Category: South – Unknown

Hokkaido – Golden Pins – Tibetan Phrases – Road Trip – Dream 07-02-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 4 and 8 AM.

The dream opens in Japan specifically Hokkaido. I am indoors in a hectic setting, a kind of big event hall. I am competing in a game which is part physical plane sprint racing and part abstract computer intelligence game. Each round is set off by a buzzer and the contestants have to make their way to the finish line within the context of the duality. In the booth next to me is a tall slim Japanese man. The buzzer sounds and the race begins. In both scenarios he just beats me. I come second in the race.

We both go over the left of the finish line in the computer world and in the thing which holds up the finish flag are the positional pins. We each select a tiny golden micro-pin which has the positional letter. My pin ends in a golden 2, his a golden 1. I place the pin in my shirt pocket on the left hand side of my chest. The race repeats several times and each time the result is the same. I soon have quite a collection of golden two pins in my shirt pocket. The “competition” finishes.

I am then walking through a busy brightly lit mall. I am in a food court in which various Japanese food outlets are selling street food. The atmosphere is pungent and very lively. The food on offer is highly coloured and from around the globe. I cannot decide. I walk over to a burger joint and a Japanese woman asks me what I would like. It is her job to serve me and be of assistance. She is very friendly, lively and with excellent English {UK}. I say that I would like a small burger and fries and for her to surprise me. She brings my food over together with a large bottle of top-end Japanese spring water. She sits next to me and helps me to eat.

I go back to my rooms; they are executive and above parr. I am unsure as to what to do next. I have no return flight. So, I start to look up flights from Sapporo to Queensland Australia. The Idea being that I land in Townsville or Brisbane and buy a second hand car to drive to the Isa {Mt Isa}.

I pause and take a stroll. Outside in the car park is my ex-wife. She is in a beat up camper van and I can hear her snoring. The van is a mess. I go back inside. She knocks on the door. I open it. She asks how I am coping with the water. Just fine. She says that she had problems getting served at the food court and did not like the tap water. I say that she probably had problems communicating. With the Japanese it is very important to listen. If you don’t listen carefully to what they say they consider you rude and vulgar. I say that listening was never one of her skills. I point to the bottle of top-end spring water on the side and say that she can take it back to her camper van, her brumby. This she does…

I hear the song from Men at Work, I come from the land down under, “travelling in a beat up brumby”.

I decide against going to Queensland.

Instead, I must take a road trip. I see in my minds eye a map showing Hokkaido and Sapporo with mainland Asia and Vladivostok. I know that I can easily get a boat to Vladivostok and that I could drive from there to Wiltshire. I resolve in the dream to look up a route on AA route planner when I get up. I know that I must go via Mongolia and that it will be a long trip.

Here is AA Router planner route Vladivostok to Calais. Distance ~ 8000 miles.

–

I start out on my route and part the way along in or near Mongolia I am given two white plaques of an irregular shape. Phonetically these plates speak in the dream. They say, “Mon yet {yat} Dzong” and “Sprul yet Tsaay” I can see the associated Tibetan script but cannot associate it directly with the phonetics.

The dream ends

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Sprul

The concept of tulpas has origins in the Buddhist nirmāṇakāya, translated in Tibetan as sprul-pa (སྤྲུལ་པ་): the earthly bodies that a buddha manifests in order to teach those who have not attained nirvana. The western understanding of tulpas was developed by twentieth-century European mystical explorers, who interpreted the idea independently of Buddhahood

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1) Trulku (in Tibetan: sprul sku) — Literally the “emanation body” of a buddha. In a Tibetan context, a trulku (often given the epithet rinpoché, “precious one”) denotes the chosen reincarnation of a lama of high spiritual stature. A trulku usually inherits his (or her) predecessor’s prestige, wealth, and institutional seat. Important trulku lineages include the Dalai and Panchen Lamas and the Karmapas, who originated the tradition in the thirteenth century

2) sprul sku (སྤྲུལ་སྐུ) (Tibetan; in Sanskrit: nirmāṇakāya) — (lit. “Emanation body”) — Within the compass of the formbody, the aspect of a buddha that appears for the sake of ordinary sentient beings. A single buddha may manifest multiple emanation bodies, which may be in human, animal, or inanimate form. The “historical Buddha” Śākyamuni is generally regarded as an emanation body. The Tibetan term for emanation body, trulku, is used to designate a deliberately reincarnated lama

Sprul

སྤྲུལ་ send forth an emanation; emanate; emanation

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Mon

མོན་

Bhutan; Mon, a district in Tibet

Mön

Mon. Name for lands to the south and southwest of Tibet

Dzong

Dzong (Tib. རྫོང་, Wyl. rdzong) — literally a ‘fortress’, the equivalent of a monastery in Bhutan.

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Le dzong du Bhoutan est un monastère-forteresse bouddhiste caractéristique du Bhoutan.

Les premiers dzongs furent construits dans le pays dès le XIIe siècle, mais leur âge d’or fut la première moitié du XVIIe siècle qui vit le renforcement défensif du pays par le shabdrung ou grand lama Ngawang Namgyal (1594-1651), l’unificateur du Bhoutan moderne.

Zambia – Father – Royal Family – Golden Orb – Dreams – Dream 05-02-2025

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This dream came as a series of sleep-wake cycles.

The dream opens in Kabwe Zambia. I have come to reclaim the body of my father who is lying in the “mines” medical facility. He is on a morgue trolley under a blanket. I have to sign a chit for his release so that he can be repatriated. Once I have done this, I can take him away in a wheelchair. I do this and wheel him around town for a last look, during this he appears to be conscious and interacting with the environment. Kabwe is much more metropolitan and modern than I remember. I take him back to the facility so that he can be shipped.

I have a sudden realization that I must get to Lusaka, so I go to the now modern train station. The train leaves at 40 minutes past the hour. I have just missed one. I go into a coffee shop / bar to try to arrange a hotel for when I arrive in Lusaka. Unusually for me I get out a smartphone and look for hotels. I find one. I ask the owner of the bar if she has heard of it. She a white woman with a slight Afrikaans, Cape Town, accent says yes. It is her sister who runs “Tuskers” an elephant themed hotel / restaurant near the train station in Lusaka. It is a sister hotel. I say that I like elephants.  She arranges a booking and offers me curry from the buffet in her bar.

I awake.

A Google search reveals that there is a Tuskers Hotel at Butungwa Street PO Box 80942, Kabwe 60100 Zambia. It is near the Big Tree Monument, and I have been in that hotel as a child when it had another name.

I drift off.

I catch the train to Lusaka. It is modern and there are loads of young people on their devices. I arrive at my hotel and get installed. Prince William the Prince of Wales is there, and he wants me to accompany him on his tour of schools in the area and then to go with him to the Okavango Delta. He has very fond memories of his time in Africa before he had too much responsibility and it all got so complex. William is hyper enthusiastic and gets a great reception at the schools. He asks my opinion on each establishment after we have visited. He brings excitement into their lives. It is uplifting.

I wake up

I drift back off.

I am now in the UK if feels west country maybe Gloucestershire. We are walking along a private path / road on an estate. It is tree lined, and autumnal. William is introducing me to Catherine and George. George is a little intense and kicking leaves. I say that I used to have the nickname George when I was a teenager. He then relaxes slightly. William explains that George has many questions which he would like to ask me. I say that I am happy to try to answer. Back in a drawing room of sorts George goes off and comes back with something in his hands.

He shows me an aspherical golden orb. It is about the size of a large potato and it is like an elongated, squashed sphere. There is an inlay in a darker coloured gold wrapping it in a cross bottom and top and all around the long “circumference”. It is clearly hollow and there is something inside. He asks me to take a look at it and hands it to me to inspect. I know that there are other artefacts in the series and that he is not telling me any background information.

I say that we need to think carefully about how we approach this. He nods.

I awake

I drift off

William, Catherine and I are now once again outside on the path. William tells me that Catherine is still fragile after her ordeal and that her mood fluctuates.  He says that she would like to talk with me about her dreams which have been plentiful. They are linked to George, and she senses they are of the same puzzle. I say to them that I would be very happy to talk about dreaming and dreams, subjects close to my heart. Catherine smiles and sighs in relief. William says that he is very happy for me to do this, in private, but I must undertake to keep him updated on a regular and thorough basis. This is because there are many things pertaining to royalty about which I am unaware. He is more concerned about Catherine than George, because of the blood, implied royal in George.

The dream ends and I think WTF.

School – Mess – Misunderstanding – Barefoot – NZ Farm Dream 29-01-2025

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This dream was from around 5 AM this morning.

The dream opens in a conference / sports facility which is shared by a female and a male fee-paying private schools. The schools are top end, and the facility is top notch but shared. There is both history and luxury. My team and I are clearing up after a successful course for teenagers from disturbed backgrounds. The course has gone well but our efforts to tidy are hindered by the incredible mess left by the previous users. Trays from the canteen are left partially washed, clogging up the sinks, the bins are full. Most of it is not our mess, but we need to clean it up to hand over to the next users. We struggle to get things sorted. The wife’s open heeled brown shoes have been left in different places. I get them together. It is late afternoon, and the new delegates are arriving. At last, the place is ship shaped, and Bristol fashioned.

The incoming users are a high-level international conference with many big cheeses from academia, government and business. We are just making our way to the school sleeping accommodation. Prof. T and several of his colleagues are entering the atrium as we leave. He comes over to me and congratulates me for being invited to this high-level conference. I explain to him that I have not been invited and nor am I participating. Those are not circles I walk in and I probably never will. He is surprised. I say that I have just done a course for a couple of dozen semi-delinquent teenagers. He does not get it. It does not fit his picture.

We head off to the accommodation blocks and fall tired onto the bed to sleep. It is a long drive back.  During the night I need a piss. There is for us, no ensuite. I will have to use the toilet block down the corridor. I wrap a towel around my waist and go to piss in a big metal urinal.

The scene changes and I am walking around a very muddy farm. I am wearing my combats and a white sports vest. I explore the farm enjoying the mud on my bare feet and through my toes. I know that the farm is a part of the school and conference complex. It provides fresh produce. I know that the whole thing is set in New Zealand.

As I turn the corner I am met by a Kiwi farmer. He asks what I am doing. I explain that I have just done a course at the school. He says that it is a bit strange to see me walking bare foot in all the mud and that it must hurt. I say that because I partially grew up in Oz and Southern Africa that it is normal for me. He turns to a mate and says that all bloody Aussies are nuts.

The dream ends.

Cats – Dogs – Alien Pods – Caduceus Dream 26 -01-2025

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This dream was from between 2 and 5 AM this morning.

The dream opens in Imperial College, South Kensington Campus. I am walking from Chemistry to the Sherfield building. On the first floor I pass a meeting area / café where people are sat around table having “important” meetings. I see a white sofa with vinyl / fake leather cushions. I pick up a white seat cushion and take it with me to a carpeted chill out area. There are many young people sat there on the thick pile carpet.

At the back of the room near the wall is a big sofa. I go and park my cushion there. On the sofa is sat a young black man with his black cat who has luxuriant fur and is wearing glasses. The cat greets me and nuzzles. The man has two other cats with him, making a total of three. He asks if I have cats. Yes, we have one.

I turn my back and he morphs into a large black and brown coon hound {image checked on Google} with him on the sofa is Rhodesian Ridgeback. The coon hound comes over to me, still seated and makes a fuss of me slobbering slightly. The cats have disappeared.

I get up and leave the building wearing no shoes only black woollen socks. I start to wark around South Kensington. In the sky I can see strange disturbances where pods materialise out of thin air and start to descend to slowly to earth, I know they are not of this planet.

I decide to go back into Sherfield to get my boots and lap top. In the dream I know that I might need them in the days to come. I put on my ankle length boots which have a three golden buckles to the outer side of each foot. The boots are pointy and made of high quality leather. My lap top is in a black carry case with a shoulder strap.

I continue my exploration of that part of London. I note multiple more pods arrive. As they materialise there is a temporary rip in space-time. There is no sound associated nor do I hear any landing.

I am now in a covered area open to the air. I am giving a talk to a small number of people al fresco. I am running a small video camera which is recording. It is capturing multiple materialisation events. Someone says that perhaps I should offer this to the BBC.

There is much consternation about the events happening and warnings are issued by the government. I find a small antique red covered book and am reading it. A man comes over and inspects. He says that it is a shame it is in disrepair. I offer it to him and he accepts as if it is a treasure. He will restore it.

The alien pods have started to cause people to float as if relatively gravity free. This means that I can fly without it causing comment. So, I start bouncing far off the ground for joy. I can see that R is heading a bit too swiftly back to earth so using telekinesis I slow his descent.

I decide that I need to go home and search for a tube station. I have been wandering and come across a Central Line station. The announcer warns that due to fuel shortages they are running a much reduced service. I know that I need to change to the Victoria Line to get home to South London, Brixton. I have not used the tube in decades.  A young woman takes pity on me and helps me find the appropriate station and to use the last ever coin operated ticket machine. The fare is three euros. I take three bright green euro coins out of my pocket in turn and pay for my ticket. Which arrives like an old-school paper bus ticket.

The young woman is going my way. I note that she is skinny and only wearing a white t-shirt. She is cold. I offer her my jacket, which she tries on. It is way too big. I suggest that she sits on my lap and that we both wear the jacket with two arms per sleeve. This will warm her up for the onward journey when we part ways. The tube arrive and heads East to the junction with the Victoria Line. The woman is sat on my lap and we share the jacket until I get off.

I arrive in Brixton. It is pitch black with reduced street lighting and the early hours of the morning. The market from Electric Avenue has spilled out onto the high street because there are no cars running. There is a kind of party atmosphere.

I walk through the market and climb the stairs to my apartment. I enter and close the white door. As a precaution I also slip across the white painted locking bolt. I sit down at the table and boot up my lap top.

I hear a knock at the door. I go closer. A voice says open up the door. I say who is it? It repeats just open the door. The voice is female.

Cautiously I open the door and standing there is a young woman holding an A4 sized porcelain upon which is painted a golden Caduceus superimposed on three intersecting circles such that the point where the snakes head meets the staff is at the centre of the three circles.  She hands me the porcelain and says, “this is yours”. I take the porcelain and it feels light and familiar in my hands. I can also feel it within me.

The dream ends.

House Renovation – Dead People – Dream Within a Dream 23-01-2025

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This dream was highly unusual firstly because it finished ~ 8 AM, which is late and secondly because of the utter vividness of the last segment. The wife said that I was thrashing about in bed before waking.

As usual I am aware that I am dreaming. We are having a terraced house renovated. It is one of the many Victorian houses in London. The wife and I are going to visit to see how things are going. The front door is wide open, so we knock, shout hello and go in. There are a few young decorators including a black man in overalls in the ground floor back and a young white woman in dungarees up a ladder. From her hair cut and demeanour I know that she is a butch lesbian. She has a roll up cigarette in her mouth and her hair is tied with a red kerchief. We ask how it is going and she says that the are pretty much on schedule.

The wife needs to get the tube to Wimbledon for work and I know we are in South London. As we go to leave the woman says to me, “as-salāmu ʿalaykum.” I say the same thing back and she says no I must say, “wa ʿalaykumu s-salām”. Which I do and we have a laugh. I say, “see you soon”. I know that she is not Muslim.

As we leave the property the wife is partially down the street. I call for her to stop. I am wearing black knee length riding boots. I take these off and put them in the pile of debris in the front “garden”. I catch up with the wife barefoot. We head off to the underground.

Later in the dream I return to the house around dusk. I can’t at first see it. Then I see a bright pastel blue two seater sofa in the bay window and bright royal blue walls. I know this to be the place. So again, I knock and shout hello before entering. The doors are unlocked. In the back room I find the black man he has finished for the day and his overalls are on the back of a chair. He is sat looking at something on the dresser. He has round wire rimmed spectacles on and I know that although he is decorating he is scholarly. We inspect an antique radio made out of finest wood veneer. It is playing a radio station. The wires are old school entwined pair. Slowly with a jeweller’s screw driver he lifts the top off so that we can look at the mechanism. Where I was expecting some valve amplification of signal someone has patched in a FET amplifier circuit. We both comment that this devalues the piece but both agree it is a thing of beauty. He asks me what the story of the house is.

I say that the previous owner lived here for around ninety years and before that his dad. The house has been in the family since construction. He has recently died.

At this moment an older man appears he is dressed in tweeds. He asks, “what did you say about my son?” I say that I did not know him personally but the rumour is that he was a very genteel and nice man. I know that I am talking to the ghost father of the previous owner. He shows me to a cupboard where there is a magnificent brass telescope and tripod for bird watching. I ask what the arrangement for picking up the keys is when the decorating is finished. He says that someone from the office will be in touch. I note a very feint hint of Afrikaans accent. I leave and go home.

Next, I awake with a start in a double bed with crisp linen sheets and a polished wooden frame in a dark antique wood. There is an antique dresser made to the same high standard and of the same dark wood (mahogany?). I am in the down stairs bedroom of the house. There is a window looking out onto the back “garden”. I know in the dream that I am dreaming the room and the bed. I must wake up so that I can get back to my normal bed. On the dresser are two highly unusual pill bottles. They are bright lurid purple with small white metallic bottle tops. I try to read the handwritten labels. I cannot discern clearly. The glass of the bottles is opaque. I wonder if I am supposed to take them in the dream. I decide not to.

In the room next which is now of large proportions I see the father and son dressed in a manner of the early part of the twentieth century looking at a large table with maps and charts on. There is an architectural drawing on an easel. The father is smoking an old style pipe and has a watch on a chain. They do not see me.

I go back to the bedroom to try to figure out what to do.

I lie down on the bed and something inside draws me to look at the window. I see a female face pressed against the window. I am utterly startled in the dream, shocked. I clasp my hands to my chest and say “fuck”.  The woman sees that she has startled me and apologises profusely. She gestures for me to open the back door. I do this and let her in. She says that she has not been in the house for a long time. She is dressed in a modest sized vintage bustle dress of a maroon colour. She says that she has come to observe what is going on. I note a South African accent. She says that back in the day her father had a roving eye and that they suspected he had a mistress in London. He used to travel regularly between home, the plantation, and London. She thinks it possible that her “brother” got the house instead of her. Implied is that the house owner is her half-brother by another woman.

The dream ends and I wake with a start. Where did that come from?

The first thought was of a reversionary property the wife has and what if someone has just died.

Korea Surveillance Dream 9-11-20

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Since I stopped smoking my dreaming has been different…

I am travelling on business to South Korea. I am staying at a nice hotel and I have a very formal and immaculately dressed woman working as an interpreter. We go out to view various businesses, a university and a technology park.

During this I keep seeing the flash of light reflecting off a telescopic sight. I note where they are and am aware that someone who is not my host is watching me. I am under surveillance by a trained marksman.

We go back to the hotel and into the dining room. The hotel staff are nervous because we are early, and dinner isn’t ready. I tell them not to worry I’ll take a beer in the bar. We meet a young American hippie like woman there who has just arrived. She comments that the Koreans need to chill out a bit.

It becomes obvious that my interpreter has been tasked with looking after me in whichever way is necessary. It is her job to make sure that I am very happy.

The next day we go out touring technology again. The marksman is there monitoring me. I drop down behind a bush and with my rifle sight I lock onto him. I can see right down his sight and into his eye. He can see the flash of light from my sight and knows that he has been rumbled. If I fired now my bullet would go into his eye.

The interpreter is mildly alarmed at what she has just observed in case I am upset. I explain to her that I know the surveillance man is not from her country and that if it continues, I will shoot him.

The next day we are out again, and I see the flash of the sight. I drop down prone on the floor and shoot a bullet through the sight. It is a low calibre bullet which shatters the sight but does not enter the eye of the marksman. It is warning enough.

In the dream I am aware that this surveillance is speaking about what is happening in real life, somebody has me under some kind of surveillance and that the people doing this are from my own country.

Dream ends.

Emmanuel Macron – Medical – Job – Teotihuacán – Dream 22-12-23 repost

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Here is this morning’s totally out of the blue dream.

The wife and I are staying in a temporary apartment. It is well finished and on an upper floor. It is in a city in a posh neighbourhood. There is a buzz on the intercom and I go to answer it.

“The car is here for you now, sir!”

I go downstairs and am driven to another posh looking building. It is of a Parisian style. I am ushered into a very elegant hall with highly veneered wooden panelling and elegant curtains. The style is palatial. I am standing there examining the beauty of the room.

In walks Emmanuel Macron. He is suited and booted. He walks over to me, shakes my hand, and puts his left arm on my shoulder. He speaks to me in English and ushers me through a disguised door in the panelling.

We are now in pitch black. I say that we need some light. A switch flicks. A bright white light comes on.

I can see that Macron has a large pair of callipers and is measuring the size of my head.

In front of me is a high technology medical examination room. There are an array of doctors wearing white coats. The head doctor says to the others that they must now assess every aspect of my physical health. They will need to know every detail including things like alcohol consumption and food preference. There is much muttering.

A tall smartly dressed older woman who is not a doctor comes over to me. The callipers have vanished. I can see from the way that she and Macron are interacting that they know each other well and he trusts her.

She asks me why I applied for the job as driver / adviser.

I say that I was not aware that I had.

She asks me if I think I could work with Macron.

I say that from what I have seen of him on the TV I like his character and approach so yes.

This seems to please Macron.

We are now standing by an immaculate piece of cabinet making. On it is a souvenir of Teotihuacán. The photo card has an image of all the temple complex buildings. Attached to each building is a precious or semi-precious stone.

Macron asks me who the best emperor of Teotihuacán was.

I say it has been wiped from my mind. There was a time when I was fascinated by all things South American. I knew them all.

He smiles and says that one of the perks of the job is that people give you interesting and thought provoking presents.

The medics have arranged a series of appointments for me.

A tall young woman with blonde hair in a pastel blue suit comes into the room. She goes over to the human resources woman. Apparently, the younger woman is to be my liaison.

Macron comes with me back to the apartment. Now the car is his limousine.

He comes up in the lift with me and opens the door to the apartment. He ushers me in. There is an understanding that we will meet again soon.

The wife is asleep on the couch under a blanket.

As the door closes, she wakes up.

I say to her that she is unlikely to believe what has just happened.

Dream ends.

Chameleon – Fire – Keys -Butterfly – Cousins Dream 11-12-2024

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This dream was between 4:55 AM and 6:30 AM it is followed by a less dreamy attempt to rejoin the dream.

The dream is set outdoors on some kind of patio. In front of me is a raised fire pit. It is made out of fired clay and is light terracotta in colour. The pit is a kind of hand-made grate with a quasi-oval ring of clay supported on pillars of clay about a foot tall. The idea is that there is great air circulation into the fire pit.

On the floor next to the pit is a large chameleon lizard. It is sandy-brown and about the size of my foot. I pick the lizard up lovingly with my hand and it comes willingly. I place the lizard in one side of the fire pit and it lies snug against the wall altering its colour slightly to blend in.

On the other side of the pit, I make a fire with pieces of wood. The fire blazes too quickly. I add more larger pieces of wood. The fire stabilizes and burns more quietly. The chameleon is unharmed.

In the fire pit I notice an old style wrap around key fob in brown leather. I cannot see if there are any keys in the fob or not. I pick the fob out of the pit and put it in my pocket. It feels heavy.

–

–

I continue to look at the fire and tend it.

My eyes are drawn to my right hand. I can see a black suit jacket sleeve with several buttons. Inside the sleeve is a buttoned white dress shirt. Both are incredibly crisp and well ironed. Out of the gap between shirt and jacket I extract, by encouragement with my left hand, a large hand sized pale yellow butterfly. The wings are in two segments so that you can see four segments. Its appearance is like a magic trick and there are flecks of gold in the yellow. It flies out of the sleeve and circles me several times

–

–

The butterfly flies off.

In one corner of the patio, I see two young women. One of them is light brown with a black Muslim head scarf. She is dressed in black. The other one is wearing white and is of European extraction.

The brown one asks me if I recognise them. She is flirty and cheeky.

No.

She says that they are my cousins and that she knows me. She says that I should have recognised them from Wales. We are related through Cristiaan’s wife from South Africa. She has a mild Afrikaans accent.

–

I wake and the wife tells me it is 6:30 AM when she gets back into bed.

–

I intend to rejoin the dream. I enter a sports hall wearing my bright red WRU t-shirt. As I do so the man running the gym says that Wales are not doing so well at rugby. I agree. I go into the bathroom to piss. I am in a cubicle and note that it opens out from the male changing room into the female one. I change cubicles. When I am finished, I wash my hands ritually.

Outside in the corridor I am seized by several men who have their hands on my arms. They are trying to pull me away and drag me with them. I use Ki to prevent them from shifting me. D is watching and he can see from my mudra-like hand positions that they have no chance of getting me to budge no matter how much effort they expend.

The scene changes and I am outside around a campfire with some middle aged women. They have asked me to cook my famous chicken and fish casserole for them. Despite this request they keep interfering with the way in which I am preparing the casserole. They keep trying to tell me what to do. I pick up a large slice of bacon which I tear with my bare hands to add flavour to the oil. They look shocked that I have used my bare hands. I explain that I washed them thoroughly earlier.

Dream ends.

Mistaken Identity – Jersey Arms – Dream 04-12-24

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Here is this morning’s dream after an unsettled night in which I came downstairs twice, once for biscuits and milk and then ~4 AM for some Rennies. This dream is from ~5 AM.

The dream starts in a communal office on an elevated floor in London. I am at an institution of education which is being visited by some dignitaries. There is a special meal put on for all the staff.

I have brought some broad beans and green beans from our garden to give to a colleague of mine. I say to him that I will put them in some water to soak so that they are good for him to take home. I make my way to the kitchenette area and fill a glass bowl with water. I place the beans in the bowl and go back to the office. I put the beans on his desk.

In walks a large boisterous woman with a small entourage. She is the head of department. She asks who is going to celebratory lunch given that everyone is invited. A number of people raise their hands. She turns to me. I explain that it is extremely unlikely that I would have subscribed to the invite list so I will not be going. They head off.

I am quite happy to go off campus to buy some lunch items.

The setting changes and I am in a wood approaching a gap in a dry-stone wall. Coming in the opposite direction is a taller version of Helen L. She is much younger than she would be now. In the dream I know her to be a Southerly Dreamer (she was assigned 19).  As I pass her, I say that there has been a mistake and that I have the same predilection as her, namely south. This brings an inordinate amount of joy. She smiles and we pass through the gap in the wall.

The scene is back in the office, and I make my way through the building to the staircase which leads down into the atrium and by passing through that out of the campus and into London. On the stairs I see a woman a bit younger than me coming up. She has a fluffy beige-brown jacket on. She has light brown/blonde wavy hair and is heavily made up with bright red lip-stick. She says that I remind her of Ant and Dec, a sort of collage. She says that we were getting on famously, implied snogging, in The Jersey Arms the other night. I say that I have no recollection. She insists that it is me. I say that I have never been to The Jersey Arms and that there is no such pub nearby. We cross each other on the stairs, both confused.

I am back in the office starting my foray for lunch again. I head towards the stairs. Now the clearance between the stairs and the ceiling is small. I have to lean very far back to descend. As I turn the corner onto a more open part of the stairs the same woman is there. She is similarly dressed. Again, she insists that we were getting it on and having a great time at The Jersey Arms. I say to the best of my knowledge I have never been to The Jersey Arms. She says that she will show the pub to me.

We leave and exit the campus into South Kensington. We walk down some of the grand streets which are being repaired and come to a sort of square around which are shops. I joke that I will probably be on CCTV. In the corner of the square is a tiny pub front with a sign saying The Jersey Arms. I know 100% that I have never seen that pub before nor been in it and that the woman has mistaken my identity. I do not recognise her.

Dream ends

On waking I put “Jersey Arms” into google and it comes up with multiple results for a pub in Middleton Stoney near Bicester. There are no Jersey Arms in Kensington

Impermanence and Complacency

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

I have had eight decent length dreams in October so far this year. I haven’t published them because recognisable individuals are in them. These are out of the blue as I haven’t spoken to/with them for well over a decade. I don’t really know what to make of them. They may be pointing at something going on in the “real” world.

In the Toltec tradition the “place” of dreams is the South. I spent quite a bit of my early life in the Southern Hemisphere and can get on well with Kiwis, Aussies and South Africans. I was a part of the itinerant barman subculture in London for a number of years. In the Toltec tradition people have a predilection for stalking of dreaming. I am the latter. Dreams can re-present possibilities in the web of life, a kind of aperture in space-time where events might manifest. These apertures do not stay open forever. They close and what once might have been possible ceases to be. Failure to act on the appropriate time scale makes things no longer possible.

I’ll make a statement, there is a tendency for arrogant people to be complacent and get caught napping.

One could argue we have seen this take place recently in the middle east, at 9/11 and Pearl Harbour. People who think themselves invulnerable, important and powerful can get surprises.

Impermanence as a concept is logical, nothing lasts forever. But people do not get it. To truly attain impermanence is to understand the eternal now. Impermanence lessens the manacles of clinging and attachment; it exemplifies the preciousness of time. Many imagine they have all the time in the world and are slow to get around to things which they prefer not to do. Timely action delayed reduces likelihood of positive outcome. Impermanence teaches appreciation and the fact we only borrow things for at most a lifetime.

People who work in universities need to be seen and heard in order to get promoted. They need to have measures of esteem; they need a web presence and various public metrics. They have a semi-permanent web footprint. Several ex-students of mine have commented to me that I am now hard to find on the internet. I was on Research Gate. They won’t give me an account now. I was on LinkedIn. I have no need to be seen, to be present. So, I can build up a profile, write a blog and then bin it. They are impermanent things. I do not cling; I have back-ups of text on the off chance I might need it again. People can imagine that one will want to remain in touch and contactable. They may be complacent about this. The nature of academia is that it is a large heavy slow moving object with momentum, it is not fluid nor are research funding mechanisms, the turn around time is quarterly at best. There are institutional and annual rhythms. If one is institutionalised life dances {slowly} to that beat. There is assumed a quasi-permanence.

It is perhaps non-standard to suggest that attainment of impermanence gives one a sense of urgency at the same time as detachment from outcome, specifically desired outcome. The land of “there is always tomorrow” runs out. The world of mañana means possibility and opportunity lost.

Carpe diem is interred in a mausoleum.

There is a saying attributed to Buddha; “The trouble is you think you have time.”

People spend their time unwisely and there is a lot of wasted time, escapism and avoidance.  Complacency about time is brought about by the illusion of permanence. “It will always be there tomorrow.”

There is vast global complacency about climate change because of the illusion of permanence. People do not get that our mode of living is subject to change and over the next decade it will become obvious. Instead of cooperating to reduce consumption the mantra of economic growth underpins jaded economic dogma. People indulge in petty vengeance games where hundreds of thousands of tonnes of high explosive munitions are detonated to get revenge by obliteration. How much energy and carbon dioxide has been released in Gaza, in Ukraine?

Has that cooled the climate?

I suspect that humanity could well be on its way to being shaken violently out of its complacency as the weather patterns get ever more extreme and chaotic. Humanity, especially in the rapacious West, has taken so very much for granted and for a long time.

Pride often comes before a fall.

Before long the aperture in space-time in which to meaningfully act on climate change will close. It has already started.