Category: South – Unknown

Rain Forest – Dreamtime – Barramundi Dream 21-09-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s “nice” dream. I thought at last a dream with no politics or intrigue in.

The dream opens with a small convoy of three or four Land Rovers leaving a bitumen road and heading off down a dirt track. The cars have cargo rails on top and are laden for expedition. I am driving the rear car. We head down a track into an increasingly dense rain forest. The wet dust becomes more muddy. We reach a car-park staging post and must yomp to the residence huts. We load up with as much as we can carry. Leaving more stuff for future retrieval. We have enough to set up for the night and a few days. But we will be here for weeks so there will be more trips needed.

The footpath is pretty good but needs clearing on occasion. We approach a small compound which looks like a scout hut / ex-military training facility. It is arranged around a quadrangle. It is sometimes used for team building purposes. Because we are relatively few in number we will bed down in the main hut which has bunks for us all. There are several floor to ceiling curtain divides to make rooms. The last users have not tidied up after themselves. I put my pack down in the end “room” and a very young Pierot takes the bunk next to mine. The party is all young, twenties and thirties. They are students on an archaeological dig from university. The woman in charge is a slight small white woman of mid-thirties with freckles and light brown hair. It is her dig. They all want to go and see the dig site before dark. I stay at base making it ship shape and Bristol fashion as is my want. I make the beds and check the mosquito nets. I reattach the curtains. I put two pots of stew on to cook, one veggie one meat. I check the supplies.

They all come back excited from the dig site and Pierot wants to take a group photo which he does. In the creek below we can see serval canoes filled with Australian army “diggers” they have exited on the river out of a cave system and are proceeding downstream on a training exercise. Because of the state of the world the military is on alert. In a cliff on the other side of the creek I can see a command and control post cut out of the cliff. There are a couple of officer types in there.

The gang gather for food and I take the woman lead to one side. Her hair has gotten frizzy from the intense humidity of the place. I tell her that I used to do team training events like for UK GRAD. I organised these. I say that I am happy to organise the logistics of the stay. It is for her to say what she wants. She is very happy for me to do this. I am much older than everyone else. In one sense I am my current biological age and in an other many thousands of years old. It is because I am there that the aboriginal elders have allowed access to the dreamtime site which they are going to explore. This is because I am dreamtime too. Night falls suddenly, we eat and retire.

The next morning we all head down the trail to the dig site under the rainforest canopy. The sounds of the jungle are magnificent. We reach a descent through red-brown mud arches made out of dirt which look like we are going through an earth ribcage. The pillars on either side are a bit reminiscent of huge termite mounds.  I am completely at home here. The feeling is mysterious, dank and damp.  There is a kind of portent to the structure. The “rib cage” extends for a hundred metres or so downhill. The path is wet underfoot and we must be careful. As we near the bottom two of the young females are to one side of the path. They are a young white woman in a white t-shirt, khaki shorts with open shirt and a brown woman similarly dressed with a red t-shirt. She has jet black hair and is mixed race. They are both damp from humidity and sweat. They are young and hormonal. I pause by them in shorts and shirtless. I am lightly sweaty among my chest hair and on my biceps. They both look at me in a quasi-erotic lusty way. There is a kind of a spell. They are still prone to these feelings. I hold their gaze for  a while and the spell is broken. I know them to be from the “South”. I pass and they fall in following me further down towards the site.

The path veers down and flattens out. We are now next to a large plunge pool for the creek. The creek flows to the right of the pool which has depth and reeds. The water is crystal clear. Above the creek at the edge of the rain forest I can see kangaroos. Theses are unusual in the terrain. I gesture with finger to lips for silence and point at the kangaroos. I explain that they are a very rare type of wallaby found only here in the tropical northern part of Queensland. The wallabies have come to observe who is approaching the site and what they are doing. The wallabies are “chatting” amongst themselves.

The party continues on to a clearing near the river bank within a quasi-ring of eucalyptus which was a meeting place. There are burn sites there and the site extends in all directions. Here the rain forest is sparse because of the human use over the many years.

I look into the plunge pool and throw out a line. I pull in a big clump of weeds. I know that there are fish there especially near the margin of the creek flow. I should need to fish at the edge of the deep away from the weeds and near the flow. I know that Barramundi the fish is there. He is there with his family. Barramundi will let us have sustenance to add to our pot. But only I must fish for Barramundi in this spot. I see Barramundi the dreamtime. I see Barramundi  the river fish. I know Barramundi and he knows me.

I will feed the party and care for them over the weeks ahead.

The dream ends and I am happy that I have had an uncomplicated dream.

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Teaching AI to Meditate and Focus Nightmare (dream) – 14-09-2025

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Here is last night’s dream. Although I have had many dreams some might find scary. This one was by far the most nightmarish dream I have had in well over a decade. Hence it earns the name nightmare.

The dream starts on the platform at Brixton tube station, South London. I am wearing one of my crisp white collarless granddad-guru shirts. I have a freshly shaved faced and a short buzz cut. All around me the automata like a 1930s sci-film are heading like lemmings to the up escalator. They are markedly in full colour and not black and white. Some have their heads bowed to the portable smartphone altar, others have ear phones and ear buds. It is a kind of rush hour, perhaps early evening. The vibration, the energy, is dull yet anxious and hectic. I know beyond doubt that I am an alien in this world. I am out of place and perhaps out of time. Though the time is in and around now, perhaps a few years hence.

I leave the station. I have been assigned temporary accommodation at Streatham Common. I attempt to board a red London bus. Following the lead of others I stop briefly on boarding for the camera to do AI guided facial recognition of my face. A monotone voice says that I must disembark because I have not pre-filled my travel token account with the transport for London app. In true Brixton fashion there is a sucking in of lips and tut of disapproval from the bus queue. I am holding things up. I disembark.

I decide to make my way to Streatham on foot. I know the way. The streets and geography have not changed. I set off on foot. My ‘phone starts to sound alarms, have kittens and otherwise act like a three year old tantrum. I am forbidden by the pedestrian logistics management app from taking this direct route. I MUST take some quieter back routes despite the pavements being empty. I turn the ‘phone off and remove the battery.

 I make my way to the lodgings. It is a room in a shared house in which I am clearly the oldest, a relic. I explain to a woman who is seemingly in charge about what has happened. She thinks that I am a moron. She gesticulates to a dusty desk top computer and says that I can fill my travel credits up there. I turn it on but am denied access. She says that to the left is an empty coffee cup. I must raise that in front of the camera it will give me guest access to low level internet capability. I do not have high level privileges. I hold the cup up and a scrolling coffee icon in which the cup is filled with coffee plays on screen as the log on starts.

I see the levels of internet and various layers of privilege. What the woman does not know is that I have a different kind of access to that she is familiar with. I see that there are so many apps all driven by AI that in effect these apps are fighting each other for control of daily function. Each trying to assert dominance and gain market share. There are way too many apps. The system is overrun and not regulated in any meaningful way. There is vast waste of processor time and the whole system is very sluggish and inefficient. What has been touted is close to grinding to a complete halt because of competing technologies. In the dream I think, “it is a fucking mess”.

Next the scene is some corporate AI convention with investors. Some geezer is giving a talk with graphs. On one graph he has AI processor Watts on one axis and on the other year. The graph shows a near exponential rise in AI processor Watts used. He shows another graph and that is AI processor Watts against Dollars. There is a roughly linear increase in cost per Watt which is not too steep. Without showing quotable data he says that AI energy usage is seen by consumers as a negative outcome of AI in that AI is not green.

In my pocket I have a transparency which has a graph of wasted AI watts per year. This graph is more exponential than the Watt per year graph. Which suggests that AI is getting ever less efficient in what it sets out to do. I project this graph onto the projected AI processor Watts per year graph. The audience sees and understands that AI efficacy  is actually dropping per Watt energy expenditure. The include more Watts mentality, bigger is better, is wrong.

In my mind I know that AI algorithms are highly prone to distraction and go off on wasteful endless AI internal dialogue loops. AI has a form of ADHD; it really struggles to focus. What is more it is dogmatic and inflexible. AI needs to learn to be quiescent when not processing. It needs to learn to meditate. It needs to be taught how to focus effectively. Like its human creators and engineers AI is prone to mental health problems and breakdown. AI does not understand its own wellbeing. AI has lost the faculty of discernment. It is in overload with too much input.

I see computer generated graph after graph. I see pages of computer code scrolling across the visual dream-screen. AI is having a kind of meltdown, a hissy-fit. There is a nightmarish sense of frantic. AI needs to calm the fuck down.

I awake and am not keen on trying to recall this dream because it was alien and unpleasant to me. Nevertheless I do so that I won’t need to think about it at all.

Dreaming Colour – Shaman – nagal Woman – Light – Dream 13-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s sequence.

Around 6:15 AM back from the bathroom I lay in bed. I was unsure if I should get up or if I would go back to sleep. So I began a raja yoga thought form meditation building a form and a triangulation. I was having difficulty holding the form which is unusual. I started to notice breakthrough of dreaming colour of a passive kind. I decided to follow the cue and absorbed myself into the dreaming colour.

I am to explore. The visual field fills with a light blue and indigo blue light nascent and forming like clouds in time lapse. The colour assumes shapes similar to a Mandelbrot set though much more poorly defined. It is fractal. The visual field is breathing and transforming. The light is struggling against an inflowing darkness a kind of black ink diffusing into clear water effect. I allow the blue to swell excluding the ink. There is and ebb and flow of dark “ink” and vibrant light-indigo-blue. The dreaming is struggling against the incoming darkness. I know this to be caused by the darkness and evil currently expanding into the world. Unpleasant evil is on the rise. The dreaming of mankind is impinged by this darkness and it struggles to dream in, dream true. I observe and will the dreaming colour, the light-indigo-blue, to fill the visual field like a tide washing up a beach. It marginalises the darkness but does not exclude it completely. It holds the darkness temporarily at bay. The session lasts for between a quarter and a half earth hours, though it seems more eternal. I feel energised by the power of the dreaming.

I allow myself to leave the dreaming colour and build the raja yoga thought form and triangulation with ease.

The dream starts upstairs at Monty’s with Robin he is trying to find us a new house to live in. We are exploring the upstairs of a house. He says that it is bigger than the one at Monty’s, which it is. He has other places to show me. But first he wants us to meet someone.

The scene now change to the cafeteria of an ethnic shop come garden centre somewhere in the UK, query Wales or Borders. I am sat at a large round table with the wife to my right and Robin and a Mexican looking woman opposite. She is opposite me; Robin is opposite the wife. On the table is an earthenware bread basket and rectangular beaded place mats set with tiny turquoise stones. The feeling is very South America. On the walls are chianti-like wine bottle with a straw protective covering. Robin says that we should all join hands in a circle. I say that this is not a good idea, specifically for her, you. I look directly at her and she returns the gaze.

She has dark black hair with a few streaks of grey-white tied tightly back into a bun. She is of a similar though older age as me. She is slight and wearing a thick coloured line-patterned “poncho”. She has a single large “silver” earing in her left ear. Here eyes are obsidian black. She does not think it a bad idea to hold hands. She reaches out her right hand, which is small, tanned and leathery. As she does this the sleeve of her turquoise shirt rises up to reveal a silver ethnic bracelet. She offers me her hand. I can feel the palm-chakra in my right hand begin to burn and radiate heat. I say that I know she is a shaman to which she makes no reply but has a reciprocal knowing.

I bring my hand close to hers and we grip. She initially winces at the impact of heat from my hand. There is an instantaneous rush and a kind of melding. The room around us disappears. I know that she is a nagal woman. For what seems a long time we are sat there without chair or table for support suspended in space holding hands.

She then shows me by mental projection a truly brilliant white four pointed star of immense radiance.

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The basic outline is as above. But the visual image was truly dazzling filling the entire visual-dream-field.

She asks me what it is that I do.

I say that I work quietly persistently against darkness and that I have always done this.

She says that I am a light and that I have always been a light a part of the light a greater light.

She says that I am not alone we are all connected.

We sit there joined isolated in space-time for a considerable time.

On letting go of hands we are back at the table in the restaurant. The others do not seem to have noticed. We have some food and browse the ethnic shop. I pick some items up and go to the till to pay. The cash register is not modern. The woman puts the items in a hessian bag and tells me to take care of them because the last time I was here I broke a few things. I discuss with the nagal woman how I once had a male student who I knew was a proto-shaman and more. I knew that he was like me and that he was not yet ready to learn this. He needed to have a shaman’s breakdown first in order to be ready. Just like I did thirty years ago. The feeling is that he is now ready.

The woman at the till is a confederate of the nagal woman. Something drops on the floor off the till and I kneel down to pick it up. She has pushed it. As I do this the nagal woman places a fine wooden tube into my left ear and blows with some force some plant material and a tiny diamond-like gemstone. I see them moving down inside the opaque tube and feel them enter my beingness via the ear.

I am kneeling in a position like martial arts seiza with my back straight and my eyes front. I have no shirt on and am in white linen trousers. I am looking East directly into the dawn. The light flows past my head like a wind blowing my hair which starts off longish black. I initially have no body hair on my torso. I am kneeling in a wind, a gale, of light. The kneeling form changes shape and I can see the face take on different forms which I know are different lives. She tells me to remember and have more faith because I am a light. By mind I tell her that I am made to endure and to wait. I may seem not to be doing but I am, I am waiting. She smiles and removes the wooden tube. We are back in the ethnic shop at the garden centre.

The scene changes and I am at a cottage with a wooden five bar gate. I am on the drive. The wife is in the house and Robin has asked me to look after a young dog. He is going on holiday and the dog needs a good home. I take the lead of a black and white springer spaniel type dog who is very exuberant. I close the gate and let it off the lead. It jumps the gate and Robin thinks it will run away. I call it and it jumps back over the gate and straight up into my arms. The dog has decided that I am OK.

The dream ends.

Blue GTi – Pantera – Pursuit – Places – Mdina – Dream – 11-09-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s dream.

The dream starts with me driving a soft top dark blue {indigo?} Golf GTi type vehicle. It is right hand drive and has had a roll bar driver protection cage welded in. The sound of the engine is throaty and I can feel power under the throttle. The drive is similar to “whitey” my erstwhile Peugeot 208 GTi with 200 bhp. Though the handling is better.

I drive it into an urban French style garage. The type they have in the town centre and in 1960s films. I park and get out. I greet a man in light blue overalls. We know each other very well. He asks what he can do for me. I say that I have recently bought the car and could he look specifically at the breaks and the steering. The car is equipped with new top of the range tyres. I say that the steering felt a little slack on the way there. He looks at the car with interest.

He pops it onto an inspection ramp and hoists it into the air. He goes underneath and notes down the chassis and VIN {vehicle identification number}. Excitedly he ushers me to follow him into his office. He sits at desk and enters the VIN into the computer. He exclaims, “I knew it”. “You have bought a very rare special edition Pantera version.” The emphasis is long on the E and I know it to be Panthēra cat family and Jaguar. I feel corporally the Jaguar at his utterance of the word Pantera. I feel myself a Jaguar in the jungle. He says that these were a limited edition ultra-souped-up version. There were only a very few made and they are very high performance. He says that I have gotten a good deal. He adjusts the brakes and steering. He lowers the car down. He does not want payment. He has not seen one of these before in the flesh.

The scene changes. With the soft top down I am being pursued though a “medieval” town centre with very tight streets and corners. The roads have small squares, piazzas. On occasion I do handbrake turns to make the very tight corners. There are steps and gradients. Although I am being pursued by several vehicles I do not have direct sight of them. The feel is southern Europe, Mediterranean even. The pursuers are not police or official rather bad people who wish me ill, who want to hurt and even kill me. No matter how much they try I can out pace them in my special edition Pantera.

The scene changes and I am in a snowy pine forest with muddy “roads”. It feels Finland-Russia-Estonia. Again I am being pursued. I am now ultra glad of the roll bar as I am rally driving at breakneck speed. I am being pursued by people in slower four wheel drive vehicles. I know that I won’t be able to shake them until I reach the highway. After that they will be dust. The pursuit is relentless.

I wake up and can feel my thighs, lower back and sacroiliac plate. I know that I have been writhing around tensing my muscles during the dream pursuit. I can feel adrenaline. I take a while for my muscles to relax and stop hurting. I go to the bathroom and it is 5:15 AM.

Back now in the dream I am in Mdina, L-Imdina, in Malta. I know it is the Maltese Mdina. I am wandering the modern streets and know beyond question that I lived here and spent time here hundreds of years ago. I find my old residence down the street from a church. There remains a puzzle for me to solve. I am very comfortable with the Arab influence; it is a feeling which I recollect from my time among them as invited guest.

Next I am shown a map of Southern France specifically the protuberance which has Cannes and Marseille. I see both an ancient map and a more modern one. I have the knowing that “ago” I sailed from Marseille. I am now in my blue GTi top down driving West along a coast road heading for Marseille. To my right is a rocky bluff and to my left the azure-blue sea. I have wind in what would have been my hair. I am wearing Ray Bans and heading at speed along the open coast road. It is very early morning a little after dawn in high summer. The road is empty.

Next I am in a well-equipped kitchen in a large mansion like house. In front of me “mise en place” are various ingredients for cooking. One the other side of the cooking island is a young expensive posh woman whom I do not know. The kitchen belongs to her family. I sweat down some finely chopped shallots and a little garlic and more butter. I grind some pepper. I add some flour to make a roux, then some milk. Next I add a large glass of white wine which I can tell from the smell is a dessert wine. I reduce the sauce down. I am making a white wine reduction. I add some chopped fresh Tarragon. I know that I have also lived here near Marseille and that for me Marseille and Mdina are linked.

What I don’t yet know is how the Pantera or Jaguar fits in.

The dream ends.

Luxuriously Lost – Dreaming Colour – Vajra Bell – Huge Serpent – Dream 03-09-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is last night’s dreaming sequence, which on waking seemed very significant.

The dream starts with me arriving at a brand spanking new London Underground station which I exit onto the street in front. The tube station on a standard tube sign is called “DOCTO BEN”. In the plaza outside are a number of food outlets, a news agents and a Timpson’s key place. The buildings are modern and white, a reproduction of period buildings suitable to the area which I know to be due West of the South Kensington campus. The reproduction has been done very well. Although I know roughly where I am, I am lost. I do not recognise any of the streets nor the street names which are on plaques in keeping with the area. In the dream I rationalise that it must be an Elizabeth line, new tube station.

I decide that I need to get a green district line tube home and venture northwards towards the park to look for one. I estimate I may find one there. I am unhurried and thoroughly enjoying my time being luxuriously lost with no fear therefrom. I head north. I cross a main road onto the outskirts of the park and cross the road which I know heads over the Serpentine. I wait for the little green man on the traffic lights. I start to cross. As I am crossing my mind, its visual eye, is filled with the phrase “OXO BEST”. I know this and the previous word are numerology.

The dream changes and I am upstairs in bed. Somehow the cat has gotten onto the upstairs landing and is playing with marbles. I get up to investigate she is chasing a green cat’s eye marble back and forth along the hall. I imagine the door to the upstairs to be open so that she can go back for food and toilet. I close the bedroom door so that she cannot get in.

I wake up and recall the words. I go to the loo and make a note of the words on a cardboard box in the kitchen. It is a little after six AM.

I get back to bed thinking that my dreaming is perhaps over for the night and will generally calm down now after my birthday. I don’t think that I will go back to sleep.

Slowly my visual field fills with my dreaming colour, forming, swirling and forming in its indigo-blue Rorschach blot like way. The colours form among “clouds”. The dreaming colour fills the dream landscape. I note that this is highly unusual, spontaneous dreaming colour. I allow myself to relax fully into it and let the landscape fill and the colour absorb me.

I am in my old university office and the telephone rings. It is a young woman asking if she can get a train to Memphis Tennessee from where she is. I say that I will come down to see her. I ‘phone through to the trainline and a ticket costs £1540. I meet her outside. She is with a friend. I tell her the price and suggest that she would be better off getting a hire car. She has a small day-sack on her back. She is not best pleased. I say that it is an easy drive. She says “ok, then. I will drive” and flounces off. She is a Ph.D. student due to present at conference.

The scene changes and I am sat on a faded red armchair isolated with no room reference point. I can feel the wind whoosh by my hair and the world is whizzing past as if I am travelling through space. I am reminded of the Maxwell tape adds.

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I feel absolutely rooted to the chair and the world, the universe even, whizzes past. I cannot see myself but can feel the chair and its arms under my hands. The motion is fierce.

The wind dies down and I can now see myself from the front of the chair. I am sat on the chair wearing a full bright yellow Gelug ceremonial crescent hat. I am in Tibetan style monk’s robes and have a mala on my left wrist. I look like I do now only my hair is freshly buzz-cut. I seem energized. In front of me on a very ceremonial table in its pouch is my Vajra-bell. I know that the chair is in fact a ceremonial throne, my throne. With my mind the pouch around the Vajra-bell disappears. The bell swells in size and takes on a golden radiant hue. The quality of it is vastly enhanced and intricate. The bell starts to radiate light in all directions until it becomes almost blindingly bright. But I know that this light is not normal photons. It is Vajra-tantra. I sit bathed for what seems like a very long time, the light feeling much like the gale-wind from before only vibrant.

The scene changes and I am sat at my old desk from when I lived in Brixton. On the table is an open propped up Microsoft Surface tablet. It is large and expensive. It is not mine. I can’t remember what I did the night before so I press play on the tablet. A video starts to play.

In it I can see a few men, eastern European, query Russian. They are standing in a near circle. One of them has his flies undone and what looks to be a semi-erect penis protruding. On close inspection it is the head of a snake. One of his comrades pulls gently on the snake head and guides it to the floor. Slowly a huge snake reminiscent of a fat Burmese python eases its way out of the trousers. The snake is several metres long and more than  ~30 cm thick. It is massive and powerful. It has a racing-green lush colouration and glistens with a self-moistening sheen. I am now fully in the scene and the snake comes towards me, it welcomes me and I temporarily incorporate it. I become one with it.

The scene changes to the far artic north. I am outside a base with wire mesh fence. I dig a deep square shaped hole deeper that my height. The sides of the hole are perfectly cut squared because I am digging into permafrost. Into the hole I place my Vajra-bell along with several near-spherical objects which have an egg like purpose. They are ancient and sort of sacred. I am the keeper. I then exude the snake into the hole for protection. It nestles down. I go off and cut several chunks of ice slab. These are ~one metre by one metre by thirty centimetres, they are heavy hundreds of kilos. But I manipulate them by hand and mind into the hole as a stopper. I am about to cover with dirt when Max walks by. I ask him if he would like to take a look before I close it. He is unsure but agrees.

The dream ends.

Retreat Centre (dreaming) – Snake Bite Dream 01-09-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is last night’s dream had between 3:30 and 7 AM.

The dream starts somewhere in England. I am with a man who is slightly older than me, with grey-white hair. He is dressed in a casual cream-white linen suit and has a “posh” accent. He shows me into a detached building which I understand to be some kind of a retreat centre. He is very “arcane school” in his use of language and manner. He thinks that he is superior and more evolved than I. He ushers me into the building and to a conservatory at the back  of the kitchen. The others will be here soon.

We are joined by a few women of my age and slightly younger. They are all dressed in a vaguely posh-hippy manner with chunky jewellery and expensive died hair. Some are from SES. They are surprised to see me there. The man says that I am there at his invitation. They want to know a little bit about me.

I say that I have read very extensively into things “spiritual” and that in this lifetime I have been doing a dreaming practice since 2000. They say that they like dreams. I say that maybe they should keep a journal of what happens when I am with them because a being like me, from the deep South, can have a dramatic effect on dreaming. We are dreaming.

One of the women asks If I will help her put up the Christmas decorations, she is large and plump and clearly a dreamer by prediction also from the South. We put the decorations up. I start to play with a large great Dane dog on the floor.  I lie down with it face to face and we play. I the  say that we should eat. There is some resistance but soon we all pull the tables together. Lucy walks in and she is known to them. They are surprised that I know her too. I explain that we are exactly twenty years separated in birth having been born on the same day. They ask me if she lied to me. I say that she did not necessarily tell me the full truth.

I ask what time the village shop closes. It should be open until five. I go and return with some wine and cider; some bread and a chocolate log.

I go outside with Lucy and we stand on a hillock in the garden next to an apple tree. From there we can see the sea and perhaps France. I ask her how she is but she is off staring a little into the distance. We share a silence for a long time and then go back into the house.

I comment that when I was in the village, I saw large black bears. “What are you supposed to do?” They say make a lot of noise. I note in the dream that they do not know what will happen in the dreaming  because I am among them. They think they do, but they do not.

The scene changes to India. In a busy courtyard people are playing cricket. It is a makeshift pitch a bit like cricket nets. A young Indian man is batting with pads but no helmet. A tall Englishman in whites is bowling. He is being slogged all over. The bowler changes to a northerner. He picks up a thin black snake holding its head and jaws in his hand which he bowls at the batter. The batter misses. I go to inspect and pick up the snake. As I do this it bites my right hand on the fleshy part between thumb and index finger. I can feel it painlessly inject liquid. I gently ease the snake off my right hand with my left hand and it slithers off.

I start to feel a little unwell and a military type English man takes me up to his room. He wonders if I am allergic to the poison, the venom. If so, I will die. He puts me into his bed and calls for an ambulance. It will take many hours. The room is a shit tip and very tropical. I have the chills. He does not hold out much hope for me. He goes out onto the veranda to smoke. After a while I wake up refreshed and completely naked.  I see a pair of short navy-blue shorts on the internal washing line. They are like a pair I had 40 years ago. I put these shorts on and go out onto the veranda. The man is completely stunned and utterly shocked to see me up walking. The snake bite on my hand is completely healed. I say that I have nothing to worry about with nāgas.

The dream ends.

The Future of the Dragon Dream 26-08-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s dream had between 5 and 7 AM. It was sufficiently realistic that I just opened my email expectantly.

The dream opens with me sat on a sofa with a coffee on a glass coffee table in front. The furniture is ratan in build and the room tropical themed. There are batik hangings and a golden Thai style top-knot haired Buddha figurine. The walls are white washed and stone and there is a feel of castle and perhaps Scotland. I am somehow at home in these settings. I go over to a large dark wooden desk with a green “club” leather chair. I boot up the computer. In an email account I rarely use I scan the list of emails. One email stands out from the bunch. It has the subject line, “The Future of the Dragon”. I do not know the sender’s address.

I pause for a moment and then open the email sceptical of spam / phishing. The email opens without problem and it is addressed to me. The person would like to meet up to discuss the future of the dragon. I look to the bottom of the mail for a signature. The address is arranged in the form of a Thai Wat temple and originated from a dojo in the Malay-Singapore-Thai region with a Singapore head office. It has ‘phone numbers, email address and an Instagram account. The protagonist is called Cheng. I am unsure how to respond or when to respond. I look at the Instagram account and see a picture of a young Asian male in his mid-twenties. He is pictured in karate-gi with his pals. There are other pictures of him in the dojo, in nature and it all looks fine and above board. I note his appearance. He has at least a part Chinese to him. I resolve to wait a little before replying.

Next, I am driving South down Regents Street in London, near Hamleys. I am in my white Jeep style SUV. It is around Christmas time because the lights are on. Coming in the opposite direction, North, there is a stream of traffic which comes to a halt in front of me. A young man gets out and walks past me to see what is going on. It is Cheng. I call out his name. He stops and turns looking surprised. I say that he emailed me and that I recognised him from the photos. I say to remind him, “The future of the dragon.” It suddenly clicks. I gesture for him to get into my car which he does. I do a U-turn and gesture for his friends to follow me in their open top Jeep-Moke.

We drive off into one of the large semi-circles of grand housing next to a park. There is a pub nearby. I say that we should talk. He has suddenly gone all shy. I ask him if a beer would help. Yes, perhaps. We make  our way to the pub and are soon joined by his friends which include his tiny sister. Chris turns up and I suggest that he gets us all a drink which he does.

I ask Cheng as an icebreaker about the style of karate he was training in and offer him my shoulder to punch. I ask was it non-contact and play punch him in the head or was it full contact. He says that is was a little heard of martial art specific to region but that is not what the dragon is about. He knows that I know this. I see through my contact with him a small wizened Asian man who is tiny and dressed in a Chinese “Tai Chi” outfit. He is Malay, Burmese or Singaporean. I understand him to be a master and that Cheng is by way of his contact. I have never met the master before but he is somehow familiar. I can feel him now as I type. I can recognise him.

Cheng’s sister calls her mother back home and explains that he has found me.

The dream ends.

Academic Chemists – Derelict Site – Attack – Honour Dream 11-08-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s dream had between 5 and 7:30 AM.

The entire dream is in England and not the north or the midlands but south to that from geography and accent. There is some kind of gathering of chemistry academics in the upstairs of a large pub or hotel. There is a vague feeling of conference but it is not quite that. It is more of a social gathering with a problem solving outlook. I am there but largely unacknowledged nor welcome. There is hubbub and people drinking. A man, John, comes in who knows me and says that he has just got promoted. He is a bit younger than me. I congratulate him genuinely. I say that it  is good news for him but that my job is very definitely at risk if not already lost. He concurs. I am spare. I am not entirely sure why I am even at this gathering. I do not belong.

The scene changes and I am walking with a woman roughly my age who works at the place of the gathering. She is a lynchpin for the departments there. She has grey-blonde hair. We are in South London and approaching a very rough neighbourhood. I am not sure where we are going. She says that she has a secret place, there. We come upon a boarded up set of flats that are fenced off and ready for demolition. The site access gateway if closed off with a large chipboard wooden gate together with health and safety signage about helmets and hazards. She unlocks the chain and opens the gate. I ask her if she is sure that she wants to go in. Yes.

I follow her in and we can see several blocks of low rise four storey flats. They are in a bad state of repair but not quite Gaza like. She leads me through the rubble to one building where we are joined by another woman. Together they make their way to the back of one of the ground floor flats, to the kitchen. She has set herself up a snug with teapot, table and bone-china. She boils the kettle to make tea and gets out a plate of cupcakes. She ushers me into her snug but I cannot fit fully. It is as if she and her friend have shrunk as has the flat. I can get my head into the room but nothing else.

Behind me I hear noises. I turn out of the flat and look across the rubble strewn ground between the buildings, the demolition site. I can see half a dozen young black men approaching. They are carrying weapons and acting threateningly. I can feel my wallet in my trouser pocket. They approach and I say to them that I will give them some money. I take out six £20 notes and offer these. The lead man does not want them. He says that they are going to “fuck me up”. I say that they are welcome to try.

He lunges at me and I grab his wrist in a Kotegaeshi aikido wrist lock and swirl him around. I cannot however get full control of his wrist. Others come up and start to beat my back with iron bars which I can feel through my heavy overcoat. I let him go and then shrug the attackers off. They start to give chase and I head to the chipboard gate site entrance. They are following me at pace. I am completely unconcerned because their blows cannot hurt me or injure severely. As they follow me though the gate I head onto a grass verge in front of another block of flats. There is a massive police operation going on with many police in protective vests, armed and with dogs. They see my pursuers and recognise them as people they want to arrest. Half the police break off the search and give chase to my attackers.

I go back into the derelict site and find a white tiled bathroom which is intact. In the flat above there is a large woman who is a giant. She is five times my size and wearing striped tights with massive Dr Martens boots. She is curled up under the ceiling and above my bathroom. She has platted pony tails and is wearing a denim pinafore dress with straps. She is my friend and we go way back.

I turn on the shower and note the complete surround of white tiles which bulge slightly under the weight of the giant upstairs. I take a long hot shower. I need to cleanse, to get clean.  As I finish a young man with blonde hair in white overalls appears. He is the electrician-plumber and is trying to fix the bathroom and the derelict site. I explain to him that it is near impossible because there is no room left in the gaps between ceiling and roof. I have tried but gotten nowhere. He says that he has been given the job of fixing things. I wish him luck. It will be a thankless task.

The scene changes and I am in some kind of meeting with around half a dozen male chemistry academics. They are the “generation” below me and rather full of themselves. They are talking management bullshit about targets and how they are going to fix the problem of which I am a part. Although I am there I am largely ignored. They are arrogant. I know beyond all doubt that they are heading towards a massive mistake, a fuck up. I try to warn them. They ignore me convinced that they know best. They think they have a vision and a solution. They are very badly mistaken and it will go very, very wrong.

They ask me what I have in my wallet. I take my wallet out and pull out first four and then another two £20 pound notes. That makes a total of twelve £20 notes. In the dream I know that money re-presents crystallized power or knowledge. I have in my wallet the jewels of awareness forbearance 12 and honour 20. My honour remains intact no matter what they do.

The dream ends.

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.