Category: #Reincarnation

Candle Vigil – Koyaanisqatsi – Jaguar Shaman – Strange Group Dream 25-07-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ 1 Comment

Here is last night’s dream, strangely out of context with our current life and way of living.

The dream starts in South America on the mainland, perhaps Western Caribbean, on the connective peninsula. I am walking along a path cleared into the jungle at dusk / early night. I come upon a sunken built structure which has downward going stepped stone seating, a bit like a Greek theatre

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The construction is totally circular and the “stage” area is of the same grey stone at the rest of the amphitheatre. The construction is ancient South American, Maya or Aztec or some such. The radius is about 50 metres and there are at least half a dozen seating rows. It seems very familiar to me. On each step / seat is spaced a circle of lit candles in tumbler size glasses of various shapes and colours. There are hundreds of them. On the stage there are concentric circles of similar candles around a central circle empty void. The candles flicker lightly in the wind. I know this place to be a reliquary of living souls, each candle a spark of life. They have gathered to meditate on the state of the world. Against the darkened backdrop of the surrounding noisy night time jungle, here is a sanctuary.

The scene changes and I start to see scenes like from the film Koyaanisqatsi where rushing images of “normal” hectic life with its chaos and destruction are playing out on a “screen” in the mind’s eye. I hear chanting of Koyaanisqatsi over and over in a deep low voice as per the film. I know beyond any doubt that the world is badly out of balance, out of whack and out of kilter. The madness of the human “dream” is in full flow, justified to itself and thoroughly destructive. Unaware and largely uncaring. Caught up in a ceaseless rhythm of hectic.

The scene changes and I am now in a large open native kayak. There are two boats. We are paddling along the shore past jungle and two large settlements. It could be the sea or it could be a wide part of the Amazon River. We are around twenty metres from the “beach” and the jungle behind. I know we are being tracked and I catch sight of a magnificent jaguar easily keeping pace with our boats, jogging slowly in the forest. She is watching and observing. I can feel her muscles and see through her eyes. She is a totem of THE jaguar shaman, a spirit of the jungle, free and untrammelled. I see back through time to a ritual in a clearing of the jungle where I am enacting the convergence of the jaguar shaman. I have a jaguar pelt on my shoulders. As I enact I become and am the jaguar.

The scene changes to an urban setting; there are a group of people seeking to join or affirm their membership in a wider group. People have been accepted but must now make their public telephone call with their “mentor”. The sense of people wanting to be a part of is strong. I see one black man roughly my age make his call which we can all hear. In that the mentor slowly gets him to submit verbally. I think that this is coercive. Others make their call to belong to the “wonderful” organisation. The do decamps to a large pub near Hampstead Heath. People are queuing out of the door to buy their drinks. The black man is there and his mentor is going to buy him a drink, in a wait your turn fashion. I walk straight up to the bar and buy two pints of beer from one of the bar staff who know me well. I usher to the black man to join me in the beer garden. He follows and I explain that this has been cult like behaviour and he had better get the out sharpish.

The scene changes and the images of and sounds of Koyaanisqatsi close out the dream in a repetitive sequence.

The dream ends.

Occam’s Razor and Past Life Recall

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Occam’s razor

In philosophy, Occam’s razor (also spelled Ockham’s razor or Ocham’s razor; Latin: novacula Occami) is the problem-solving principle that recommends searching for explanations constructed with the smallest possible set of elements. It is also known as the principle of parsimony or the law of parsimony (Latin: lex parsimoniae). Attributed to William of Ockham, a 14th-century English philosopher and theologian, it is frequently cited as Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem, which translates as “Entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity”, although Occam never used these exact words. Popularly, the principle is sometimes paraphrased as “of two competing theories, the simpler explanation of an entity is to be preferred.”

This philosophical razor advocates that when presented with competing hypotheses about the same prediction and both hypotheses have equal explanatory power, one should prefer the hypothesis that requires the fewest assumptions, and that this is not meant to be a way of choosing between hypotheses that make different predictions. Similarly, in science, Occam’s razor is used as an abductive heuristic in the development of theoretical models rather than as a rigorous arbiter between candidate models.

From Wikipedia

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Last night we watched a 1997 film called “Contact” with Jodie Foster as the main protagonist among a {now} star studded cast. The special effects were naïve by todays’ standards. The film misused the notion of Occam’s Razor; the simplest explanation was that she did indeed travel to a civilisation near Vega. The film argued that this was too convoluted and did not happen whereas the counter explanation of cunning hoax which was way more convoluted and complicated was acceptable and true to the government. A simple inconvenient truth of interstellar travel was rejected in preference for a hyper-complicated adherence to what normal accepted, science and wisdom insisted.

Rules in science are kept, often way past their sell by date, exceptions and first, second and third order corrections terms are added, one must flog the life out of a dead horse rule. “Science” is so conservative that in worshipping at the temple it does not have to get called up to serve in the IDF. Elvis however did national service.

In the blog under the heading “Reincarnation Themed” in the column to the right are collected a number of dreams which are “Ronseal” dreams. A possible explanation is that elements of past life recall are implicated.

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It might be possible to come up with some convoluted psychological hypothesis as to why I had these dreams, maybe invoke some DSM-5-TR defined criteria for some disorder or syndrome. It could be an act of creative writing on my part. I could have smoked way too many spliffs as a young man or simply be a tin-foil hat wearing rainbow unicorn jockey. I could be whacko the nut-job, from Loony-Ville Alabama.

The simplest explanation is that they contain elements of past life recall. Occam’s razor therefore suggests that this is more likely.

Unfortunately past life recall is not deemed possible by some.

If history teaches us anything it is that things deemed impossible, and adamantly so, can and do prove feasible. Once it was deemed mad to suggest Cholera was a water born disease. History suggests that the prevailing THEY are often wrong yet vehement and assertive. They refuse to accept that they could be in error. Power must not be yielded to plebs and upstarts.

The self-diagnosis by THEY of their own omniscience is rarely a sound diagnosis.

Anaesthesia – Antwerp Dream 15-07-2025

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This afternoon I had a colonoscopy under general anaesthetic. In recovery I told the woman in charge that this was the first dream I have had and recalled under anaesthetic.

The dream is set in Antwerp something like two hundred years ago. I am as “pony-tail” man though now of a middle age. I am with a young man who is wearing a knitted sweater / jersey he has very light ginger curly hair and a sunny disposition. He is one of my relatives, a nephew perhaps, a younger generation. We are waiting on his friend who has a horse-donkey driven cart. It is very rudimentary. When he arrives, we all set of for the port.

A ship, galleon like in appearance, has just docked from its voyages down the West coast of Africa. On board someone has something for me by way of jewels in a pouch. At the port there is chaos as sailors get off and cargo is unloaded. There are hawkers and prostitutes. We park the cart. My “nephew” is ultra-excited as he knows the man onboard who works with me. My friend descends the gang plank he looks emaciated and very dirty. He sees us. My “nephew” runs towards him and hugs him. I get closer. It is summer so I have only my white blouson shirt on the top half. He has a coat because he now feels the cold of the North. We embrace and I can smell the stench of him. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a velvet like purse drawn together with a red ribbon. In it I know are jewels, rubies and emeralds. He knows that I will knows who will buy these. He quickly puts the purse back into his jacket so that it is not seen.

I awake as I am being wheeled out of theatre into recovery and am surprised at the contrast to the Antwerp port and cool high technology hospital. The air is odourless. I do a double take.

The Old Guard and Toltecs – Speculations

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The second instalment of the Old Guard series has recently hit Netflix. It has a shared plotline of sorts with the Highlander movies of ere. In this Old Guard dramatization physical plane immortals exist adjoint humanity and interact to either good or bad effect depending on mood and predilection. In Highlander in the end there can be only one in the battle between good and evil. In the Old Guard series “Andy” the main protagonist has fought to help, aid and otherwise nudge humanity in a “better” direction. Instead of reincarnating she has one contiguous and very long life in which she preserves her super model looks despite getting slashed and shot. A magical and miraculous healing occurs. She loses her regeneration powers and then regains them.

In each the burden of endless longevity / immortality is touched upon. They do not dwell overmuch on the boredom aspect rather the action and power angle. The omnipotence may appeal to the burdened and downtrodden. It may titillate the sociopath and the narcissist.

For dramatic impact pivotal points in global {human} history are referenced. An allied them is to be found in the “Assassins Creed” franchise though in this case reincarnation is invoked and a DNA bloodline is the bearer and propagator of ongoing conflicts.

It has been suggested to me that the so-called Toltecs were incarnated around pivotal times and played a role behind the scenes in the evolution of human and planetary history. Given that the technique of erasing personal history is part and parcel of the training, it is not surprising that little historical refence can be found. In the Old Guard Andy tries to avoid publicity. However in this day and age and thanks to internet monitoring and various intelligence services it is impossible to leave no trace. The times have changed.

In the Toltec tradition there is such a thing as a nagal being. The word Nagual in Spanish American is similar. The word Naga in the Indian tradition does not differ in root. In the hagiography of Buddhism Siddartha is protected by king cobra, a naga-raja, from the rain. These nagas live in the place or world of the nagas, naga-loka. Wisdom can be elicited from nagas and naga-loka. Serpents are the dreaming symbol for wisdom.

This suggests via speculation and extrapolation that a nagal being was a contemporary and perhaps companion of Shakyamuni Buddha.

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“There is unanimous agreement that Nāgārjuna (ca 150–250 CE) is the most important Buddhist philosopher after the historical Buddha himself and one of the most original and influential thinkers in the history of Indian philosophy. His philosophy of the “middle way” (madhyamaka) based around the central notion of “emptiness” (śūnyatā) influenced the Indian philosophical debate for a thousand years after his death; with the spread of Buddhism to Tibet, China, Japan and other Asian countries the writings of Nāgārjuna became an indispensable point of reference for their own philosophical inquiries. A specific reading of Nāgārjuna’s thought, called Prāsaṅgika-Madhyamaka, became the official philosophical position of Tibetan Buddhism which regards it as the pinnacle of philosophical sophistication up to the present day.”

Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Nāgārjuna (नागार्जुन). – Name of an ancient Buddhist teacher of the rank of बोधिसत्त्व (bodhisattva).

Wisdom Library

The name also appears in the wider Hindu sources predating Shakyamuni Buddha

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Typically a three pronged nagal is said to distribute knowledge widely. Like a stone thrown into a pond.  If Nāgārjuna is a wider term for a nagal teacher in the Indian sub-continent then this suggests that the core Toltec and Vedic / Buddhist teachings are similarly sourced and may differ only in method of expression and verbalisation. The term is a generic and not a specific and personal name.

I personally have not found any huge glaring clashes between these philosophies. There is a marked difference in emphasis and the cultural refence points and metaphors employed.

The entertainment mentioned above is not completely inconsistent with a hierarchy of spiritual “masters” on overwatch of humanity. However in order to make it dramatically appealing they must have meaty bits and interpersonal relations such as love with hints of corporeal hanky-panky.

Too abstract and the film would not sell. The immortals have to be beautiful people if good and have ugliness if bad. One is not allowed a minger of an immortal. They must be L’Oréal advert fresh out of the shower from time to time.

Having a “hot” teacher can badly detract from learning.

It is not difficult to see that the course of human history did indeed pivot around relatively small and local acts. The execution of Jesus ended up being a game changer. The invention of antibiotics added number density to humanity.  An assassination was used as a pretext for the first world war. If there is tension a simple fuse is all that is needed to ignite. A miscalculation in a Bay of Pigs might cause a nuclear winter. The simple protection of a Buddha from the rain enabled the propagation of the teachings for mind.

Humanity is prone to flying off the handle in rage and “self-righteous” indignation. Humanity has a “cob” on and is very prone to fits of angry pique which kill hundreds of thousands.

In the absence of overwatch might the history of humanity have been even more bloody and brutal?

We are heading into unknown territories with AI and Drone-robotics. What are the two biggest markets? War and sex. Thus humanity will expend effort into developing these for profit applications. Since the theoretical abolition of slavery humanity seeks a replacement.  I read yesterday that progress toward in vitro spermatogenesis is advancing, if the same continues for human eggs it may be possible to make a human-like foetus. A synthetic human is unlikely to have an indwelling Soul. This biological dabbling and getting a blind boner for technology represents a Pandora’s box the lid of which humanity will find difficult to resist. What is unleashed now and later in this century may cease to be readily controllable. The temptation of cash and the arrogant appeal of God-like potential may lead humanity down a very dark path indeed. It may regret…

How might Andy and the Highlander come to the rescue?

London Welsh – Rugby Dream 06-07-2025 – Russia – France

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Here is last night’s dream. We watched a recording of the Wales V Japan rugby match on the TV in which there was little inventiveness on the part of Wales.

The dream starts in a daylit room. I am sorting out some washing and come upon a red old-style rugby jersey made of thick linen and with a white button up collar. It has long sleeves and has been worn before. It is mine.  I pick it up, take off my t-shirt and try it on. It fits if a little tight. There is a strong feeling of Southern hemisphere.

I am next walking with John Williams to a clubhouse facility in the middle of several grass sports pitches some of which have rugby goal posts. I am dressed in normal clothes. We enter the clubhouse and it is the London Welsh rugby club dressing rooms / clubhouse. I am welcomed back by several of the team who recognise me. There are some new faces and everyone is getting changed into the red rugby jerseys with white old-style shorts. There are several teams from elite to social. The club physios and doctors are there. Siân and her team of young female physios are there. She is dressed in t-shirt and shorts with her blonde hair tied back in a pony tail. She has a strong Welsh accent. She is checking that people are fit to play. She comes over and has a cursory examination of my back and hips and clears me.

I am then ushered over to a table by the club “secretariat”. They want me to sign a membership form and pay my club dues. They say that a portion of the fee goes to the WRFU to help the national team. I say that I do not know which address to put in as I am between places. “Do I put in my French address for now?” “Yes”.

We do not yet know if we will be playing because there has been some snow overnight and the pitch might be too hard. We make our way out to the pitch. As I will be playing hooker from the bench I will need to know the lineout calls. One of the props says that he will whisper the actual as opposed to coded call for me so that I know where to throw in. I ask him to “scrum down” with me so that I can test how my hips hold up under pressure. We do this and I am able to hold his push and twist his body and lift him. He says that I will be fine, I cannot keep my Ventolin in my pocket. So I walk to the halfway touch flag and deposit it there, next to the pole.

The referee has declared the pitch match ready and we prepare for kick off. Even though I am old I know that in terms of cardiovascular and strength I will be able to keep up.

The dream ends.

I am reminded of my Dancing with Ganesh dream on waking.

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Around 40 years ago I played in a social rugby team at London Welsh which was filled with young professionals. The pack has several Ph.D. and lawyers.

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I wake up. It is around 5 AM. I feel no pain. Slowly the pain in my spine builds in. I drift off back to sleep.

It is ago, a few hundred years, and I am in Saint Petersburg at some kind of posh social event. I am among a delegation that is working between France and Russia, to try to find common ground. It is delicate work and the French are being difficult and uncooperative. The Russians are waiting for the French to decide and commit to something. A senior Russian court figure says to me that I need to make it clear that to the French it is they the French who are holding things up. I speak both languages. This segment pertains to “pony-tail” man. I am he again.

The dream ends

Siege – “Confederate” -Tarot – Dream 02-07-2025

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Here is last night’s dream. I managed to sleep until 5 AM without interruption which is unusual these days. We watched the film “Old Guard” last night.

The dream starts in the South-Eastern corner of America. It is in the recent past. It is sweltering hot, humid and sweaty. We are under siege. We can hear gunfire from the nearby town which is surrounded. There is smoke in the air and cordite on the wind. From time to time the night sky lights up with an orange light from afar due to a large munition. They are being pounded. We too are besieged but by a much smaller force. It is quiet where we are but we know that they are out there on our property in numbers.

In the dream I am very surprised to be in America. Though it does make sense.

I am sat at a large table in the kitchen or scullery. There are candles burning and several finished bottles of wine. I have a glass on the go. We are speaking Cajun or creole French. There are a few of us white and a few servants or slaves black. We have all hastily eaten something quick. Others are keeping watch. We are in some wooded “mansion” type house on a plantation of sorts. The windows are boarded up from the inside.

On the table is a tarot deck de Marseilles. On the wall there are pictures of soldiers in a kind of uniform of dull grey colour. My minds thinks Confederate but it could have been earlier. It could be militia but is definitely not redcoat.  There is an air of civil war or revolution and of tearing apart. On the table I can see the cards 0,1 and 10. The cards are le mat, le bateleur and la roue de fortune. I focus on the latter. It seems apt. Also on the table someone has been sketching a contemporary “confederate” set of cards and having them cut out. The table is like that of le bateleur in front of us. The tarot arcana have been given a modern twist. La roue de fortune is comprised two pistols intertwined head to tail to make a kind of pistol ying-yang circle. Other figures are made contemporary with white wigs sat on judicial “thrones”. One of the company is whiling away the time drawing. We all know what is coming in the morning. One of the black women in a dark blue dress clears the plates from the table. One man in the corner is drinking brandy to forget. There is a sense of impending.

The scene changes to morning. We are outside in daylight. I am wearing black riding boots, black pants and a dirty white blouson shirt with a lace up closure in the front. It is partially undone. I have blood spatters on it. It needs a wash as do I. My long dark brown hair is held at the back in a pony tail. I am partially dishevelled and have been roughed up. My hands are tied behind my back and I am being held by them. I am being brought before. I can sense a pistol very close to my right temple. I can sense an arm and a hand holding it. They are going to execute me. I see a flash of smoke as the pistol mechanism fires. I hear a loud bang.

In the dream I know that it does not kill me because I can see myself back in Europe as an older man with a white-grey ponytail and clean shirt sat at my desk. This shooting is early in my previous life.

The dream ends.

Karma and End of Life

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In my opinion it is very unwise to discount the effects of karma both as an individual, as a group or as a nation. Karma suggests that behavioural causes have inevitable effects. Our actions create our future. There are consequences.

Of course, there is no compelling reason why you should pay heed to my opinion. I am not some big cheese new-age book-selling guru, nor have I been recommended by hosts of followers {paid or otherwise}. I am not famous and I have no introduction written by a senior religious figure, a lama with a throne. My provenance if unknown and/or dodgy.  I am a retired person living in the countryside without cult or church. Perhaps a lone eccentric in a quiet by-way of a vast internet.

In the philosophy of karma, what you sow you reap.

It is not a great step to imagine that harvest comes towards the end of life. That harvest might be of a dual kind, material financial to retire on and spiritual karmic to set up the next evolutionary step, the next life. By the time you reach the autumn of life one might speculate that one has learned good from bad. One may have acquired a modicum of wisdom and life experience. In the light of that knowledge what you do towards end of life is more important because you can no longer plead inexperience or ignorance. As knowledge increases so does karmic import, karmic impact. You know better. You may not behave consistently with this knowledge.

The time in and around your {natural} death is the harvest of karma from this life and the others which precede. One might die well or cling on to the starboard bow with all your energy, afraid of letting go of the ship of life. In order to die “well” it is perhaps wise to pay off any residual karmic debt {if possible} before passing. This is because karmic debt accrues interest. One might wish an enabling birth subsequent.

But if you are of the “phew I got away with it” mentality under no circumstances, might you feel it necessary to settle accounts. You might take your smugness to the crematorium. You may remain stubbornly convinced, entitled even. As the crem gas burners light, you may look on and still think, “I told you so, there is no life after death!”

Even if you do not believe in karma, in the philosophy of karma, your words, deeds and bile add up. Karmically, you deny karma until such time as karma makes itself irrevocably obvious to you. You can struggle but karma is “bigger” than any petty human. Sooner or later “you” learn and your dogmatic adamant insistence to the contrary is shown to be flawed and inaccurate. This can come as quite a shock!!

For example, if you had unresolved karma with me, once divested of your stubborn personality vehicle, we might meet on the cusp of the dream, in the in between of worlds after physical plane death. There you cannot pretend not to have seen me or make an excuse because you are busy. I, still living, would not be surprised to see you but sure as hell you might be. What might you say?

At one time I briefly considered working with end of life care. But when I thought about it, I might go down like a lead balloon with friends and family.

From a Buddhist perspective having a “good” death gains karmic merit, it is a stepping stone, to the other shore of liberation. Being awake and conscious at withdrawal eases the transfer of emotive unpleasantness and thereby lessens the ongoing karmic burden. Panic and fear are not helpful; resistance is ultimately futile. Because of modern medicine I have had six more years. In the old days I would have died when I broke my femur.

I have a pet theory that modern medicine has complicated the workings of karma. That makes sense because karma too must evolve. Human choices are more nuanced than they once were. The temptation to strive to have life on you own terms and to try to dictate to the universe is strong.

In my dreams I have foreseen meetings {after their death} with a number of individuals with whom I was once acquainted. To my knowledge most of them still breathe earth air. If my dreams are predictive, we shall meet again in a “place” with which I am the more familiar.

What I am hinting here is that karma does not cease on “dying” but persists into the in-between experience on going. The slate is not wiped clean. How you live your life at and towards the end matters.

As I suggested at the beginning it is unwise to discount the notion of karma.

Revisiting the “Thai” Incarnation – Ong Bak

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I mentioned earlier in the blog that around 2003 I started having visions of myself as Buddhist priest / monk with om mane padme hum tattooed on my forearms in Sanskrit. This tattooing suggested the Sak Yant of Thai, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia / Burma, I could not see the colour of the robes in those visions but was certain that the calligraphy was not Tibetan.

More recently I had an “Indochina” dream, a link is below.

One could say that the Buddhist Muay Thai dream resulted from me watching Tony Jaa in the early Ong Bak films. But I don’t think so.

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As a regular user of Watkins books where one can find much on “spirituality” I frequented Cecil Court near Trafalgar Square, London. There was an artefact shop opposite. There I purchased this Buddha / Avalokiteśvara. He is sitting in our hallway to this day.

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At the time I was talking with a chemistry student during her final year research project on statute patinas joint with The Royal College of Art. The shop has moved probably to Camden. I had a long conversation with proprietor about how the village from which he sourced the statuettes used special techniques to create ancient looking patinas.

Many years later following on from a dream I visited a Thai Forest Buddhist centre, Cittaviveka, also known as Chithurst Buddhist Monastery. This was not far from where we lived in the UK.

When I had the “Thai” dream in 2023 I was genuinely quite surprised because I had mentally ruled out Indochina. But today that notion has again resurfaced. The hair-do on the statute is very Indochina – style. I have said “Thai” but it could be elsewhere on the peninsula.

The Buddhist thread is linked to the pen-pal of the wife’s mother who was the daughter of a Sri Lankan ambassador and a Pali Scholar, the author of a Pali dictionary and important to the spread of Buddhism to London. This is the Theravada link.

The monk I spoke with at Cittaviveka had looked after Christmas Humphreys. A key figure in bringing Buddhism and meditation to London.

In that dream for the first time, “I am wearing only some saffron-yellow trousers.” I am clearly Asian.

Hmnn…

Bumpkins Go to Saint Helier

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It is very difficult to get across to most people just how out of touch we are with modern living and specifically people density and noise. Aside from medics, tradesmen and checkout people, I speak with nobody other than the wife. This has been the case for quite a while, over six years. I have spoken in person to/with her brother and friends when they visited. I have had very few zoom type calls in that six year period. Certainly, less than two dozen. I do not speak on the ‘phone. Nor do I chat via email or WhatsApp whatever the hell that is.

In many ways I am a bumpkin, a pikey and a hermit. I am no longer accustomed to “sophistication” nor the high octane pace of somewhere like Saint Helier Jersey. {Population~ 30k}

I am unaccustomed to any social interaction.

Part of the purpose of visiting Jersey was to see how it felt to be surrounded by people and anglophone people at that. It is fair to say that I am still a little shell shocked. We were out of the compound for less than 48 hours and in the Metropolis for 24.

The fist thing I noted was just how frantic and ill at ease people were. The energy they were giving off was edgy and wanting to please, to fit in. The manager at Pizza Express asked us if we wanted the app…Why? I don’t use apps and we have not been to a Pizza Express for more than six years. I did not even have a ‘phone.

The people in Jersey seemed rushed and hassled compared to here. And boy were they loud when bullshitting each other. I noted several chunky “personal trainer” types, keen to exploit the Jersey dollar for fitness and “well-being”. There is money and it attracts.

The only calm experience, outside interaction, I had was when I sat on the bench outside M&S and a well-heeled woman older than me sat next. Neither of us were rushed. We shared silence for a few minutes. She went into Givenchy. The main street was a bit like a cross between high street Guildford and Bond Street London.

Jersey is clean and “posh”. It is also surprisingly multi-national with people there to meet the services sector demand. I used to hang out in posh places, South Kensington and earlier Mayfair / Piccadilly. I lived in Brixton.

The hotel we stayed at was very nice. We ate at the hotel restaurant. They played loud “party” music and people outside on the terrace were necking booze and smoking or vaping. The food was good and the service very, perhaps overly, quick. There was noise and laughter outside. I thought to myself that once I used to do that kind of thing. I would have been content as a Brit on the piss. It all seemed more than a little forced and false. It was hurried. There were ostentatious handshakes and kissy-kissy helloes.

I was the alien from another planet. I was able to order, in English, food from the pygmy African waitress. I was observing, earth.

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The rheumatologist suggested we move to Jersey for the “quality of life”. It did not seem that attractive to me. How do you explain quiet tranquillity with no social interaction and a gentle river running through the garden? That has quality and not a constant needy need for social interaction and social affirmation. There is no need for endless consumption, conspicuous or otherwise.

I am still sighing a little, a whole day later.

What is obvious from that visit is that it is probably not wise to live in a “built-up” area and that I do not miss the people in whose country I once lived. I do not need that English vibe.

It might be possible to live in the countryside and visit an urban “metropolis” when there is a need.

Unfortunately, I am like a sponge and can pick up all that emitted jangly nervous energy. It made “in town” sleeping hard.

Theoretically It would be possible to earn money tutoring wealthy kids in physics and chemistry on Jersey. But I don’t think there is anywhere there far enough away from “civilization”.

If I found Jersey difficult to hack, London would cause a complete meltdown.

Did I really get on the Victoria Line every weekday morning during rush hour? Really? And without any medication?

In terms of incarnation that seems like the most surreal incarnation that I have ever had.

Still more than a little shell shocked after only a very brief jaunt…