Category: Toltec

Five Dreams With “Calligraphy” In…

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

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.

Boy – Italy – Cash Machine – Satellite Dish – Cats – Birds – Rose – Wolf Dreams -18-03-2024.

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

The first dream starts with us welcoming a young boy into our house. He is sandy haired and with freckles. It is a French house with linear stairs and the boy is of French extraction.

He goes out for the day and when we come back, he has left us an ornamental plant and a bottle of milk on the stairs.

I say to him that this is now his home and he can place the milk in the refrigerator in the kitchens alongside ours.

I wake up for a loo break and learn that my wife has not yet slept.

I am in a garage around a yard of sorts where there are various units of an artisanal nature. I notice that from time to time a model car drives across the courtyard and into one of the units. The next time this happens it is a toy Mercedes. I follow the car into the unit and it tips over slightly spilling some cuboid white crystals onto the floor.

The remote driver comes in and he sees that I have seen the drugs spill from the toy car.

He comes over to me and I explain that I was a chemistry lecturer. I point him at one of my papers on carbazole. I know what the substance is.

The next day there is another delivery and I explain to him that I am not going to bust him to the cops because I used to do drugs, weed and ‘shrooms.

He is satisfied.

At this point a large minibus pulls up and collects the wife and I. Warren Gatland is driving and we are going South over the border into an important event in Italy. Not everyone has been invited. We drive for a number of hours. The sky clears to blue and the architecture becomes Italianate.  We arrive at a magnificent walled city reminiscent of Valetta. From our approach we can marvel at the buildings.

We get out and are sitting around on a piazza. Gatland asks what wine is best to have with pasta. He goes round and people in the group give various answers including Pinot Grigio. I say Cloudy Bay from New Zealand, a Southern hemisphere wine. He agrees that this is best.

We are the on some kind of boat in an underground canal system. Either side of the boat are exquisite carvings in white marble. I wonder out loud, “how many man hours went into the carving of that goat?” We enter a white vaulted and domed space with a jetty. We disembark and arrive at the lobby of a top notch posh Italian hotel. This where we will be staying and where the event is.

I ask at the front desk if there is a cash machine.

A grey haired man in a white jacket lifts up a wooden lid to reveal a cash machine. At first attempt I cannot get my CCF card into the slot. He asks me how much money I want. I reply £100. He says that that won’t last long here, things are expensive it will be gone in a flash. I put my CCF card in and type in my real world pin which contains 3 and 5.  I ask for £200. The card reader rejects my card. I then try my HSBC gold visa with the pin which adds to 23. I ask for £300. It too is declined.

I am mildly concerned that it is a posh affair and that I have no trousers which will fit me.

At this stage there are numerous very small kittens running over my hand with the machine and playing with me. Sat outstretched on the front desk is woman in a black outfit as per Sally Bowles in Cabaret. She is holding a cigarette in a black cigarette holder. She is feline. She wants me to pat her and play with her like I am doing with the kittens.

 I get up and the grey haired man and I climb up to the top floor of the hotel. It is in need of renovation. We are trying to fix the satellite dish which is the connection for the cash machine. We go out onto the roof. I manage to dislodge the satellite dish from its fixations. I tell that man that if he can get a signal finder instrument, I will be able to realign his dish for him so that it works.

We go down into one of the rooms on the top floor. It is a bit of a state with some graffiti. In the room are two red and green birds. They are long tailed and look like miniature parakeets.

I turn to the window in the room. I open it slightly and the birds come over to my hand. One sits on my left hand and the other on the window latch. I open the window further and both birds fly out.

In the sky formed of birds I can see the distinct outline of first the yellow rose of friendship and then a wolf in a howling posture. 

I am surprised by this. It is overtly Toltec.

Dream ends.

Only Two people In the World and Some Speculations

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

I have read a lot of so called New Age books and hardcore science. I did my Ph.D. at the same gaffe Michael Faraday did his research which has the highest per capita Nobel laureate density associated with it in the world. I did my degrees at a world top ten university {UCL} and subsequently taught at this year’s #2 {Imperial} according to QS university rankings. That is a pretty snazzy background.

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I have ~60 legit publications in the physical sciences literature.

And yet here I am getting some weird and wonderful dreams. I’ll speculate that if taken as a whole there is no modern accepted psychology / psychiatry which could account for them.

I’ll speculate that these dreams may be unique in scope and in content. Who else dreams of witches and high technology patents?

I have absorbed what might be called four schools of thought, modern science, Toltec Teachings, The Ageless Wisdom {Alice Bailey Djwhal Khul blue books} and elements of Hinayana, Mahayana, Zen and Vajrayana Buddhism.  

I approached this learning with an inquiring open mind, several kilos of salt for pinching but an ideation to practice and not scoff.

Only two people in this world have been exposed to the scope of my dreaming, the wife and me. One of the first things we ask of a morning is, “did you have any dreams?” There have been occasions when our dreams are fairly synchronised.  She has predicted things happening for me. Her dreams pertain more to time, whereas mine are “out there”.

In one school of thought I belong to the south, the place of dreams with a predilection for dreaming. My secondary predilection is philosophy.

I have always had a strong ability to construct abstract and complex visualisations, which I can animate in my consciousness.

I’ll speculate that I am kind of a melting pot, a cauldron if you like, in which these thought streams are synthesised into a whole.

I like using rhetorical questions, what is wrong with that?

Well people often mistake my questions for soul searching angst. I already have the “answers” {to my satisfaction}. The questions are meant to stimulate thought.

I am allergic to adamant assertion; it is a short cut away from thought and is behind much of the polarisation and cleavage in the world today. People die because others assert.

To expect others to be interested in an opus of dreams is likely to result in disappointment. The “not invented here syndrome” dominates the human psyche. And besides people need to make a living somehow.

Life for us is very simple and we live isolated on our compound with little contact to/with the outside world. This is in stark contrast when juxtaposed with the content of my passive nocturnal dreams….

Everyone is busy, caught up in their hectic FOMO dramas.  Only two people in the world are likely to be interested in this exercise of dream study … …

Royal Institution – Anál nathrach – Silver Bullet – Dream 27-01-2024

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

This dream is top end strange and perhaps re-presents an occult attack carried out on me.

The dream starts with a knowing that in group situations there is always one who lets the evil thoughts and emotions in. That person is usually of the number three and so it was in the past. The weak point for temptation is always the West and the people of that predilection.

It continues to a visual image of a building which I know to be The Royal Institution of Great Britain. Someone has gotten past security and is rampaging around the building. I quickly run about the building to see if it has the old back passages which only someone who lives there would know. It does not. I am with the pool of back office workers and secretaries. We close the door and lock it.

We hear a noise outside. A young blonde American woman who works for the CIA goes to look through the peep hole. The attacker looks back and she tries to stab it with a long pin. It does not work. She runs past me.

The door bursts open and the only partially human attacker comes in. I struggle with it physically. It is much stronger then me. It throws me around and rips a large radiator off the wall. I grab a small climbing ice pick off a desk. It presses me against the wall with the radiator and is starting to crush me. I start to hit its left hand with the ice pick stabbing it and drawing blood. The attacker does not seem to worry. I can see its right hand too and re-adjust to attack it. I can feel my ribs getting crushed.

I start to chant in deep voice getting ever deeper and stronger.

Anál nathrach,

orth’ bháis’s bethad,

do chél dénmha

 It is the charm of making.

I chant it over and over. Suddenly the radiator drops and the attacker is transformed into a shiny silver decorative candlestick. It is sparkly and there are dangly decorations. One of the ladies goes over to touch it. I tell her not to because it is evil which is still cooling down.

I am completely aware that I am dreaming and am somewhat surprised that I am chanting the charm of making in a dream.

I am now outside in a fenced park. I can see a large lithe man with silver grey hair and I know that the second wave of the attack is coming. He heads straight for me and we fight. Again, he is way stronger than me. I try to chant.

Anál nathrach,

orth’ bháis’s bethad,

do chél dénmha

This has little or no effect because I am nearly exhausted. I am defeated and he and his colleagues start to round everybody up. We are led off towards a small lake in which there is a pontoon. They have with them a young seer with brown curly hair who gives running commentary on the skills and origin of each of the people. Meanwhile the attacker is wiring himself up to the electricity grid. As I near the lake I start to chant again. Water is my element.

Anál nathrach,

orth’ bháis’s bethad,

do chél dénmha

A hand in the water lifts out what looks to be a paper scroll. I take it and it unfurls into a rectangular shield with a handle. I know this shield will protect me from the bolts which the attacker may send.

We find ourselves on the pontoon. He starts to transform into a boat in which to carry us off.

One of his crew shouts out that the sniper is coming.

I can see that this is true and that he is a nagal’s courier already known to me.

The scout says that they need to take the sniper seriously because he as large .6 calibre armour piercing rounds.  The main attacker regains humanoid shape.

He takes me with him in the general direction of the sniper. The sniper is loading his single shot rifle and taking pot shots. As we get very close. He goes to load the rifle and with his other hand lobs me a bullet which I catch.

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Whilst the attacker is focused on the sniper. I throw the bullet like a dart at him and it embeds in his chest. There is a sort of ripple in his fabric of the world. The bullet is stuck like a dart.

I wake up and take a visit to the bathroom. It is 7:17 AM.

I try to revisit the dream.

I am back to the scene where I throw the bullet. I can see that it has penetrated a little further into the attacker.

I can now see the face of the “real” human being causing the attack. The image is very clear and I can summon that to conscience now at will. The image changes to the back of his head. Where the cervical spine meets the cranium there is a fair sized yellow “X”. I know that all I have to do it project some energy here and his head will explode in real life. I send a little energy just to establish the connection but refrain from attack-defence. I will store the information should I need it later.

The scene changes and I am in the garden by the greenhouse.  I look towards plug hole corner the Northeast and I can see a brilliant rainbow which is reflected in the waters of the pond.

I wake up and think, “bloody hell that was a whopper”.

As a protective measure I visualize a full manifestation of Vajrapani in wrathful mode and “place” copies of him at various strategic points around the garden. I also reconstruct the reflective dome of indigo-blue around the house. Any magic will be reflected back at the source amplified.

My nagal {Nagual} Themed Dreams Collected

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In chronological order:

Ghurkha – Caduceus Dream 13-03-2011

I am somehow going around town spraying foam on people I walk with others, and this is for their protection.

I go into a shop. It is old and wooden there. A Ghurkha dressed in a kilt is there, he is talking with the shopkeeper.  I tell him that my dad used to work with the 7th army, specifically he was assigned to the Seventh Ghurkha Regiment.

I note the golden medal he is wearing. On it are a golden Caduceus and an image of a swastika. {the correct non-Nazi way round}. He had not seen the swastika before and is a little upset. I explain that I have a golden caduceus too. It is not with me today as it is being examined by another of his kind who is also looking at my Father’s will.

In real life my physical plane father did indeed work with Ghurkhas in the Malayan Emergency and as I have just found out 7th Gurkha Rifles was there at the same time.  He was given a Kukri by the Ghurkhas as a gift of honour. I remember it well. He was Second Lieutenant acting Captain in REME during his national service.  Because they believed in fate, he said that they had absolutely no fear and did crazy stuff full of courage. I did not know of the number of Ghurkha regiments until 10 minutes ago.

{This added text written in 2023}

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Trigonal Pyramids –Tricorn Hat – Splitting Dream 27-03-2011

I am returning from a flight and arrive at the airport. There is a sense of extensive travel. There is an image of Rob. He is splitting in two, he has two heads. In my hand I hold the “reflexis” cube. In which I see this. This cube is an “impossible” geometric object made up of two trigonal pyramids to make a cube, the top surface of which is highly reflective.

I am sharing a flat with Rob. A man comes to fix his stereo. He is giving attention to his valve amps. He says to me with a wink that my type of amplifier is better. I comment that I only had to change the valves once. Rob’s amp has an element of show whilst mine is more practical. The valves on my amp are glowing.

Later I am going for a meeting and arrive at Oxford Street. I notice Rob heading to UCL. He does not see me nor recognise me. I am wearing sunglasses. I try to talk with him. All roads lead to UCL.

Then in another world Rob has willed himself into the court. He is in every room at the same time. He is dressed as a jester with a three-pointed tricorn hat. In one room he is multi-coloured in and other room he is black and white to match the black and white tiled floor. It is only since he has been split that he can do this. They are waiting for me.

Outside as I approach there is a cat watching some hedgehogs and rabbits play on the lawn. The cat pounces on a hedgehog and gets a “thorn” in its paw. I help it and get the thorn out; I say to it that it is being silly. It then watches the rabbits and pounces on one. It has a small one in its mouth which it is going to eat. I note this and move off into the court.

The dream the repeats itself several times, especially the bit about the splitting, the “reflexis” cube and the image of the jester like figure in a tricorn hat.

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Triskélion La Maison Dieu Dream- 4-11- 2011

I am flying over landscape after landscape watching towers made of rough-hewn stone being struck by lightning. One after the other they are ruptured and destroyed. They are of all shapes and sizes, some tall and thin others, stout and medieval. The scenes continue to unfold against the backdrop of a dark stormy sky. It seems to go on for ages.

I am aware that this is Liberation Through the Power of Intent in Action. In the dream I call up the card La Maison Dieu to view and I start to write poetry on the subject of it. It is important that people understand La Maison Dieu.

The scene changes and I am now floating like Jason Borne on the sea. I am in a space with no walls. In front of me is a three legged “wheel”, shaped like a Triskelion or three-armed swastika. It is very definitely a “wheel”, and I am looking at the central part. I cannot see any circular part yet there is a strong feeling that it is somehow there.

The parts of the “spokes” closest to the “axle” are red in colour. The parts further away are made of gold. There is no axle, simply a hole where the axle might be.  The hole is circular.   I am willingly tied to the Triskelion. The wheel starts to rotate in space and I with it. As the rotation speeds up, I start to merge with the Triskelion. I become it and it me. Now I can not be seen only the red and gold Triskelion spinning at a tremendous pace. This starts to move off through Space and Time. I have become the cog in the wheel.

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Dream ends.  

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Battenburg – Synthesis – Configuration Dream 13-11-2011

Here is as excerpt from a much longer dream a so-called four pager.

There is a steep incline / cliff. I climb over the fence with my laptop and start to descend the cliff. The cliff starts to give way and I surf with it to the bottom. I am now in a dry riverbed. There is only a small amount of water. I follow the river under the motorway to a place where two rivers join. The is a black forest style house there. I go into the house. There is a fire burning on the hearth.

There is a small wooden chair. It has a solid back with two cut out shapes. I sit on the chair. It is someone else’s chair. I get up and sit on another chair. I put the other person’s chair up on a bed so that I can get a better look at it. As I do so I bang heads with whoever is on the chair. Slowly a cat materializes on the chair, and we start to have a conversation. There are a series of puzzles for me to solve in the house.

Out of the ceiling a construction comprising wooden squares suspended by string materializes forming a tunnel. I am to go up this tunnel. I start but because of the breadth of my shoulders I get temporarily stuck. At this point I can see a seminar where people are looking at a screen and there is an overhead projector projecting transparencies on the wall. People are sat around the table trying to understand the codes in the transparencies. I make my way to the back of the room and ask if the projector is in focus. The guy projecting adjusts the focus in and out. Those watching can’t solve the first riddle. I note that the first clue suddenly resolves into:

” SYNTHESIS”

We move on and a piece of Battenburg cake comprising four squares of yellow and pink appears.

It cuts itself into three equal sections roughly centred at the middle. I know that I am like the cake cut into three equal sections. This is my configuration.

I continue on, cognizant of the theme “needing to solve puzzles.“

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Dream ends.

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18 Flames – 17 Flames – Mossad Dream 31-1-21

Here is the first of last night’s dream which were had either side of a piece of very squally and stormy weather.

The dream is set in a hospital which is similar in feel to the one locally where I was admitted previously. I am sat up in a chair fully clothed and there is high technology medical apparatus around me. In the room are two young men in army fatigues and with weapons. They each have a western style assault rifle and a handgun in a holster. One of them has a circular close-fitting hat on and he has ginger coloured hair and freckles, the other is darker of complexion.

Suddenly out of the hat small blue flames, several inches in length start to burn in a circle round the man’s head. I count them and there are eighteen in total.  I know in the dream that this man is my nagal’s courier and he is reflecting for me the eighteen blue flames of my courage.

I turn to the other man, and he has blue flames arranged in a circle too. I count these and they are seventeen in number. In the dream I am surprised because he feels like a southerly stalker and should by rights be a woman. It strikes me as odd. So, I think that he must be my courier to the Scholar representing the other part of my predilection.

I take note of the numbers 18 and 17, the jewels courage and discrimination or discernment.

Into the room comes a male doctor and two female nurses. They are all wearing white coats. They are going to take samples from me. I ask if I can have some local anaesthetic, some lidocaine. They say that it is better that I do not. The man does something and then I am moved away to another room.

The nurses do not get a chance to take their samples.

I am now in a large room with a single large table in it. The nurses are with me. I say that they can take their samples now. I take off my shirt and lie on the large table. They take out their instruments and cut several pieces of flesh from my right side. I have raised my arm for them to do this and do not flinch. They put the samples into sample bottles which then then put into the pockets of their white coats. They leave the room. I sit up on the table and put my shirt back on, there is no blood.

The ginger haired man from before comes in. He is now wearing a security earpiece wire. He says that he is from Mossad and here to protect me. He is now also wearing a Kevlar chest shield and has a helmet in one hand and assault rifle in another. He says that there are seventeen of his colleagues, also from Mossad, around the perimeter to protect me and keep me safe. I have been brought here for my own protection and together with the seventeen colleagues he makes eighteen all of whom are to keep me safe and secure.

Dream ends.

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Nagal’s Courier Dream 2-2-22

This is the first very vivid dream that I have had in a long while and on a morning with a whole heap of 2s.

I am at a small fishing port walking along the harbour wall. In the near distance I see a dark-haired man leaning against a parked Ducati motorbike. He is wearing leathers. I know this man to be A, a dreaming nagal’s courier. I approach him and say hi. He is very sceptical and not-trusting.

I explain that I need to make him aware of some things because there has been a lot of misinformation floating around.  I say that when I stopped interacting closely with Théun my dreaming colour changed from indigo-purple to indigo-blue. The shade deepened and became much more vivid. I am certain that it meant that I was a second ray being an Elephant and not a Wolf. I ask him a metaphorical question, “How is your dreaming colour now?”

I explain that there is plenty of “evidence” from dreams and omens that I am a nagal being and not a Man of Action as Théun had suggested.  I had been trying this hypothesis on, as is my want. The dreams both mine and the wife’s suggest that I am doubly severed and therefore a three pronged nagal being. Indeed, I had a traumatic experience entirely consistent with the second severing. My secondary predilection is for the East and thus I am a philosophical nagal and radically different in approach to Théun. A second ray dreaming philosophical nagal is an altogether different beast.

I say that in my opinion there was a whole bunch of stupid shit going on back in the day. I say that I have said what I needed to say.

The dream ends.

This dream follows on from an earlier one in which I was verbalising the rule of the four-pronged nagal for a bunch of students.

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Himalaya Foothills Dream 19-06-23.

Before the dream started, I had a very persistent thought form in which I thought “humanity is no longer Darwinian”. This seed thought pointed to the fact that the process of natural selection has been inhibited by modern life. There is no longer exclusively a survival of the fittest. Lifeforms which would have died out survive and the evolution of the human species is stunted. People in the west do not currently have to fight to live, they can eke and survive.

The dream starts with me looking down at my bare feet they are on a concrete floor painted a very deep shade of red and I am wearing loose weave ethnic trousers, of a magenta shade. I can feel the cool floor under my feet. I am indoors and the refuge from the heat is welcome. I am sitting in a wicker chair on a white cushion. 

I stand up and leave my residence to go to the hotel / hostel which is downhill from me. I am in a small town on the side of deep ravine in the Himalayan foothills. I have been here for quite some time. I am at home. There are people milling about in the street. They are brown skinned with jet black hair and of slim stature. A couple of the children wave at me, they follow me down the street. There is a sense of accustomed play.

I get to the hotel and go up to the communal dining area. There people are making themselves a meal. It is all very ad hoc. I recognise some of them from London 20 odd years ago. Amongst them is Alexandros {nagal’s courier}. He is tall and has suffered badly from middle age spread. I motion to him and we go out into the small private garden. I ask him why he is here. He says that when I left ages ago, I told him that he should be sensible and keep safe. He has come with the others for me. We go back inside and there is an air of expectancy in the dining room. I leave.

I make my way back up the hill and try to cross a drain into a shaded porch area of an emporium serving tea. I struggle and nearly trip. A young Nepalese man (Gurkha?) grabs my arm and says, “you need to be more careful sahib.” I am a little surprise by his tone. He sits me down. It is clear that I am struggling to move and in some considerable physical pain. He says that we need to build up reserves because we are going to have to walk through the mountain pass at 3400 metres. It is a long way but we think that you can make it. The pass is to the North of the town in the dream. He says that he and his brother will be there with me all the way and that it is their job to guide and protect me. They have been assigned.

I step out onto what passes for the town square chiselled into the mountain side. I can smell the mountain air, rich and pungent from the plants on the mountainside. I can see the Himalaya massif resplendent in the morning light. It looks magnificent and formidable. Around the square a couple of light brown skinny dogs are playing in the shade of a tree.

To the side of the square is a small open stone wall. There are stones on top of short pillars. I go to sit on the wall and the Nepalese man comes and sits next to me. Down in the valley on a road winding up to the town there are several people and loaded pack donkeys. They are making their way; they are European and are assisted by locals. I recognise some of the Europeans. I ask the guide, “why are they coming here?” He says that “of course they have come to see you sahib. There will be others too.”

Dream ends.  

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Rule of the Four Pronged nagal – Numerology Dream 17-08-23

Just because there was not enough weirdness already here is this morning’s dream.

The dream opens with a quintessential English village fete set in a green and sloping park. The park has trees around the circumference and is lushly grassed. There are stalls selling produce, a Tombola stand, a Pimm’s tent, bric-a-brac and an inflatable play area for the children. There is a small crowd of English people at the event. The atmosphere is summer and nice. Everyone is relaxed and there is a nice hubbub.

At the corner of one stand, I notice a talk young man with dark hair who resembles A whom I know to be a nagal’s courier. I go over to him to say hello. I say that I need to tell him about the rule of the four pronged nagal. He already knows that he is a nagal’s courier. He says that only nagals should narrate the rule. He doubts that I am nagal. His jewel is 20, honour.

I walk to the side of the fete near the trees. I hold his attention with my eyes. I run down the slope and take off flying down the slope and then back up to close to hum. He says, “that was stupid, everyone could see you!” I motion to the crowd they are going about their business as usual. I say that the display was only for him and his eyes. He says, “OK. I’ll buy it you are nagal.”

We head off into a European piazza, Italianate in character. There is much buzz. We head off into a taverna which is busy. There sat on a table is a middle aged balding ginger man. He is entertaining his table with stories. He does not look entirely well. I say to the nagal’s courier that he is a Man of Action. He replies that I should go and tell him. I say that it must be action. I take the courier down into the basement of the taverna and find the electricity distribution box. There are many fuses and interrupters. I flip the switches. The tavern and the basement are plunged into darkness. There is unease upstairs. I hear the Man of Action strike his Zippo lighter. He says, “don’t worry it was probably a fuse. I will go and investigate.” He comes down in the basement and sees us. He turns the electricity back on. We all leave the taverna together. His jewel is 6, choosing between the old and the new.

Now it is nighttime and we go into a basement nightclub. It is dark and smoky. It has seen better days and is seedy. On the stage is a cabaret. We sit at a table and order some drinks. On the table next to us an older man is being entertained by a hostess who is pouring him drinks and flattering him. She is a tiny black woman with an amazing architectural hairdo. She is wearing a skimpy red dress which reveals her athletic shoulders. From the way she moves to the bar she is lithe and a dancer. She is sat very close to me. I suggest to her without words that she must come with us. She looks over. We get up and leave the club, she follows. She says that she must get some things. So, we follow her into a catacomb where she lives. We go into a gothic chamber and she fills a holdall with clothes. I say to her that she is “bat-shit crazy” because there are bats flying about. She yes, literally. Her jewel is 5 need for freedom and change. She is as Westerly stalker.   

We are now above ground in daylight. We go to a suburb near the sea, where there are three storied wooden houses of a classical Boston marine style. The place is ultra-tidy and serene. I select one house and go up the stairs. I pull the bell rope and a man in navy-blue shorts and a white polo answers the door. His short hair is immaculately cut and the creases in his polo are razor sharp. One the back of his polo is the number 2. He says, “hi we have been expecting you. Do come in.” He ushers us into a bright well lit kitchen with a blue and white nautical theme.

“I’ll just call my brother, my twin, we always do everything as a pair!”

His brother comes down and joins us in the kitchen. They are identically dressed. They stand with their backs to a white porcelain sink and ask us in unison, what would we like for breakfast. Their jewel is 2. They are couriers to the female East. I note in the dream that a pair of twos is a double whammy omen. Two is the need for humility and understanding or a hint of destiny. Given the context I favour the latter.

The flow of the dream goes South-North-West-East which I understand to be the flow of power, which is in the act of manifesting, that is one the verge of coming into manifestation. It is on the cusp of the dream.

Dream ends.  

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Berne – nagal’s Insignia Dream – 27-04-24

I slept until 5:22 AM. This dream came upon going back to sleep.

I find myself in a seminar room sat in a partial circle of chairs without tables. Someone is giving a spectroscopy seminar on the screen. It is about some work being done at a German university. When the seminar is over, I go over to Sam and comment that it was a very nice piece of work to which he concurs. I know I am in Berne, Switzerland.

There is a short pause and the seminar reconvenes. I am wearing a blue-grey jacket much like the one I used to have. To this I pin my nagal’s insignia. I take it out of my pocket and pin it to my right lapel.

It is getting late. I have nowhere to stay. But I am pretty sure than I can get a hotel room on my credit card. I leave the seminar room and walk off into the Berne night.

I wake up noting that it is very unusual to have a dream with the insignia in. And wonder if it means that I need to be more proximal to one of the planetary centres, namely Geneva. I note that I have also spent time in London, Tokyo and fleetingly New York. I decide to try to return to the dream. Geneva is the francophone centre.

I am now in some shared house with a “Rayburn” style of heater. The pipes are all transparent made of glass. We are changing the thermostat setting and this causes the water levels in the pipes to change. I comment that it is a good idea to have these pipes transparent because one can see what is going on.

I then move into an office building. I meet the secretary which Sam had. I think about asking her if she likes dreams. I change my mind and say to her that I have something to tell her and Sam in private, namely the dream.

I move into an office full of Ph.D. students. I ask them where the post doc office is. They point me. I go in and it is full of people a few of whom are known to me. I ask where I am supposed to sit. Alan F sheepishly points me to a chair/desk in the corner. I sit down.

I say that because of the number of post docs Sam must be doing well.

One of the women, a senior post doc, asks in an American accent, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

To which I reply that I am slightly surprised too.

She says that everyone gossiped and ridiculed me after I left last time. I reply that I know because Wolfgang told me and that he was not happy with the behaviours of people towards me because I had been nice to him.

Sat around the table each of us have a grey carton.

“Today we are having oysters, huitres”, says one of the post docs.

“Not for me thanks I don’t like them”, I reply.

“Why?”

“They feel like catarrh from a bad head cold, a viral infection.”

“Can we get you anything else?”

“Just a glass of water please.”

“Won’t you feel left out?”

“No. Since the last time I was here I have done extensive meditation and am quite Zen abut most things.”

In front of me is a lab book and a fountain pen.

The pen is their “gift” to me.

I go to take the lid off the pen and try to use it. It is booby trapped and I get ink all over my hand and my mouth. I dip a tissue in the water and wash my hands with it.

“It looks like I will need to use a pencil instead of a fountain pen to write.”

 There is a titter in the office.

I turn to use a computer and reflected on the screen I can see them reloading the pen.

I tell them that I am seeing them do this and that I am not a fool. I walk over to the main culprit. I place my left thumb firmly into the nerve point between his right thumb and forefinger and squeeze his hand. He drops the pen and grimaces in pain.

I explain that I am now 100kg because I have been working a garden.

They joke that British gardens are small.

I say that I have been living in France with a garden of more than an acre.

I say, « je peux parler Français ».

I do this is a very poor accent.

I go back to my accommodation. I note that I still have not written my dream and that this mocking “welcome” is a generic thing.

The next morning, I put on my grey camouflage trousers and vest. I attach the insignia to a piece of smooth string and pop it around my neck. It rests just under the top on the singlet in my chest hair.

I go into town towards the office. The woman and two other postdocs are at a cross roads.

We exchange, “morning”.

They are about to mock me for dressing as a soldier. I lift the insignia out of my vest to show them, knowing that in so doing I am making a powerful occult statement which they do not understand.

Dream ends.

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Sanskrit-Senzar- Messenger Dream 26th May 2014

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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.

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.

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.

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In 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 monk’s 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.

Explaining Kabbalah Dream 14-06-23

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« La Kabbale (de l’hébreu קבלה Qabbala « réception », forme anglicisée écrite plutôt Cabbale ou Qabale en français) est une tradition ésotérique du judaïsme, traditionnellement présentée comme la « Loi orale et secrète » donnée par YHWH à Moïse sur le mont Sinaï, en même temps que la « Loi écrite et publique » (la Torah). Elle trouve sa source dans les courants mystiques du judaïsme synagogal antique. »

Here is this morning’s dream. I should preface this with the statement that I have studied kabbalah from various published texts but with a background of someone skilled in the art of molecular group theory, symmetry, an open mind, and institutional understanding. I will add a few footnotes at the end. In no way do I see this, kabbalah, as satanic, nor is it some groovy thing a pop star might get a tattoo of.

The dream starts in the Department of Chemistry of Imperial College, South Kensington. I am in the fourth floor secretarial offices with Alan B. He is as I remember him but aged slightly and he is wearing a yarmulke on his head. This is surprising to me for although I knew his background, I never saw him thus attired.

He is standing by the printer waiting for a document to arrive. I greet him and he comments that the print queue must be long. Slowly out of the printer a sheet of A3 paper comes out and on it there is a kabbalistic otz chiim or eitz chaim. I glance at it and point out the common mistake which is deliberate in much of the published “work”. He says that he did not know that I knew about kabbalah.

I say that I have looked into it a little and see it as a model for the manifestation of the universe and how an idea or thought form comes into being, from before a germ of an idea.

I draw his attention to ein, ein soph and ein soph aur and explain that this is “deity” unmanifest often call God transcendent and this is a guess for what lies beyond the veil. An attempt of the seers of old to verbalise what they could not see. I point at the top trinity above da’ath and say that this is God imminent or that first part of deity which is, present participle, manifesting, in manifestation.

I say that the veil represents that which is in the very initial act of manifesting, that which is neither unmanifest or manifest. It represents the cusp of beingness, the as yet non nascent dream of existence.

He looks taken aback and says that he thought that kabbalah was pretty much a Jewish thing. I explain that yes that is where it was first started and that it goes way back. He points to da’ath on the tree.

I explain to him that herein lies the crux, because beyond {above} this we are dealing with models of deity which must be by way of conjecture. Whilst human I believe it difficult to conceptualise such states of awareness. In many ways da’ath encapsulates the mystery of beingness in that one cannot see beyond form whilst in form. The model of a triangle is reflected here with the apex of the triangle pointing up instead of down. Da’ath is a kind of lower reflection of the veil of existence.

Alan looks a little freaked.

The dream ends….

* Whilst working in pastoral care a student who had been on holiday at a rabbinical kabbalistic kibbutz had a big discussion on kabbalah with me and saw fit to give me a book on the subject. She was astounded that I could discuss such matters with her. 

*There is a Toltec interpretation of “Jacob’s ladder” the lightning strike of manifestation too.

The Waking Dream and Visions – Hallucination?

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Modern psychology might have strict views as to the nature of reality. It rests firmly in the “common” sociopolitical construct and uses frameworks like self-image. Deviation from normal becomes an illness or disorder. Having a vision could be seen as a hallucination, something not real. Yet visions and religion are entwined, entangled even. There is a disconnect where psychology might see “religious” vision as psychosis, prophets could be deemed mentally ill in retrospect.

In the limit of Buddhist philosophy, the entire sociopolitical construct held as normality is, suffering. Attachment to status and possessions causes dissatisfaction, apparently many are unhappy about how they look. Is your cognitive assimilation of appearance reality? One could suggest that modern psychology encourages samsara. Whereas Buddhism works at the eradication of the notion of self, psychology seeks to prop it up.

You pay your money and join the club that suits.

I’ll comment that I have had a number of visions, waking dreams if you like. None of these have completely removed the physicality of what might be called physical plane material reality. Though the event flow in vision was markedly different from the event flow on “earth”. I perceived them as an extra overlay with a very different sense of spatiotemporal perception.

I have always been able to visualise, to hold and build images in my “mind’s eye”. I can do this, as I am now, and continue to type reasonably accurately on a different subject. In terms of the Toltec aphorisms on dreaming. I am dreaming and typing at the same time.

As a rule of thumb, I am open minded. I have been meaning to thank someone {on LinkedIn} who nearly forty years ago helped me to open my mind. Initially I thought he was a pretentious prick, it turned out it was me who was the pedant and knobhead. He did me an enormous favour in introducing me to David Lynch.

Writing a business plan could be said to be a visionary practice. In order to plan one has to have, at least in my case, a picture or vision of how things might work or look. It has to be en-vision-ed. A patent application can be seen to be a vision of something not yet real. By concretising it into text and diagrams, one starts to materialise a vision or dream. Is something subjective and not yet real like a patent, a hallucination?

Some of these visions I have had are not of the same time as when I am having them. These visions with a sense of “ago” are explainable by invoking the notion of past life recall. Some come in full smell-o-vision.  Of course, you could just say that I was hallucinating.  My awareness of surroundings, though slightly reduced, remained operable. I was able, for example, to walk along Upper Tulse Hill to catch a bus for work. I did not get run over or walk into a lamppost.

When I dream passively at night, I know that I am dreaming. When I en-vision during the day, I am in control. Some of my visions were not that well controlled but I knew where I was and that something “else” was taking place.

If we call the common sociopolitical construct a samsaric dream, I am aware that I am dreaming it and can participate roughly along the lines of the “rules” of the construct. I have a whole lot less fear of missing out, FOMO, than most people.

In the desire to overly categorize and rationalise things, it is possible that humans “throw the baby out with the bathwater”. Concrete mind can be very concrete and fixated. It can be very wrong, group insanity like Brexit can seize the minds of millions.

I’ll develop this a little more using the same subject header at another time.

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Himalaya Foothills Dream 19-06-23.

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Before the dream started, I had a very persistent thought form in which I thought “humanity is no longer Darwinian”. This seed thought pointed to the fact that the process of natural selection has been inhibited by modern life. There is no longer exclusively a survival of the fittest. Lifeforms which would have died out survive and the evolution of the human species is stunted. People in the west do not currently have to fight to live, they can eke and survive.

The dream starts with me looking down at my bare feet they are on a concrete floor painted a very deep shade of red and I am wearing loose weave ethnic trousers, of a magenta shade. I can feel the cool floor under my feet. I am indoors and the refuge from the heat is welcome. I am sitting in a wicker chair on a white cushion. 

I stand up and leave my residence to go to the hotel / hostel which is down hill from me. I am in a small town on the side of deep ravine in the Himalayan foothills. I have been here for quite some time. I am at home. There are people milling about in the street. They are brown skinned with jet black hair and of slim stature. A couple of the children wave at me, they follow me down the street. There is a sense of accustomed play.

I get to the hotel and go up to the communal dining area. There people are making themselves a meal. It is all very ad hoc. I recognise some of them from London 20 odd years ago. Amongst them is Alexandros {nagal’s courier}. He is tall and has suffered badly from middle age spread. I motion to him and we go out into the small private garden. I ask him why he is here. He says that when I left ages ago, I told him that he should be sensible and keep safe. He has come with the others for me. We go back inside and there is an air of expectancy in the dining room. I leave.

I make my way back up the hill and try to cross a drain into a shaded porch area of an emporium serving tea. I struggle and nearly trip. A young Nepalese man (Gurkha?) grabs my arm and says, “you need to be more careful sahib.” I am a little surprise by his tone. He sits me down. It is clear that I am struggling to move and in some considerable physical pain. He says that we need to build up reserves because we are going to have to walk through the mountain pass at 3400 metres. It is a long way but we think that you can make it. The pass is to the North of the town in the dream. He says that he and his brother will be there with me all the way and that it is their job to guide and protect me. They have been assigned.

I step out onto what passes for the town square chiselled into the mountain side. I can smell the mountain air, rich and pungent from the plants on the mountainside. I can see the Himalaya massive resplendent in the morning light. It looks magnificent and formidable. Around the square a couple of light brown skinny dogs are playing in the shade of a tree.

To the side of the square is a small open stone wall. There are stones on top of short pillars. I go to sit on the wall and the Nepalese man comes and sits next to me. Down in the valley on a road winding up to the town there are several people and loaded pack donkeys. They are making their way; they are European and are assisted by locals. I recognise some of the Europeans. I ask the guide, “why are they coming here?” He says that “of course they have come to see you sahib. There will be others too.”

Dream ends.  

Working With Dreams

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Before I start to delve into my Attack Themed dreams I am going to talk a little about working with dreams.

I have a pet theory.

“Face is one of the most expensive and destructive follies of our human existence.”

People will do all sorts of stuff to try to preseve the Samsaric illusion of face. They will lie, maim and argue the toss. People do some truly dark shit to try to save “face”.

I have had some dreams in which I am attacked over and over. People who would not consider themselves evil are capable of a malevolence which they deem justifiable. From an evolutionary point of view, it is emotionally primitive, primordial even, evil. They would never accept that they are evil.

My secondary predilection after dreaming is for the clarity of the East, which makes me, in that context, a stalker of/in time. In the context of the eternal now, time is not quite as linear as physics would have us believe. The dreaming being out of matter is not so beholden to the laws of matter, one of which is “linear” time, the entropic arrow of disorder. We are counter entropic beings, one day we lose that battle and pop our clogs. Earth to earth, dust to dust.

 I’ll make a statement.

It is impossible to rush dreaming, dreaming needs time to coalesce.

Impatience and dreaming are not good bedfellows. Relaxation and abandon are key. Firm conclusions are an anathema to dreaming, any “conclusion” must be fluid and provisional. Grasping and latching on to interpretations is unwise. Dreaming in, is a practice of fluidity.

Early on I had prescient dreams. I would dream at night and the next day those dreams played out on campus in South Kensington. I have had dreams which have taken a decade to manifest. I have noted the death of some people in the dream with a physical plane temporal accuracy. If you keep a “lab book” you can cross reference. I also “see” dead people in dreams.

Of course I could be prone to confirmation bias, seeing connections which are not really there, because I want to. I am not a concluding kangaroo jumping forever to rigid conclusions.

In order to work with dreams, you might need a hypothesis. You could get all anal and Germanic. Or you could use the working hypothesis that the dreamer, your Soul, is trying to guide the physical plane you, the dreamed. If that is the case it implies that following the guidance in dreams is wise. There is a major caveat. The dreamer may suggest things contrary to your ambitions and desires. You may not like the “advice” and throw your toys out of the cot. The control junkie personality is unwilling to hand the steering wheel over to the dreamer. Although we may deem otherwise control is an illusion. We can micromanage during a day, but life has a bag of spanners which it enjoys chucking at us.

It takes courage to follow dreams.

To surrender the control is not for the feint of heart. One must be bold.

At the moment I am still working with the Human Puzzle dream. Subsequent to that I had many dreams which pointed to something unknown. The unknown, by definition, has few clues. One has to use the four postulates of stalking.

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Which says be humble, don’t get attached but do get busy. It says expectations are silly.

Concrete mind does not like the uncertainty of dreaming.

To work with dreams, one needs to relax and to let go. But you must be in it for the duration to find out where the journey goes.

I have no idea what, if anything, will come along before I go to the crem.