Category: “Security” Themed

Behind Closed Doors – Nile Perch – Brockwell Park Dream Snippets 29-10-2025

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Here are last night’s dream snippets some of them are at 90 mph…

The first part of the sequence begins in London. There are various meetings going on after hours and behind closed doors in which I am somehow the subject / object of the meeting. I am somehow seen as the “problem”. There is one among male UK academics roughly of my generation. I had acquaintance of these. There is one involving people who could be seen as the generation before me and a current university VC. Of these I had passing acquaintance of one female and longer of another male, they are near end of life. The VC is only a bit older than me. There is one meeting which is part virtual with people in the USA. I have never personally met the protagonists. This has a political / intelligence flavour. There is one meeting which is distinctly Tibetan and not London based. The scenes flash by at “90 mph”. In the dream I want to say that they have done nothing which is strictly speaking illegal nor overly dodgy in the view of current normal practices and behaviour. Therefore from my point of view there is nothing to discuss, nor do they have anything which needs attention. They do not need to do anything at all.

The scene now changes to Africa. We are at a camp site near an inland lake or reservoir. We are packing up to catch the plane home. In my pocket I have a small fishing lure, a spinner, a spinning spoon around a “pole” with a tri-pronged hook. It has a small purple feather. Before we leave I would like to try to catch a “bream” or Nile perch. The man I am with draws off some line from a rod reel combination. The line is very thick and strong. I need to tie the lure on with a leader. I try time and again to attach a leader to the line. Each time I do so and give a good tug the leader comes away from the main line. I think, “clearly I am not supposed to do this”. I give up my efforts and help load the safari Land Rovers to leave.

The scene changes to Brockwell Park in Brixton a place where I frequented a lot. It has a lot of stored memories and previously emotive things for me. It was very much a part of my former London life. I am with the wife and some kind of assistant / facilitator. His job is to look after me and my wants. I show him the ponds and explain that the local schools do biology lessons therefrom. I then show him one of the large old style Brixton converted “mansions”. I say that I want to explore to see if there is any draw. To see if it reminds me of my old flat. We break in through the ground floor back door and head out of the front door. The hallway is spacious and there is no damage we easily unlock the doors. I want to head up hill to show him where I used to live. As we go uphill I see a huge building project. A whole terrace has been demolished for a park side new build. It does not look good. Further up the hill another terrace has been removed by the diggers. They have yet to uproot the very old very large trees. They will need to dig deep to make good foundations. I cannot find the building in which my old flat was. I nip into one of the new build shells and hide from the builders to take a piss in a tiny pink WC. I finish and as I leave one of the builders shouts “oi”. I say that I used to live here and was bursting for a leak. He waves me on.

As I come to I note there is no point searching for the past because it no longer exists. I note that as we were non binary about France or England the future may lie elsewhere. I also note that the reason we love this house is the garden and nature, which I may rekindle after my operation(s). I am not seeing clearly.

The dreaming sequence ends…

Retired General – Subjective – Boris Johnson Dream 24-10-2025

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This dream had between 06:20 and 08:45 this morning. This out of the blue and then again perhaps not.

The dream opens in some kind of exhibition or fayre. It has a new age vibe to it and is in a large hall with high ceilings. It has an orangery feel, light and spacious. It feels close to Westminster central London, Thames. I have a small exhibit table upon which I am laying out some information. One of the posters has a background colour and design which exactly matches the table. The words therefore appear written on the table.

Along the mezzanine gallery, where I am, I spot a man a little older than me. He is wearing a windowpane light brown lined posh country hunting shirt and dark brown corduroy trousers. He is slightly balding and has allowed his hair to grow slightly. He has a mild ruddy complexion and looks completely out of place. On his table he has some maps. I know that he is military or ex-military. I go over to inquire as to why he is at this event.

As I approach it is clear that he has some prior knowledge about me, perhaps has been briefed. I ask him what he is interested in. He says subjective contact. I have a knowing that he is/was a general {perhaps major-general}.  I say that I have had subjective contact and that I am perhaps less flaky than others who might make such a claim. He imagines that I am an accidental receiver. He does not understand. He asks how I got into these things. I explain that Peter had a hand. He says without prompting that he knows Peter from the commandos and that Peter had a hand in his interest too. I ask him if he is fully retired. He says that generals never fully retire and that they continue to help out where they can. I say that he has deniability because he is no longer directly affiliated. He nods. I add that at any time he could be denied and any claimed association disproved. He is not official. He nods. I suggest that he has been sent here specifically to talk with me. He neither nods nor does not. There is a kind of acknowledgment. He is on a loose one from military intelligence (MI).

The scene changes and I am now sat in the audience of a talk at the event with Boris Johnson. We are enjoying each other’s company and he is being his public jocular buffoonery self. As suspected he is fun to talk with. But I can feel a hard driven purposeful edge behind the guise of his clowning. He too can talk freely because he is no longer implicitly associated with government. I tease him that his father paid for his accent and that now he is bored he could always become an evangelical preacher something his has the gift for. He then mimics Ian Paisley in a manner that has us both and Carrie in stitches. He has a gift for comedy.

The whole thing is frightfully, frightfully English.

On waking I think that it is odd that MI is again in my dreams. I am not surprised that there might be an interest.

The dream ends.

The Shit Hits the Fan Dream 17-20-2025

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I could not think of a better title for this. This dream was hectic swirling and as such some of the detail {believe it or not} is scant of recall. Yet the feeling of something breaking through from the dreaming and under some kind of “pressure” so to do is strong. The feeling is of “out of my hands” and “beyond my control”. In the dream I am unconcerned by the “nascent” chaos, I am calm in the storm.

The dream opens on a large rural property in France. It is our property but not the current one. In the corner of the property by the gate and the house I note first a ship container like builders’ office. There are JCBs and assorted land moving machines. A canteen. There are piles of building materials like gravel and hardcore. There are bricks and beams. They do not have my permission to be there.

I go over to the cabin and demand to see the site manager. I ask him what the fuck he is doing there, what the fuck are they doing? He says that we thought you would like it. We are doing it for you.

I explain to him that he could not be more thoroughly mistaken. It is not what I want. It is not what I desire. They do not have my permission and that to try to imagine what I want is sheer fucking idiocy. I say that unless they start packing up soon, I will come back with my shotgun. Under no circumstance is their imagined plan a good idea nor what I want. It is a fucking mess.

I go off to the house and come back with an SLR camera and start taking photos of people and kit, collecting evidence. The site “manager” is on the ‘phone to his boss who subsequently turns up. He says that we thought you would like it and that the plans are too late to stop. I say to him that stop they will, or I will make an inordinate hoo-hah and a scene the likes of which they have never seen before. I am already transmitting images to the press and the mayor’s office. They send JCBs etc. to threaten the mayor’s office but I have forewarned the press and the local community who are waiting for them. The whole situation is escalating beyond their control. I have leaked the financial accounts from the building group and its parent company and searches into their propriety are under way. I say that I warned them not to do things without asking me thinking that it is “what I would want”. Thinking that they know what I would want. Thinking that I would accept it and be pleased. I say to them that they have no fucking idea and that this mess is just the beginning. The mess, the shit has started hitting the fan big time.

{Implicit is again and the language use is as recalled from the dream}.

The scene changes and I am arriving at a Cotswold stone library with stained glass arched church like windows. Outside the library are a several reporters with cameras and microphones. They have heard that I am coming and are waiting to ambush me. I walk through the crowd, and several people push microphones in front of me. I say that I will organise a more civilised conference and not a scrum. I’ll set up in the town hall so please to be patient.

Later in the town market hall there is a press conference. It turns out the reporters have been investigating every aspect of my life from my schooling, where I went to university and which universities I have taught at. They have been doing a deep dive investigation into my life. The implications for the institutions have been big. I don’t care overmuch because I have nothing to hide. The search has also been security service themed. They too have been doing a deep dive look. The institutions are in “trouble” from a PR perspective because they have been trying to clamp down and keep secret / quiet which has only encouraged a wider and deeper interest. “What are they trying to hide?” being a journalistic motivator. British academia in particular is under scrutiny. The journalists start by asking me about mundane aspects of my current life. The whole thing is chaotic and out of control. I am completely unfazed, the snowball effect has started.

The scene changes to a European possibly Swiss university. It becomes clear that this is in fact Bern. My former supervisor is putting on a laser and light festival for the town at Christmas. I warn him via his secretary about the ongoing investigation. He is unperturbed and asks if I would like to help him with the light show. I say it is a good idea; I would like to but probably best for the event if I stay away.

As I am coming to, I am slightly tired because of the hectic nature of the dream and unsurprised at the theme of other people thinking that they know what is best for me and what it is that I want. When as is always they case they have no fucking idea. The feeling is that something has now been started which must simply unfold. Chaos may be on the wind.

I wake up thinking along the lines of same shit different day.

Shadow Dreaming Protocol Dream 15-10-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. The first had in the Cotswolds. The first segment was before 3 AM the second after yet before 6.

The dream opens in a vast underground complex. It is somehow “top secret”. I am walking along with a British person who is “liaison”. He is younger than me and skilled at handling people. He is smooth and a little smarmy. We can see large vehicles driving off a main cavernous space which houses the project off to one side. The personnel are American military who are wearing light khaki-brown dress as opposed to battle fatigue army issue. There are some driving in open Jeep style vehicles.

He leads me off into a side tunnel which is much quieter, and we walk for quite a while. He says and I understand that this is the Dreaming project. Known as the Shadow Dreaming Protocol. It is an offset of military intelligence psi-ops. The project is currently well funded. He says that for the purposes of today’s meeting and ongoing I will have the assumed rank of colonel. This will enable me in the context of the project. We will be meeting our American counterparts in due course but first I must get cleared into the facility.

 I go for a loo break and some more painkiller.

Back in the dream. I am in an office which is well lit. It is in the UK. I am with a tall English woman with short hair and “horsey” mildly lesbian vibes. She is used to being obeyed and has an air of command about her. She knows of the Shadow Dreaming Protocol and wants me to get involved with the British arm. In the dream I have known for a long time that I will meet her. She says that I should think things over about how I will be involved, there is no “if” merely a how and in what way.

I leave the office and am now sat in front of a computer. I have received an email out-of-the-blue from Ian. In the email are links to two videos. I open them up and in the first one he is driving a small red antique Massey Fergusson tractor down a country street. In the second he is on an Eden Parc sit on mower with collecting bag. He is whizzing around. I think to myself to contact him back and say that I can’t match the tractor but can match the Eden Parc.

In the email there is attached correspondence between him and his uncle. I remember that Ian’s family circumstance was complex, and he did not know his father. His long-lost uncle has gotten in touch. The email chain below has some Russian Cyrillic and English Roman text. It too shares some of the theme of dreaming something which Ian has always been proficient in though unspoken about. I think to myself that it would be intrusive to email him back.

As I am coming to, I have a strong visual image of the woman from before together with Boris Johnson {of all people}.

I realise I will not yet go back to sleep so get up and type this.

South Kensington Bank – KGB – Dream 08-10-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. Where this came from I do not know.

The dream opens in a small plush bank very near South Kensington tube station. It is a private bank and the sense is it is for the well and ultra-well heeled. It has a distinctly Russian flavour and a faint whiff of oligarch. I am talking with a cash teller about some different kinds of account. She is slick and very professional. Her English is crisp-perfect and she is immaculate. I feel at home and safe. As usual the posh circumstance does not faze me. She gives me some literature to look at. As I go to leave a man in his thirties who works at the bank starts to engage me in conversation. He looks physically fit and his stance is “fighting” balanced. He continues to probe about me and my business.

I ask him , “KGB?”

He pauses to think and then says, “Yes, well not quite, something similar, more modern.” As he says this he allows a faint Russian accent to show. We smile in good spirits and I leave the bank.

I know that I will recognise him if I ever see him again.

I return some time later with a tall woman with dark hair. She is expensively dressed and partially eastern European. We go into the bank and I help arrange various financial currency instruments to be cashed, if needed, in global locations when she is on her travels. There is a sense that sanctions against Russia have made this more tricky. We leave the bank and are followed by thick set big man well over six feet. He has a very expensive lather jacket and close cropped blond hair. He has a ruddy face and I know that he is fond of a good piss up.

We head off down towards the tube station. He is behind us. As we are going down the stairs we are met by another Russian coming up the stairs. He stands in front of the woman and sort of ushers her back upstairs like a sheep. I draw a telescopic police baton and open it. The man on the stairs pauses. She looks at me and by gesture says for me to desist. These men are known to her. They work for her “father”. We all go upstairs to a large car / limousine waiting on the road. She is ushered in to the back seat. I go to join her but the leather jacket man says no. I am not to worry they and she will be in contact with me soon. All sense of tension has evaporated.

I head off to the tube station collapsing the telescopic baton as I do. As I go down the steps into the station I make a note in the dream to avoid London like the plague and to stay well away from South Kensington in particular.

The dream ends.

As I come to I am reminded of when I walked into a commercial posh bank in Kensington ~25 years ago. I was dressed as per usual in black Levis’ and a polo shirt. I said that I wanted to open an account. They were pretty sceptical. I said that we had just raised  £5 million start-up funds. They ushered me into a posh office for a coffee and metaphorical BJ. In an instant their tone had changed.

On waking I have an intuition that should anyone intervene personally with me it is most likely to be the Russians.

Special Forces Kidnap Dream – 28-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 4 and 7 AM. Another totally out-of-the-blue dream.

The dream starts in a very crowded place, some kind of event in the UK. It has the feel of a posh horse race. Some are overdressed. Everyone is looking in one direction. I am there with the wife who is standing next to me. There is noise and a feeling of crowd group mentality. The wife is standing to my left.

There is a very large man standing behind me and a big one to my right. He grabs my right bicep very firmly and the man behind me moves closer.  The one holding my bicep says to me in an Eastern Europe accent {query Russian} not to move. With his free right hand he shows me an automatic pistol in his military style belt. Under his bomber style jacket he is also wearing a black Kevlar style bullet proof anti-stab vest. His grip is very firm and he says that I have to go with them and quietly. The wife sees what is happening and I tell her to remain calm. We move off from the crowd and towards a waiting transit van which is dark in colour and windowless in the back. The other man is also armed.  They have short blonde military style haircuts and feel special forces or secret service. They have blueish eyes. I understand that they are the “muscle” or “goons”. All the while we are walking to the van the first man has a strong grip on my arm. I relax completely and do not resist. I can tell from the motion feedback in his arm that this surprises him. I am very calm and very focussed.

They put me in the van and drive off. Some considerable time later we are in an empty underground carpark which can hold maybe half a dozen cars. I can hear the metal shutter roll doors closing as they pull me out of the back of the van. I am wearing metal handcuffs. The driver of the van remains seated. I am now outside the van facing my two captors. From their movements they are lithe and physically fit. The bigger man must be 130-140 kg and well over six feet tall. In my mind I think second row forward. The smaller mans says that I have been inordinately difficult to find. That they have been looking for me for a while and that I am going to be questioned. They are going to interrogate me at “the” facility. The smaller man says that they are going to get into my mind one way or another, they always do. I think to myself, “good luck.”

The bigger of the two men stands in front of me and makes me put my handcuffed hands out. He then interlocks his fingers with mine. His right hand to my left and his left to my right. We stand facing each other  with hands interlocked. He towers over me. I shift my weight and get under his hands picking him up into the air. It is mildly painful for him. I have to put him down. He lets go and smiles. He jokes that the first round goes to me. Which both he and his companion find very funny. I am completely aware of the high level of brutality which may follow but know that will not bring them the answers, the truths which they might seek. I start to think how I might play on their superstitions and fear of the darkness and evils. I start to conjure in my mind the blue fire dragons which I will unleash when ready.

They lead me up to a shared living space. There are other prisoners there and a rudimentary kitchen. There is an Indian man and his wife. There is a Chinese looking man. In the kitchen I can see that the cutlery is plastic. They lead me off into a concrete floored room with a high ceiling and a single old-fashioned school chair. There is no toilet or heating. The room is sparse. The floor is sloping. They lock the door behind me. I go and piss in the corner of the room where the slope causes a small puddle of urine to form. I know that I am being observed on CCTV. I go back to the chair and sit down. I start to meditate and build the pool of blue electric fire out of which I can send dragons to watch their families, to observe and report back.

The dream ends.

Quantum Modalities – Ai Tosh – Three Cats Dreaming 27-09-2025

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Here is last night’s dreaming. The first part came from a sleep which lasted through to ~6 AM. Given the current state of my body this length is nigh on unheard of!

The dream starts with me pulling up by car at some huge generic modern science park with start-ups and conference facilities. There is much new building work evident. I park outside the conference centre and go in. The front desk directs me to the workshop on “Quantum Modalities”. It is in a suite of purpose built smaller conference rooms.

I arrive at the reception where there is a man and two female administrators. They are handing out badges on lanyards and marking attendance. The man is mid-thirties, the women slightly younger. They are professional and slick. The man takes me by the arm and leads me to a session. He explains that it is by way of think tank for kicking around ideas and concepts. No limits. He says that there are several teams, focus groups. He leads me to one team sat around a table arranged in a square, with a gap in the middle, like a square polo mint. The people are mostly men and all forty or younger. They are smart, well paid, vocal and energetic. My age and demeanour is in very marked contrast. The man introduces me to the group lead who is an Italian with excellent English. He is from the European grouping. He looks at my lanyard and welcomes me. He asks my background and I say that it is lasers and diverse types of optical spectroscopy. The others largely ignore me. I am not one of the “gang”.

A discussion starts about which modalities can be ruled out for optical quantum computing. These include infrared and solid state absorption due to decoherence. I say that my best bet is on background free ion detected stimulated Raman. They nod and slightly ignore my suggestion. I am after all the dinosaur. It is clear to me that they are fixated on the traditional notion of computing based around a microprocessor core and conventional binary type computation. Their thinking is generic and almost clone like in its similarity. They can only envision a static computer. I can see a visual image of a shiny microprocessor lit from above. It holds their minds. They go on largely talking among themselves. I get up and leave. Nobody notices.

In the main auditorium there is a talk on the future of AI. On stage is a smart young woman late thirties in a skirt suit with blue shirt. She is CEO grade. She has a headset with earphones and a microphone on, TED like. She has an accent from the USA bay area conurbation. She is speaking jargon buzzword tosh and not actually saying anything other than buzzword mantra. I know that the reason AI is popular is because the end of Silicon miniaturisation is nigh. They are reaching the atomic limits of processing. The industry is bricking it because they do not know what comes after Silicon. I find the talk yawn-some so I get up and leave.

I go to the bathroom and am very surprised that the large numbers on our “nanna” clock say 6 AM.

Back in bed I have to make a deliberate effort not to think about quantum modalities because I want to go back to sleep. I keep coming back to the idea that the “processor” cannot be a static thing. And that a totally genuinely radical re-think is needed to implement and optimise how to use quantum efficacy. They are currently at a conceptual dead end, blocked.

I manage to drift off.

The next segment has me arriving at another meeting this time held at a British governmental lab facility. It smacks of the tea and cake, white bread sandwiches canteen. It is an adjoint facility to a secure defence establishment like AWE. It is outside the fence. Nevertheless there are security {military police?} there. I go into reception. I am very early for the afternoon meeting I have been invited to. I am not on the lists that the reception has yet. I say that I am there for the afternoon meeting. He ushers me to a table where I can set up my laptop. I do this and get bored.

I go outside onto a grassy space with a slight slope. Lying on the upsloping ground I boot up the lap top. I am joined by the three cats, Bibi, Gandalf and Felix. Felix {now presumed dead} looks young and clean. The cats sit around the lap top and we are serene enjoying the outdoors in the autumn sun.

A young man and woman are nearby and they say hi. They are going back to London. I offer to give them a lift. I cannot be bothered to wait for the afternoon session. We head back towards the car. Bibi darts across the road stopping traffic. She is unhurt. Gandalf has climbed on my shoulders and Felix lies in the gutter playfully. The so-called wild cat offers me his belly to tickle which I do. I then pick him up and place him on my right shoulder so that I have a cat on each shoulder. Together with the couple we cross the road on a zebra crossing. We are joined by Bibi on foot. We make a slightly odd sight

We are nearing the site canteen and it is very busy. People are chatting on their way to lunch. Bellies are rumbling. There is a hub-bub. I try to remain inconspicuous looking to avoid anyone I might know. There is nobody. We make it to the car park and we all get into the car, three cats, me and the young couple.

The dreaming ends.

Ian – P&L – Didn’t Ask – Avocat – Big Mistake – Dream 25-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. It is perhaps the most out-of-the-blue I have had considering the subject matter. It was from between 6:15 and 8 AM. I had thought that the present “cluster” of dreams was over and that I would not go back to sleep.

I am sat in a lounge like living area of my house. Which differs from the current real world one. Ian my flatmate from the early eighties is with me. He has come for refuge from the hurly burly, the stresses and strains. We are chatting and I pour him a  glass of wine. He says that “they” are probably going to close his university department, meaning the “senior” management. It has been an uphill battle and student recruitment is down.

I offer to look at the P&L accounts for his department to see if there is anything he has missed. I explain to him that I was a company director. He hands them over and I do a thorough look. Two of the three sub-courses are loss making. I don’t see an obvious way to turn it around into profit, but losses can be reduced. I see an alternate revenue stream. Which we discuss. We have a brief siesta.

To get some fresh air we go out into the garden. It starts by looking like here. Then we get on a quad bike to explore more widely. He sits pillion and we race about having some fun. We come to an area of the garden. There is a paved path going from the main road across the/my property to a fenced off industrial quasi-governmental compound with low rise multi-storey buildings. There is a security fence with gate and pass code entry. This morning the path was not there. They have built it while we were asleep.

When the wife comes back from the supermarket she too will be unimpressed.

I drive up along the path to the security gate. Ian and I dismount. I press the buzzer on the gate and a workman in dark blue overalls appears. I ask why they thought it was a good idea to build the path across my land without permission or legal right of way. He does not understand English. So I repeat in French and say that I am about to call my avocat-attorney on the ‘phone. He needs to get me someone senior to talk to.

He goes and come back with a young man in his thirties-forties. He is wearing jacket and jeans. I ask him why he thought it was a good idea and otherwise OK to build on my land without asking and why they infringed property trespass. I will sue for trespass. He is placatory and acts as it does not matter, bof. I am unimpressed to understate.

I proceed in French to demand that he gets the company head because I will be taking the lot of them to court. I will hold each one personally responsible. I start to increase the intensity levels considerably.

He scuttles off and returns with a man around my age who is tall with receding hair. The man dismisses what I am saying. I say to him I have only one question for them. In English now.

“Why did they think it was fine to not ask me, to build without my permission, why?

He says that he has read about how tired I am and that they did not think that I would mind and that in any case there is not a lot I can do against a corporation like theirs.

I reiterate, “why did you think it was a good idea not to ask me?”

He says that they did not want to bother me and they thought that I would like this. I can have an honorarium for everyone who uses the path.

I switch back into French. I explain to him that a couple of decades ago I raised five million in start up funds and that the type of person who does this is not ordinary. That it is and was a very stupid thing to underestimate someone like me. I say that he is probably right that in the end they will “win” and I will loose money. I say that in the meantime I will make life incredibly difficult for them and that karmically speaking to behave in the manner towards me is utter stupidity. They do not understand quite how stupid.

As I say this I am swelling in intensity. The man who is used to being obeyed and having people fawn is finding the encounter very difficult. He does not know what to say or how to respond. His implicit threat has not worked. He looks nonplussed.

He says,  “but we thought you would not mind and that we did not need to ask you. We thought we were right…”

I say that they have made a grave and serious mistake.

The dream ends.

Note – I am capable of an interpersonal intensity which very few have experienced. I hold  back.