appeared. The door is reminiscent of a naval door designed to prevent water ingress. It has a white metal lever clamped shut which I lift to open the door. I open it and lock the door fully open with a metal rod.
It is a kind of portal.
I can see an industrial metallic staircase spiralling down. It is painted white. The bunker below is very well lit and also painted white. I know it to be extensive and to be a nuclear shelter. I know it is well provisioned and that the homuncule has made it appear and that it is from whence the children came.
I call the wife to come and inspect.
Dream ends.
—————
Homuncule : Homme de taille réduite auquel les sorciers ou les alchimistes prétendaient pouvoir donner la vie.
At 06:45 I had a bathroom break and went to bed unsure if I would get back to sleep. I thought to myself lie here and see what dreams might come.
I drift off and from space I see a planet isolated in space. It is blue and green and white. I know that this planet is the earth. Around it I can see a bright white disc of light, a corona. This layer, atmosphere of light, gradually thickens until it is around 10% of the planetary diameter. The layer implodes and then explodes into a four pointed star of white light. The earth cannot be seen only the light. The points of the star are sharp and about five planetary diameters long at maximum length. They are at the four cardinal directions, emanating from the North and South poles with an East-West perpendicular. After reaching maximum extension they disappear leaving the planet isolated in space without its white light corona.
I know in the dream that I must meditate on this and re-run the vision of the formation of the four pointed star. The dream coincides with sunrise here in France. I have the sensation that something dramatic has happened for the planet. I consciously rebuild the image several times over.
The image fades.
The next dream starts on a large ferry boat. I am sat in the library of the boat. The boat has been purchased for educational purchases but few of the people are using it thus. They are in the bar and the games room. The captain announces that he encourages people to explore the boat and to see what other facilities there are. Some people come to sit at the same table as me. They try to take a couple of my books. I say that I have already loaned them from the librarian. I show them the front of the books where there is a slip of paper with loans on. The loan slips have my name handwritten in blue-black ink and a date stamp which is current for me. The books are texts of physics and chemistry together with ancient occult treatises. These latter manuscripts are very valuable and rare. I have been studying them a long time. The people are surprised at the contrast. I explain that it is natural to me.
The dream shifts to a country estate. We are letting a landowner onto the property. She is wearing a waxed “home counties” style shooting jacket and has a shotgun split in the crook of her left arm. She warns that they have let the dogs off the leash. There are two yappy black dogs and a border collie. I give the collie my fist and he holds it in his mouth we are playing a pulling game of sorts. The woman remarks that I now have a friend and that she, the collie, is rarely like that with any human outside their immediate family.
We carry on around the property and to the place where it adjoins the sea. The woman and the daughter say that this cove is their favourite bit. I point South. I say that I prefer the view of the massif across the strait. There above the azure blue sea I can see a fortress in the bright Mediterranean sun. We are making our way along a cliff side path. I don’t like having people behind me on the path and I come to a tricky bit on the path. I say that I am going to have to sit down because I am getting vertigo. I am stuck. I say that they can take the higher path on the cliff face and I will meet them on the other side.
I sit down. I then edge along the path and around the corner of a rock. Hewn into the cliff face is kind of terrace. On that terrace is a small single slat wooden bench. There is a wooden door painted in a dark pastel blue. I can see the grains of the wood and the rushes on the seat put there for comfort. The door is of antiquity. There is a metal ring about the size of my fist at waist height to right hand side of the door. I shout out, “look there is a hidden door!”
–
–
A voice answers in Arabic that this is the door of El Shab Abdul bin Shamir or something like that. I cannot recall the exact name but it sounds like this and ends in bin —mir. The woman and two young people, men, are coming in the opposite direction along the path. She is speaking Arabic saying that this is the place he {Abdul} came to meditate and it opens into his garden. In the dream I can understand Arabic because of my crusader-priest life.
They round the corner and sit with me on the terrace. There is a suitable rock of a metre or so on the terrace. As she sits her long hair in corn row dreadlocks falls around her shoulders and reaches to the ground. One of her companions plays with her hair and says that she is Rasta. I smile because I knew some Rastafarians. She is half caste and resembles a young Whoopi Goldberg. She has dazzling blue eyes and I know her to be a seeress of some considerable prowess.
She switches to English and we discuss that from time to time she sees the long dead owner of the garden. I say, “his spirit?” “Yes” she replies. “He is a most unusual being.” “I too come here for solace from time to time.”
Unlike for the others there is no need for she and I to open the physical door. We are suddenly on the other side in a small yet exquisite ornamental garden reminiscent of the Alhambra with water fountains and immaculate planting. We are strolling along and I have the profound sense of having met this woman before. The familiarity if strong.
–
–
–
The scene changes and I am outside a European castle gate. The country is verdant. We are stood by a weir which controls the flow of water through the castle and to the castle fishponds. These ponds are used to provision the castle folk. Every spring they open the sluices for a while to allow the fish from the river into the ponds and to refresh the water. It is the time of the salmon run. People are dressed mediaeval style. There is much excitement because there is plenty to eat after a harsh and boring winter menu. The keeper of the sluice ceremonially starts to open them. The flow is slow at first. Small fish are swimming up the weir. To one side I notice a large silver male salmon leaping up the weir. It has transformed into its breeding shape. I shout. Everyone looks. There is much joy because the annual salmon run has begun.
I wake up and feel slightly overwhelmed. It is 8:15 AM. What is only a short time in earth time has seemed like an eternity in dream time.
* I have “memories” of verdant Europe, France and a more scorched Mediteranean. The sense of time is around 800 years ago, plus or minus.
Dreamyoga 