Category: South – Unknown

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

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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.

Five Dreams With “Calligraphy” In…

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Sanskrit-Senzar- Messenger Dream 26th May 2014

I am standing in a column of light which is shining down on me. It comes from above. As the light shines on me it etches into my skin black tattoos, these form on my arms, my legs, my chest and my back. They are letters, words and phrases in Sanskrit and Senzar. The letters are in a black ink and cover pretty much my entire body much like the Bulletproof Monk. I carry these letters.

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Next, I am in a city landscape and everyone is going to a party at city hall. There is a concert on there and people are gathering. There is an ensemble playing, it is like the Academy of Ancient Music and the instruments are all original period pieces. They are up on stage. On the ground floor and in a “box” is Princess Anne.

By this time, I have told people about the tattoos and nobody believes me. There has been some press interest but the men with their 1950’s style newshound flash cameras have lost interest. This is because there is nothing to see. The party continues on undisturbed.

I now find myself in a department store which is old style. I am curled up on the floor near a counter wearing a grey long sleeved shirt. The shop people find me there and nudge me to get up. I get up and as I do so the sleeves of my shirt fall back to reveal a list of tattoos in Sanskrit, Senzar and Chinese. These are now in very vivid royal blue and the calligraphy is exquisite, it is almost moving and definitely alive and vivacious.

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The store staff are all bewildered by this and take me to a back office. In the foyer to this back office are two small Tibeto-Chinese figures. They are dressed in ceremonial costumes and approach me. They are dwarves and twins. I show them my forearms and they recognize the Sanskrit and Chinese characters; they guess that the others must be Senzar. The tattoos are now moving like a “stock ticker” scrolling across my arms. The dwarves are awestruck.

Whilst I am waiting for the store staff, I get bored and so leave the store, into a busy “New York” city street. It is raining heavily and my shirt gets wet through. It is clinging to me. I am wandering through the city in the rain with these vivid mobile, deep royal blue tattoos being the only coloured thing in a grey and black and white-grey world.

In the dream I know that I am carrying messages. I am by way of a messenger.

Later people gather around me and I show them my forearms. People now start to believe what I have told them before and all are astounded by the tattoos. I show church leaders and statesman. They are all stunned.

IIn the city the younger people are setting up to go to a house party. It is the usual thing and people are gathering to go to someone’s house. They are all too busy with partying. They do not realize that the “party” is at my house.

I am now on a roof and there is a stack of old billboard type advertisements. There are several of us and we are sorting them. There is one which reads Toltec 7-14 which we find and as we do this one of the phrases in Senzar lights up on my arm. It says “Toltec 7-14 New Book” in Senzar. I know its meaning. I know it is both a date and has the meaning of dreaming symbols {7= guidance and 14 = new knowledge}.

I awake with very strong sensations on and in my forearms and chest. These are very similar to when I had the visions of myself in Buddhist monks robes and tattoos in Sanskrit of inter alia “Om Mane Padme Hum” nearly a decade ago. I can feel the place where the dream tattoos were, particularly on my forearms.

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Megatron – Magic Dream 19-12-22

It was a dark and stormy night I had woken at 4:30 and listened to the storm. At one point I heard a persistent high pitched whine in my left ear only. It lasted more than ten seconds. I must have drifted off to sleep around 7 AM and according to the wife I was kicking about.

The dream is set in Australia. I arrive at a dockland area. There are two vast cranes which are stacked with cars like car transporters. They are lifting these up into the sky. I, slightly nervously, walk under them and into a space below a spacious bridge. There is a gathering of people there sat on the floor. There are mostly young and I understand it to be a science outreach event called the Megatron. Z and Y are there. I sit down outside the gathering proper and listen in.

Z, seated on the floor, is boasting about all the other events they have done including one in the prestigious Sydney docks, they managed to close off some famous street. He is telling the participants that they should count themselves lucky to be here and that all the others are zeros. I get up and walk over to him and clip him on the head. He drops a white glass plate which he is holding and it breaks when it hits the ground. I say that he is setting a very bad example telling the youngsters that other people are zeros. He gets up nervously and I make as if to clip him again. He avoids and I chase him slowly around the listening circle. Every time I feign to clip him, he cowers and avoids. I turn my back on him and walk to the bridge wall. There I pick up my cigarettes, my mobile ‘phone and my fishing rod. I know that he does not understand the true meaning of zero. I walk off and they are all surprised that I am leaving the event.

I walk towards a town centre. As I do this, I smoke a cigarette. I put the packet and my ‘phone in my back right hand pocket. The sensation of smoking in the dream is very realistic. After I finish smoking, I transfer my green fishing rod to my right hand.

As I am walking along the street, I notice a little boutique selling artefacts, these are pieces of tree branch decorated with mother of pearl and other seashells. Some of them function as windmills. They are very shiny and sparkly. A woman who runs the shop notices me looking at the shells and artefacts. I comment that they are highly unusual are very attractive. She says that there are more upstairs and would I like to come in. I put my fishing rod to lean against a wall. I follow her up a very tight spiral staircase carved out of an orange-brown wood. We arrive at a landing and there is a two door thigh high swing gate fashioned out of the same wood. She lifts up the latch and ushers me in. She closes the door behind me.

We go deeper into the building.  A young woman with dark hair arrives. This is my daughter Helen says the older woman. I say hello and she replies.

“Helen is trying to go to the Megatron and has applied. They have asked her to do a montage as an application. Would you look at it for us?”

“Sure”

Helen hands me her montage which is between two cardboard covers of an intense dark brown colour. There are many laves of paper. Her pictures and calligraphy are exquisite. Some of it written in a metallic gold ink, which is gold in colour but not of gold.

I am very impressed with what she has put together. I ask to see the letter outlining the task.

This letter is handwritten on dark purple paper. And sure enough the instructions are there. They look to have been written in two different hands. One by a woman and the last paragraph by a man.

I show this to the woman who at first disagrees and then agrees. The writing again is in a sloping italic “metallic” ink.

As this point a large semi-bald man comes through the wooden gate. He is wearing a brown camel hair coat and is larger than life in his presence. He comes over to me and shakes my hand. He is the father of Helen.

My eye is drawn to a farmyard scene make out of porcelain statues. There are deer, two piglets, a dog and a cow. As soon as he finished shaking my hand the scene animates and comes to life. I know it is magic. Two deer come over to greet the man and I offer them the back of my hand to smell, which they do. The piglets start squealing and running all over the place. They run over my feet. Everybody now has sparkly eyes.

The man asks If Helen’s application is good. I say to her that it is very good but not to tell them about her magic animals. 

The man asks If I will be at the Megatron. I say no and that now I am staying at Alice {Springs}.

He asks if I am going back there tonight.

“Yes.”

“Are you flying?”

“I will get there.”

I wish Helen luck and then go to leave.

The man says to be careful with the gate otherwise the piglets will escape.

I go out through the gate, closing it behind me. I go downstairs, pick up my fishing rod and walk out into the normal city street.

I am aware that this dream pertains to a tarot card.

Dream ends

From Wikipedia:

“Megatron is a fictional character and the main antagonist of the Transformers media franchise produced by American toy company Hasbro and Japanese toy company Takara Tomy. Megatron is the cruel and tyrannical leader of the Decepticons, a faction of sentient, war-mongering robotic lifeforms that seeks to conquer their home planet of Cybertron and the rest of the known universe. He serves as the archenemy of Optimus Prime, the leader of the rival Autobot faction. As with all Cybertronians, Megatron has the ability to transform between his robot form and various vehicles or weapons. His alternate modes have ranged from a Walther P38 handgun, a particle-beam weapon, a telescopic laser cannon, and a Cybertronian jet, depending on which continuity he is depicted in.

Megatron’s most consistent origin portrays him as having risen up from being an oppressed worker to a gladiatorial champion who took the legendary name of one of the original Thirteen Primes—Megatronus—as his own. He shortened his name when he became a political revolutionary who attempted to reform Cybertron’s corrupt governing body and called for an end to its decrepit caste system. As the mentor of the young Orion Pax, Megatron preached that freedom of self-determination was the right of all sentient beings. When Megatron grew corrupted by his power, Orion would utilize his teachings against him as Optimus Prime. In most incarnations, Megatron would eventually meet his demise at Optimus’ hands, only to later be resurrected as Galvatron.”

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Magic Fayre Dream 8-1-23

This is an extensive dreaming sequence whereby I woke up and then went back to sleep, re-entering the same dream.

I arrive at a middle size country mansion constructed in red bricks. There is a temporary car park roped of at a distance to the mansion and signage saying “Magic Fayre” pointing along the drive towards the mansion. The gardens are immaculate and it is a fine summer’s day. Many of the people are dressed for an English country garden party. I walk along to the entrance and wait in line.

When it is my turn to enter the gentleman on the door gives me a red plastic circular token with the number 16 printed upon it in raised yellow lettering. He says that I am getting a kind of VIP pass. All the other guests have pale yellow tokens with numbers starting at 200.

I go in and there are various exhibition style booths. At the first one there are two young women. Their stand is called “Modern Witchcraft”. On the stand there are examples of handicrafts and immaculate calligraphy. The two women are dressed in very smart stylish outfits without a trace of goth. They tell me that they are white witches and want to bring witchcraft into the 21st century. They are tired of the skanky image of witches and want to smarten it up. They say that the lost of art of spell calligraphy needs to be reborn and brought up to an impeccable level. I comment that I fully support what they are doing, the image needs to change. They beam with joy.

On the next stand there is a woman with long dark hair selling exotic candles of all shapes and sizes. Several of them are alight and the aroma is spiced and not unpleasant and manufactured like that of Yankee candles. It seems the woman has manged to make candles smell like exotic incense. I take the thumb and forefinger of my right hand and extinguish one candle between them. I am left with a light blue drop of oily liquid on my thumb. The drop is perfectly shaped. The woman claps her hands and says, “bravo”. She asks me to manually pleasure her which I do quietly beneath her table. She is wearing brown bikini bottoms which I push to one side.

I decide that I need to go back outside. There are a few people sat on the large stones which demarcate the drive. I find an empty one and take out an herbal marijuana joint which I spark up. A1 a man arrives and looks surprised to see me doing this. We chat briefly. The organiser of the event wearing a trilby and a beige suit comes over. He says that smoking weed is not allowed. I apologise. He says that I owe him a “sitting” in the basement if I can hack it. I agree to try.

I go back int the building and arrive at some demonstration area. There is a large head in a glass tank. The head is very much alive and the fluid which surrounds it is pulsating. He asks me to sit down on a chair at a distance from him and we tune into each other a little. Then he sends various articles towards me using telekinesis. The idea is that I must catch the objects with my hands. I manage to catch about 80% of the things he sends at me. The ones that I drop are all made of plastic. He notes this and thinks it funny that I cannot feel the plastic, whereas glass, metal and wood are easy for me to “pick up”. He is really happy and a sparkle appears in his one eye which is facing me.

He says to me in a booming telepathic voice, “you need to work with groups.”

I move on to the stairs and down into the basement. There is a well-lit library there with light wooden shelving and several librarians there. I know this library to be a library of white magic. I ask one of the librarians where to go for my “sitting”. She motions me to an armoured door in the corner of the room, in which there is a small glass window. She asks me to please close the door behind me until the “sitting” is over.

I go over to the door open it and walk through. I get my bearings and I am in a whitewashed medieval style cellar. I go back to the door close it and sit cross legged in the middle of the room. It very dark and quiet. The only light comes from the small window in the door. I start to meditate and close my eyes sinking in the darkness. Slowly a glowing rod of light appears. It is about 30cm long and less than 1cm wide. It is slowly alternating from white through pink to red and through pink back to white. I know that I cannot pick it up with my hands. So, I elevate it and bring it within my Anja centre. I absorb it and understand that I now have to radiate it out into the room. I do this for a fair time radiating a pinkish light into the otherwise dark cellar. I am aware that the librarian can see the pulsing glow. When I leave the room, the librarians are smiling I have fulfilled my task.

I come to

Next, I am outside the mansion again it is later towards the end of the afternoon. I am outside with A2 also a man.  We are standing near a rucksack on the floor. He says that he is changing his ways and is going to participate in a practise called Yeshe*-lam. I ask his if him if he knows what Yeshe means. He admits that he does not. I keep quiet. For some reason he is trying to impress me.

We go into the Magic Fayre. Several of the stands are closing up. At the back there is a table with three men in business suits going over some paperwork. I go over to ask them what they are doing. One of them says that they work for Samsung who have sponsored the event. I see that he has some accounts and joke that he should hide them from A2 who is an accountant. He plays as if to hide them. He asks me what I thought of the event. I say that it was well run, meticulously organised and very good. He comments that he is pleased that their investment has worked.

He says that he is going to work with lama Yeshe. I ask him how long he has been working with Tibetan Buddhism and the Bardo teachings. He comments intermittently. He takes one third of the year sabbatical to do this. He cannot work full on for Samsung and do Bardo at the same time, they do not mix well.

We go back outside to the ruck sack. Out of the corner of my eye I see two giant figures, one a mediaeval king {with crown} and the other some kind of knight they are over five metres tall and the same height as a big water tower. The king is fighting with the knight and is trying to kill him with a sword. They fall over knocking the tower to the ground. I motion to A2 to come with me into a stone built folly. Which he does.

Soon a number of larger figures come into the property. They start to fire arrows at us but I can deflect them with my mind.

I come to.

Next, I am outside my flat in North London. I know it is a bit of a mess. I open the door and on the floor in the corner of the room is sat an Indian “guru” in saffron robes and with long flowing grey hair. He smiles. I apologise for the mess. He says that it is of no import.

A2 turns up and says that he is hungry. I say that I have no food but that there are plenty of restaurants, nearby. I reel off the types of restaurant and we decide to go to a fish restaurant nearby. I say to the “guru” we will be back soon.

After we have eaten, I leave A2 at the restaurant and head back to the flat. When I open the door there is another “Indian” man sat on the floor meditating he is dressed in a 1950’s style suite with a black Muslim cap. He feels serene.

I come to.

I do drift back off but I can’t recall accurately what happens.

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*Yeshe (Tibetan: ཡེ་ཤེས་, Wylie: ye-shes, ZYPY: Yêxê) is a Tibetan term meaning wisdom and is analogous to jnana in Sanskrit.

The memory of this was prompted by one of the checkout ladies at the supermarket who has large witchy tattoos. There are quite a few women with tattoos like that around here.

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Tibetan Buddhist Search Committee Dream 29-04-23.

This dream was so out of the blue, unexpected.

The dream starts in the UK in England. I am hosting a personal development course in a country house with a large events room. We are sat in plenary in U-shape around the side of the high ceiling dance hall. It is ornate but now carpeted. A smartly dressed tall woman with a feint American accent and long blonde hair is speaking on a slightly raised wooden dais. She is using a long wooden pointer to point at a presentation she is making, which is running on a white screen.

It is time for a break before the final closing remarks and conference wrap up.

Everyone gets up for refreshments which are served in the antechamber. I walk through this into the back of the house which turns into a smaller building. This is where I have been living in the UK countryside. There is a wooden shed and outbuildings. I am checking on the content of these as we will be moving soon. Someone has started moving the items of furniture. I say to a woman there that she ought to have known better not to disturb my system. There is a symmetry to how I have fitted things in the shed. They only go in one way and must come out the reverse way. The passage to the shed is narrow and there is only one way to do this. I am slightly angry and the people are sheepish.

I return to the conference and it is over. Everyone has left, they are all people from my past in one sense. I have missed my chance to do the summing up and to thank the speaker. They have mostly left in embarrassment. The sense of embarrassment is strong and clear.

The speaker is now playing a video recording of semi-rural Tibet. The camera is running through the streets and I can see a large white and brown temple up on the hill. There are prayer flags and modern Tibetan people together with some more rustic “peasants”. I look at the woman and she has changed into an embroidered gold and red jacket over her novice nun robes. He hair is now short. I ask her about the video she says that it is of her people and that she has been working for them in making my acquaintance.

At this point a small party of people enter the room. They are all dressed in ceremonial Tibetan robes. These are very opulent. The embroidery is yellow, red, magenta, and saffron. It is ornate and slightly garish. There is a scent of incense accompanying them They are headed by a monk/abbot who is old and his right hand man who has jet black hair.  In the entourage there is a western woman with a round yellow-red embroidered cap over her bald head. I recognise her as someone whom I have met in this lifetime. I go up to her and say, “I know you”. She winks, smiles and says that yes, I do and that she had been sent to observe me. Amongst them is a tall athletic Tibetan man who moves with grace, poise and style. I point my finger into his chest. I say to him, “you are warrior and fighter.” He laughs and says yes. We can spar later using traditional Tibetan weapons to see what I remember.

Now into the back of the room furniture is being carried in by hand. I know it to be of a ceremonial nature and his has been carried from afar. My eyes are drawn to a very ornate chest with meticulous cabinet work. It is made in the shape of a Welsh dresser with an upper cupboard. The wood is highly polished, perhaps walnut. The detail of the closures is in gold.  It is a treasure and contained within it are relics. Although not visible to the naked eye, inscribed into the wood in “magic” lettering are some words in Tibetan script. The calligraphy is excellent and the downward strokes of the letters are longer and more artistic than is customary. They have been inscribed with flourish. There is a sense that the intense black calligraphy has been “burned” into the wood over the centuries and that only certain people can see it.

The carpet on the floor of the hall has been rolled back to reveal a parquet dance floor of some considerable sheen. Amongst the entourage I can hear gossiping. “It cannot be him; he is too coarse thickset and muscular.”

I hear this and whip off my shirt to reveal my muscular bare chest. I say that I will cooperate with whatever it is they must do. Take a look if you must. I am now wearing saffron yellow trousers, training pants, that are “elasticated” at the ankles. I start to do a forward splits on the floor to warm up. I say that given I am nearly sixty I am surprised that being that old I can still do that.

One of the woman in the entourage says to me that I am much older than that both in this lifetime and stretching way back. I am nearly 73 she says. I do the mental calculation that I must have been “born” in the early 1950s. She says, “we tried to wake you five years ago”. You have been “asleep” and we have been waiting.

I briefly wake up and then drift off.

I am at an oriental Temple scene with ponds and in an immaculate garden. At first pass I think Chinese and then know Japanese. There are people there with round black ceremonial hats and flowing Japanese robes. I am poured into the pond as very large and bright, shiny goldfish. I swim in the Temple ponds and in the dream, I know that my second Buddhist life was Japanese. These ponds are my home, where I swim.

I the return to the hall in the previous part of the dream and the warrior comes into the room carrying some odd looking Tibetan martial arts weapons. Which I recognise. Some of the monks are now seated and are reciting mantra whilst thumbing through their prayer beads.

I have a very strong visual image of two yellow-hat Tibetan monks in full colour sat on a rock up in the mountains playing their long Tibetan alpine horns. That image and the sound persists even now. I can “hear” the horns inside my mind. They are precursors to a ritual, setting the scene.

 I get up and greet the cat. I take my medication and put the coffee on. I sit down and start typing.

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Two Mysterious Letters Dream 29-8-23.

I had this dream full of portent around 5 AM this morning.

I go into a brightly lit bedroom which is empty. At the far side of the room there is something on the wall. The walls are off white in colour and have a French feel. I can see just below head height, two small envelopes pinned to the wall by a long fine pin with a small black plastic spherical head. The envelopes are old school letter envelopes about the size of my hand. One envelope is mostly behind the other. They are white and of high quality.

On the front envelope is written is a very curly and fine light blue italic ink the words “Happy Families”. I know instantly that this is ironic. The calligraphy is exquisite and I know that these letters contain secrets in the act of being revealed to me. I leave the letters attached to the wall until the time is right.

I instantly have a knowing that my mother was in contact with my ex-wife unbeknownst to me and deliberately behind my back, in secret.

There is a sense of time in that these revelations of two different types will unfold henceforth.

I awake for a loo break and then go back to the dream.

I wonder if they are anything to do with Mrs Taraud {Tarot} from whom we bought the house. I energetically check the bedroom we are currently in and the one which used to be her bedroom. There is no trace of envelope in either room.

I am now outside and in a sandstone wall I can see something red on the wall. I approach and it is two small keys on a keyring with a small plastic tag on a nail in the wall. The tag is about two inches long and one inch wide, it is bright red. The tag has a handwritten piece of white card. The writing is again in a light blue ink, is smudged and cannot be deciphered. I know that the keys are meant for me. They will help me unlock the secrets. I pick up the keys and put my finger through the small key ring and give the keys a twirl. They are light. I put the keys in my pocket.

As I leave that part of the dream, I note the double appearance of the number two and know that it pertains to something now destined to happen.

 A little later I am in a courtyard by an outdoor swimming pool. There is a puppy there of a very luxurious black colour. It comes over to me and bites my right hand in a firm manner which does not hurt. It will not let go. I place the fingers and thumb of my left hand around its jaw pressure point and squeeze. The puppy opens its mouth and lets go. It is having great fun and bounces about in the courtyard.

The dream ends.