Category: “Security” Themed

Buddhist Child – US Report – French Doctor – Cittaviveka Dream Sequence 18-09-2025

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Here is last night’s dream sequence. I went to bed with a fairly decent head cold.

The dream starts viewing the outside of a Buddhist monastery in the bright morning sunlight. It is in the mountains. The walls of the monastery are a dark pastel puce colour. The finish on the wall is fairly rustic. There is an earthenware tiled roof with curved “oriental” beams protruding. It is Tibetan in style though I sense the word Mongol too. Stood there in the sunlight is a small Sino-Tibetan male child of around ten years age. He has mildly slanty oriental eyes and jet black hair. His eyes are dark. He is wearing monastic maroon robes and a winter “yak?” fur coat. His cheeks are ruddy from the cold. His face is neural of expression though I can sense a little mischief. We “know” each other. Well.

He is somehow ar-chay and sook-ray or sack-ray. The mind assembles the letters Aceh and sacré from the phonetics. Though the words, the sounds, are not English.

Either way I know him to be somehow holy and important. He is to be given to me for protection and education. In some way I am to assimilate him. I see him wearing a “boxy” hat which I understand to be like a crown. It is deep maroon. {On searching the internet the form is the same shape as a Tibetan ceremonial crown.} He is important and somehow also now a part of me.

The scene changes and I see a report. It is an A4 report bound with a cream cardboard cover. The cardboard has a slight sheen to it. To the left the report is bound with a navy-blue almost black spiral plastic binder. It is a little under a centimetre thick. Into the front of the report is cut a “window” which allows the title of the report to be viewed though the cover. I can see a two winged eagle above the subject line of the report. The eagle is in bright colour and I know that this is an official US government document. {On searching the logo is very similar to the official seal of the United States.} I know this to be some kind of intelligence or security briefing. The subject matter is me. There are at least half a dozen of these reports to be shared for discussion purposes. They are being shared with the British.

 The scene changes and I am in a high specification posh doctor surgery in France. I am talking with a tall blonde doctor who is in grey medical scrubs. Her hair is permed and curly and she speaks English with a faint French accent. She is examining me. She asks me if I can still emit energy from my hands and I say that from time to time, yes I can. She asks me if I will wash her hands for her. We go to a sink in the corner of the room which is a  bit cluttered. I clear the stuff away. She takes off her examination gloves. Using my elbow I turn on the elbow-tap. I place a very fluffy expensive white towel on the edge of the sink. I proceed to wash her hands with meticulous care, finger by finger. Which she seems to enjoy. We do this in silence. When I have finished I pat her hands dry. We both know that I am offering her a blessing of the highest order.

 We go over to her desk and she asks me to demonstrate palm to palm transfer of energy. Which I do. She then says that I must understand that the people around where I live in France will not understand me. They will have no notion of a person like me, implicit Rinpoche, is like nor what that means. I say that I already know this and have not in any way judged them. She thanks me and I her.

The scene now changes and I am in a large red brick house which has the feel of a large English village vicarage. I am a guest. The woman of the house is younger than me and the family are well to do. She is a member of the Sangha and has agreed to put me and the wife up. We are near Cittaviveka monastery in Midhurst.

I wake up early and go into the village. I need to get some electronic equipment to help follow a clue I have seen on the internet. I get some cable and some RF connectors to cramp on. The guy in the shop is sceptical that I can do this. I tell him I used to be a scientist. I get some other supplies. Across the road is another electronics shop. I go in but it has changed into a coffee shop.

I go back to the house and let myself in. I turn on the TV and connect an electronic box. I start to play an internet video which I decode via the box onto another screen. The video starts with Anthony talking about his new-found Buddhism. The decoder changes his image into flowing river going over a weir. I know this to be England. The weir is magnificent and I know that there will be barbel fish under the lip of the weir. I see the image of a young man whom I know is like me and whom I will meet.

The woman of the house comes downstairs she is very excited that I have made myself at home and offers us breakfast. Later in the day there is a meeting at Cittaviveka which has been convened specially for me, away from the city and the bright lights. Far from the press.

The dream ends and I think wow that was well and truly out of the blue. For some reason I have a visual image of Kate and William.

Diplomatic Close Protection – Canal Boat – Base – Dream 28-08-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream from around 6AM.

The dream opens in a canal boat rental office in, specifically, Altrincham. I am with my wife and two young women, late twenties early thirties. They are both armed with automatic pistols in Velcro holsters at waist level on the back. The weapons are Glock like. One of the women is right handed and the other left handed from the way the guns are situated for draw. They are wearing discrete Kevlar body armour  and have “security” communications earpieces. They are dressed in dark trousers and quasi-military shirts. They feel special forces like. One I know to be a lesbian and she is the senior. They work in diplomatic close protection and I am their charge. They are clearly physically fit and agile. They are alert. The idea being for us to hire a canal boat and head via the network to North Yorkshire because I will be off radar and there is little traffic now off season.

There are two women working in the canal boat office. They are wearing earphone microphone headpieces. The one I am talking with has frizzy poorly coloured bleach blonde hair. She is a bit giggly, flirty and fawning because she has seen me on the TV and recognises me from the news. I explain that we need a good comfortable canal boat for several weeks with satellite Wi-Fi. She shows us a catalogue and one of the protection agents selects a top model and says they will cover the bill. The women is told to remain quiet about what happened. She hands me the keys.

We make our way down to canal boat dock and are joined by the wife’s brother. He is taking it all in his stride and asks to drive the longboat. We set off with him at the wheel.

Nearby a residence / base has been set up and hired. It is a modern country property with two outdoor walled terraces which have awnings and heating. There is no line of sight to these terraces. The property also has a helipad. They are setting up the outdoor terrace for meetings / debriefs. I can see that there is a subtle security perimeter being put in place. The drive to the house from a country road is roughly half a kilometre. This property will be semi-permanent after the canal foray. People can visit me there unobtrusively.

Back in the canal boat we negotiate a shallow section. I can see in the reeds partially stranded a large predator salmon like fish {query Zander on writing}. I see this and think that I will be able to do canal fishing. We pull up to a mooring near a country pub. The wife’s brother goes over to a black SUV parked near a five bar wooden country gate to pick up fishing rods from extra “security” who have been shadowing the five of us. He rejoins the boat. The wife and I are in the galley and I am starting to prepare food for all of us.

The boat reaches a series of mounting locks. I joke to my brother in law that we had better look at the manual because the lock gates loom massive. We need to learn how to fill the lower portion of the lock.

The dream ends.

Quasi-Post Apocalyptic Recycling Centre Dream 24-08-2025

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This dream from between 4 and 7 AM this morning. It continues the theme of very diverse subject dreams and seems also out-of-the-blue.

The dream opens is a very brightly lit portacabin type building. The light is stark and there is a hum of fluorescent lighting that is getting old and resonating. The room is minimally furnished and it is an office, a site office. In the centre of the room is Sarah C much as she was three decades ago only slightly aged. She is wearing blue jeans and a cream-white jersey. She is very pleased to see me. She is stressed and under pressure, the load is heavy for her. She feels overwhelmed and downtrodden.

She walks over to me and wants me to put my hand down the front of her jeans. These are ill-fitting and too loose. Like everyone else she is undernourished. I put my hand down the front of her jeans and cannot discern any genitalia; she is like a plastic doll though warm to the touch. I withdraw my hand. She wants me to work with her, to have a relationship with her and to help her with the business. There is a knowing that she might grow genitalia in the future if the relationship works out more. There is a knowing that human reproductivity has failed. She knows that I can help her. It is her business and she is for now in charge and trying to do her best.

I return the next morning just before dawn on a winter morning. I am dressed in heavy clothes and I continue to examine the yard. There is no law and order. Government has broken down. There is a distinct post-apocalyptic sense. I look through the yard, it is a recycling centre. Sarah and her team have collected various objects according to type and are busy trying to arrange proper recycling of them. There are stacks of computers and keyboards, piles of furniture, piles of clothes, light bulbs,  metal drums, car parts and bottles. There are larger items of metal. I go into the portacabin and there is a tall woman there with unkept hair and fingerless gloves. She is a part of the collective. She has a Scandinavian accent to her English and asks me to sign a “contract” which I do. We both know that there in no longer anyone to enforce the contract but go through the civilities anyway. I will work with them. She takes me on a tour of the yard as the sun struggles to pierce the gloom. She shows me the white plastic five gallon volume drums for liquids. These are very valuable and bring a good price. I comment that there are no plastic supermarket bags anymore, thank God. We both chuckle. In a part of the yard there are piles of car batteries, gravel, sand and bark chips. There is a stock of shredded vegetable matter of high wood content. This is to be made into fuel briquettes. I am due to start work there in a few days’ time.

The next morning the site is attacked by several men with flat bed “pikey” trucks. The employees are threatened and some of the scrap metal is stolen. The team are very upset and scared, the men have threatened physical violence. I am to arrive early the next day.

The next morning I am there. We have not yet manged to fix that large metal security gate damaged in the attack the day before. Two trucks with men turn up and make their way into the compound. They start trying to gather more scrap metal. I go over to one pair of men and tell them to stop. They get right in my face and threaten me to get out of the way. I do not flinch and stare back into the face of one of them They threaten to beat me up. I say that this would not be a good idea, they are welcome to try and that I would not recommend it. I say that it is time for them all to leave. The intent in me starts to swell.  The men sensing a growing malevolence in me get back into their trucks and leave.

Everyone breathes a sigh of relief.

The dream ends.

Volcano Islands – DNA – Nirmāṇakāya- Warrior Girl Dream 23-08-2025

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Here are last night’s dreaming sequence. It is a little “bitty” and is in three parts.

The dream starts on a mediterranean-like island. I am walking along a trail with the wife. We are carrying rucksacks; it is sunny but not hot. We are on a cliff side path far below is an azure-blue sea. Ahead of us is a port town from which we aim to take a ferry to our next destination. In the middle distance we can see a rocky island with fertile splashes of green farming land. It is less cliffy but dominated by a peak which I know is a supposed extinct volcano. We start to have a drone’s eye view over the island. Small volcanic vents open up around the island venting first smoke and then the occasional pyrotechnic of red hot lava. The central volcano starts to smoke and vent too. We can hear the rumble of pre-eruption. It is pretty clear that the island is unsafe and that we will have to alter our plans. If the volcano blows the island will cease. We cannot go to that island yet.

I say that we need to find a hotel for the night. We walk into town as night falls and the nightlife starts up. There are bars and clubs. It is Greek. We find a large hotel on a central plaza. The wife thinks it too expensive but I know they like to fill all the rooms. I go to reception where the hotel manager / owner is. He is an oily man with yet black hair. I ask him for a room it is £50 per night. This he says is because the pool is out of order. I accept and ask what time breakfast is. The hotel is in need of TLC.

The dream fades.

I am now in a medical centre come hospital on another island which feels like Jersey but may not be it. I am in a waiting room with many others. My name is called and I am taken into a consulting room by a woman of similar age to me in a dark navy-blue nurse practitioner uniform. She does blood pressure measurements and listens to my chest. I gesture to her where I have had my chest hair shaved for a recent ECG. For some reason we both find this funny. She takes down some historical details. Then she gets an envelop out of her desk drawer. She proceeds to take a lock of my hair which is much longer than it is this morning. She places this in the envelope. She then proceeds to trim all my finger nails with scissors. Collecting the nails and placing them too in the envelope. I say that I hope she is not going to use these for voodoo or witchcraft on me because everyone knows that these are key ingredients. She says no, the samples are for DNA tests, the government wants to test my DNA to check if I am normal or not. I say to her that I have had a normal birth and not a different Nirmāṇakāya manifestation vehicle. It was not thought created. I came out of a womb. The DNA results should come back as entirely human.

Outside the hospital I go down a hill to where the ambulance entrance is. I see the nurse posting the envelope into a bright red old-school UK mail box. I wave at her, she waves back.

The dream fades.

I am now in a large metropolitan building which has been subdivided into a number of flats. The building has a common room area with a watercooler and seating. I am standing there when a tall man comes in. He is holding is mouth. He says that he has broken a tooth. I know he is Hungarian because we have been out for a few beers. I say that I can drive him to a dentist and explain how things work in England. I ask him to show me his EU health card. He does. I say show this at the dental clinic and they will reduce the amount you have to pay. We are joined by a young woman who has recently moved into the block. She is around mid-twenties and has jet black pig-tailed hair and is heavily made up. I know that she considers herself trendy.

I take the Hungarian to the dentist in my car and drop him off in reception I give him the number of my mobile ‘phone in case there is difficulty. Neither of us foresees any. He will have to wait for hours. I go back to the block of flats where I am some kind of custodian.

The young woman is still there in the communal rooms. She wants to go into town and asks me to accompany her. There is a mild sexual frisson from her part towards me which is completely unexpected by me. She takes my arm in hers and we walk out into the night. I am quasi-paternal.

It is very urban and under the yellow street lights she starts to tell me how she is trying to change. She has a lot of piercings and several large tattoos. She is of mixed race a real melting pot of nationalities but speaks pukka English, posh. She says that she is a warrior girl, that she is striving to be a warrior girl. In a London accent I ask if she means warrior gall or warrior gell, innit. This makes her laugh. My accent is unexpected.

I say to her that being a warrior is harder than she might imagine and that whatever her preconceptions are, they are wrong. I say to her that is a  good thing to aspire to be a “warrior gall”. This makes her happy and she tries to skip. I cannot. I look at her and we both laugh.

The dream fades.

“Job” Interview  – IP – Patents Dream 30-07-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 5 and 7 AM. I did not think I would go back to sleep but had this from which I awoke exhausted and grilled.

The dream starts in South West London, with a feel of Richmond Wimbledon etc.. I am with a younger man, mid-late thirties. He has bright blonde hair and is tall and slim. He is immaculately dressed in an English suit, overcoat and with expensive English shoes. He is smooth and accustomed to handling people. He is privately school educated and has a crisp posh accent. He has not seen much sun and is a pale indoors person from a high social class family, hence a part of the firm. He is skilled in meet and greet {think main character Pine in The Night Manager only better}. We are in his shared house and getting ready to go into town. There are two other men and one Serbian or Bosnian woman who live there. The hallway to the house has very small black and white tiles and the door is of a large ornate stained glass kind. The implication is that they all work together. They are all high functioning.

The woman is in the kitchen and opens the door out. Bibi our adopted stray cat runs out into the garden. We need to get the cat in because they are all returning to work. In the garden there is a golf style sand bunker. Bibi is in it and wants to play. I go over and sweep her up onto my shoulder as is customary and bring her back into the kitchen. The house is period with original features. It has an Aga over which is a wooden slats clothes dryer, raised by a pulley and cord. The kitchen is massive and decked out for cooking and entertaining. I let Bibi off my shoulder onto the kitchen table and say that I will be back later to drive her home. The woman speaks with an accent to the cat. She is also tall and lithe, gymnastic even. To an extent they are all humouring me as they have been told to do.

I go outside with the young man through a tiled entrance area from what once was the scullery up to street level. I comment that it is nice that all the original enamelled tiles remain. We are running a little behind schedule and we make our way to the ticket office of the over ground railway. The man in the ticket office hands me a small bundle of documents hand sized ~4 by 6 inches. In this is a cardboard “wallet” of yellowed colour and age. In it are old photos of the male side of my family some of whom are in their military uniform. He has gotten them out of records and I must give them to the blond man. The documents contain old out of circulation Sterling banknotes. I hand them to my “guide”.

He takes them and gets two old school train tickets for us. The man form the ticket office says that the next train is at 4:30.  We look at the clock it is nearly an hour to wait. He says that “they” are waiting for us upstairs.

We go up into a busy bar come waiting area. It is lively, there is a hubbub and people are drinking. At one end of the room there is a long rectangular table around which are sat a number of people, less than ten. They are all male ranging in age from mid-thirties to my age. Most of them are wearing suits. They are going to interview me for a “job”. The notion it is for a glass company like Pilkington. The whole things seems weird to me because I have made no job application. They are sort of “head hunting”. The “guide” ushers me to the head of the table and sits me down. The man in charge at the other end of the table welcomes me and says that they are going to ask me a few questions. There is a lot of interplay between panel members. I have a knowing that at least two people on the panel are from the security services, they are British. There is a possible third who says nothing but who had a distinctly American air. He is the only black person on the panel amidst the nondescript white men. He is focussed and attentive.

The chair asks me about patents. I say that I have three granted patents, two on Extreme Ultraviolet (EUV). He asks me how these were filed. I say that when were knocking the ideas of a company about I started the ball rolling by going to Kilburn and Strode to draw up the first patent application. I look to one of the men to my left. The penny drops I have met him before very briefly at Kilburn and Strode. He is a government patent attorney. I claim him and he says that yes, he was there, I too looked vaguely familiar. They want to know who I worked with at Kilburn and Strode. I can’t remember the name except that it was Welsh sounding and that he has gone on to be a senior partner. I suggest that they look him up on the internet. They take over the entertainment screen in the bar and give me some new fangled clicker to run the search. I do not know how to use it. This bemuses them. I say that I have never seen a device like this before. They are disappointed in me. The chair says why would I have used one of these things before.

One of the junior members of the panel asks me about my exam results. Somehow, he has a file about me open on his desk. It has my photo and multiple sheets of paper therein; it is about half a centimetre thick. He has withdrawn the file from records for this purpose. I say that I got four “A”s and four “B”s at “O” level and BCC at “A” level. He tuts unimpressed. I explain to him that this was before rampant grade inflation. He inquires what about the recent “E” grade. I say that I have no idea what he is talking about. I joke that it was my self-taught grade for computer science. One of the panel gestures for him to desist. He backs off.

One of the security people wants again to know whom I worked with at Kilburn & Strode. The name still escapes me. For some reason it is very important for the security guy. I say to him that I have a relatively recent patent grant for a patent entitled “Electric Field Induced Spontaneous Parametric Down Conversion” * . He really wants to know who I worked with all those years ago.

At the far end of the table there is a discussion, which I am not privy to, going on. It is very animated. I remain pretty unsure as to why I am there and what they could possibly want from me. I am incongruous in their company and the plush opulent bar like setting. I can feel that somehow it is important to them but I have no notion of why. It is tiring all that stress.

As I come to, I remember that it was Gwilym Roberts, all those years ago.

The dream ends

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* The full patent title is “Increasing the probability of generating entangled photon pairs using Electric Field Induced Spontaneous Parametric Down Conversion”.

From The Kilburn an Strode Web Site

Arguably the highest profile patent attorney in Europe, Gwilym Roberts advises clients on all aspects of the patent process including IP audit and capture, IP filing strategies and patent portfolio management techniques. He acts for a range of clients including individuals, SMEs, Universities, and spin outs through to multi-nationals and handles a broad and diverse range of cases before the UK Patent Office, EPO and WIPO.