Car Break In – Dream – 12-02-2026

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Here is one of last night’s dream snippets continuing the car theme and in which I use uncharacteristic language.

The dream starts with me upstairs in a warehouse conversion type space with ornate metal ceiling pillars and open stonework. The floor is wooden and polished. The room is large and I am alone. Downstairs is an up market shopping arcade with a Covent Garden vibe though much calmer and perhaps classier. There is nobody about. It is early morning.

I leave the room and go down though the arcade to my car which is parked just outside on the street. It is a bit like my old Mitsubishi Colt but more old school Jaguar E-type in shape. It has a long bonnet and is very sporty it is orange-red in colour. It is similar to a hard top Ferrari 250 but not quite Ferrari red. It is sporty and fast.

I can see someone ferreting around in the back of my car with the left door open.

I shout out, “Oi, cunt-face get out of my car!!”

A tall gangly man gets out of the car. He is very dark haired and has a pock marked face. He is a wrong-un and oozes a bit of menace. He says that he did not take anything. All that he found was this. He hands me a white cigarette packet which is open and in which are two disposable lighters. I take this he says that he found this in the back seat.

He then moves to attack me. But I use footwork to step out of the way and block his lunge with my left arm in a brush block. He steps past me. He lunges again and I once again avoid.

He pauses and decides if to attack me again.

I say to him that he had better think carefully about what he is doing because if he attacks again I will not hold back. At the moment no harm has been done.

He turns and walks away. Again I get the feeling that he is a wrong-un and no respecter of natural {emphasis here} law. There is a feel of evil about him, he is like a movie villain.

The dream ends.

Two Mistakes -Academic Conference – Yet More Car Crashes – Dream – 10-02-2026

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Here is last night’s dream. If follows on from the three “real” world car crashes we have had outside our house and into our drive. Two of which were quite spectacular.

The dream opens in some kind of conference centre on an underground floor leading to modern lecture theatres. It is in the UK query London. People are milling about. There are reception desks with badges on lanyards and others with promotional literature. There are a couple of stand up banners. People are gathering, relatively smartly dressed for an “important” conference or meeting. They are mostly younger than me some around two decades so, the next generation. The feel is modern. I am there but not there. I am observing but not fully present. In the dream I think it will be interesting to see how things are done these days.

We all go in and I take a seat a few rows back from the front. The first speaker, a woman, starts a scientific talk in which there is a lot of show or glitz and little content. There is a glaring mistake early on because she has failed to research properly. A beginner would know this to be wrong. At the end to my surprise the applause is enthusiastic and congratulatory. I am wondering why, there was no substance. The second speaker is a male, suited. He is introduced as being a big cheese. His talk is also full of pizzazz but I struggle to find any information, genuine novelty or substance therein. He asserts on a number of things which I know to be very wrong and entirely inaccurate, a schoolboy error perhaps propagated from a bad source. Again to my surprise there is enthusiastic applause. I think to myself that standards must have dropped a great deal.

There is a coffee break and I am met by some younger people and organisers. They ask me what I think. I say that the standards have changed and that you cannot talk about these things without mentioning activation energies. I say that I am surprised. It is all showy and kind of ends there. I say there have been two very obvious mistakes, glaring even.

We go back in and another speaker starts and his slide pack does indeed have a graph of activation energy but it is so utterly complex as to be impenetrable. I am pretty sure that he does not know what he is trying to convey, what he is talking about and is simply trying to appear clever.

Later I return to my apartment. People from the conference and the organisers are in the flat below which is much smaller than mine. They are having drinks, a kind of post conference party. I tidy my flat up a bit and find some bottles of aged single malt Scotch whisky. I go down stairs and say to them if they want to spread out a bit they can use my flat for the gathering, there are nibbles and high quality vintage Scotch.

They start to file upstairs. I am looking out of the kitchen window onto the parking area below. Up pull two very large truck rescue vehicles one red, one blue. They are each towing a large wheel base mini-bus. These have been involved in serious accidents and are badly crashed up. They relate to the conference. I know that they represent group consciousness, group awarenesses. The drivers unhitch the crashed minibuses and come up the steps to my door. They want to hand over paperwork for the crashed minibuses. I say that they are not my minibuses, they do not belong to me. The drivers say that they know that. But that he have been advised to leave the buses here overnight. I can report this to the police in the morning and have them towed. I say that I do not want them there. They insist and hand over the paperwork. In the dream I think, “oh no not yet more car crashes!”

I awake the dream ends.

  • Cars and vehicles are the dreaming symbol for state of awareness. These are not mine.

The Nidānakathā – it is not the fault…

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The Nidānakathā

or

The Three Epochs

—-

Inasmuch as this comment on the Jātaka, if it be expounded after setting forth the three Epochs, the distant, the middle, and proximate, will be clearly understood by those who hear it by being understood from the beginning, therefore I will expound it after setting forth the three Epochs. Accordingly from the very outset it will be well to determine the limits of these Epochs. Now the narrative of the Bodhisatta’s existence, from the time that, at the feet of Dīpaṅkara, he formed a resolution to become a Buddha to his rebirth in the Tusita heaven after leaving the Vessantara existence, is called the Distant Epoch. From his leaving the Tusita heaven to his attainment of omniscience on the throne of Knowledge, the narrative is called the Intermediate Epoch. And the Proximate Epoch is to be found in the various places in which he sojourned {during his ministry on earth}.

The Distant Epoch

Tradition tells us that four asankheyyas and a hundred thousand cycles ago there was a city called Amaravatī. In this city there dwelt a brahmin named Sumedha, of good family on both sides, on the father’s and the mother’s side, of pure conception for seven generations back, by birth unreproached and respected, a man comely, well-favoured and amiable, and endowed with remarkable beauty. He followed his brahminical studies without engaging in any other pursuit. His parents died while he was still young. A minister of state, who acted as steward of his property, bringing forth the roll-book of his estate, threw open the stores filled with gold and silver, gems and pearls, and other valuables, and said, “So much, young man, belonged to your mother, so much to your father, so much to your grandparents and great-grandparents,” and pointing out to him the property inherited through seven generations, he bade him guard it carefully. The wise Sumedha thought to himself, “After amassing all this wealth my parents and ancestors when they went to another world took not a farthing with them, can it be right that I should make it an object to take my wealth with me when I go?” And informing the king of his intention, he caused proclamation to be made in the city, gave largess to the people, and embraced the ascetic life of a hermit.

—

The Distant Epoch

Now one day the wise Sumedha, having retired to the splendid upper apartmentof his house, seated himself cross-legged, and fell a thinking. “Oh! wise man, grievous is rebirth in a new existence, and the dissolution of the body in each successive place where we are reborn. I am subject to birth, to decay, to disease, to death, – it is right, being such, that I should strive to attain the great deathless Nirvāṇa, which is tranquil, and free from birth, and decay, and sickness, and grief and joy; surely there must be a road that leads to Nirvāṇa and releases man from existence.”

Accordingly it is said,

—

17. Seated in seclusion, I then thought as follows:

Grievous is rebirth and the breaking up of the body.

–

18. I am subject to birth, to decay, to disease,

Therefore will I seek Nirvāṇa, free from decay and death, and secure.

–

19. Let me leave this perishable body, this pestilent congregation of vapours,

And depart without desires and without wants.

–

20. There is, there must be a road, it cannot but be:

I will seek this road, that I may obtain release from existence.

—-

Further he reasoned thus, “For as in this world there is pleasure as the correlative of pain, so where there is existence there must be its opposite the cessation of existence; and as where there is heat there is also cold which neutralizes it, so there must be a Nirvāṇa that extinguishes (the fires of) lust and the other passions; and as in opposition to a bad and evil condition there is a good and blameless one, so where there is evil Birth there must also be Nirvāṇa, called the Birthless, because it puts an end to all rebirth.”

Therefore it is said,

—-

21. As where there is suffering there is also bliss,

So where there is existence we must look for non-existence.

–

22. And as where there is heat there is also cold,

So where there is the threefold fire of passion extinction must be sought.

–

23. And as coexistent with evil there is also good,

Even so where there is birth the cessation of birth should be sought.

–

–

Again he reasoned thus, “Just as a man who has fallen into a heap of filth, if he beholds afar off a great pond covered with lotuses of five colours, ought to seek that pond, saying, ‘By what way shall I arrive there?’ but if he does not seek it the fault is not that of the pond; even so where there is the lake of the great deathless Nirvāṇa for the washing of the defilement of sin, if it is not sought it is not the fault of the lake. And just as a man who is surrounded by robbers, if when there is a way of escape he does not fly it is not the fault of the way but of the man; even so when there is a blessed road loading to Nirvāṇa for the man who is encompassed and held fast by sin, its not being sought is not the fault of the road but of the person. And as a man who is oppressed with sickness, there being a physician who can heal his disease, if he does not get cured by going to the physician that is no fault of the physician; even so if a man who is oppressed by the disease of sin seeks not a spiritual guide who is at hand and knows the road which puts an end to sin, the fault lies with him and not with the sin-destroying teacher.”

Therefore it is said,

—-

24. As a man fallen among filth, beholding a brimming lake,

If he seek not that lake, the fault is not in the lake;

–

25. So when there exists a lake of Nirvāṇa that washes the stains of sin,

If a man seek not that lake, the fault is not in the lake of Nirvāṇa.

–

26. As a man beset with foes, there being a way of escape,

If he flee not away, the fault is not with the road;

–

27. So when there is a way of bliss, if a man beset with sin

Seek not that road, the fault is not in the way of bliss.

–

28. And as one who is diseased, there being a physician at hand,

If he bid him not heal the disease, the fault is not in the healer:

–

29. So if a man who is sick and oppressed with the disease of sin

Seek not the spiritual teacher, the fault is not in the teacher.

—-

How Things Pan Out…

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–

–

I think it fair to say we never really know how things are going to pan out. Sometimes hindsight and retrospect enable us to re-frame our narratives concerning how we got here, wherever here might be.

I can say that my “future” at the turn of the century looked markedly different to how it turned out and actually is now. I doubt even the greatest “seer” could have pictured what happened and how we live our lives now. The divergence of imagined future and subsequent actuality was large.

Aside from what goes on in the dreams, it is more straightforward to suggest an on-going likely trajectory now than it was back then. For a start the number of variables in life are reduced as is the dramatis personae.

Of course there could be an influx of new and new people but given the circles we move in, the likelihood is low.

We will have provisional answers on the major events of 2026 in a few months. One of these question marks we have a good indication on already.

I have been toying with an idea and that is about leaving the wheel of rebirth. In the hagiographies this is often represented as quasi-miraculous perhaps to generate aspiration. Maybe it is a whole lot simpler than that. Perhaps all one needs is to have seen a lot, experienced a lot and to be essentially {in its core meaning} used up. If one is used up and has zero residual ambition there is no driver to take on another body, another slab of meat. One becomes quiescent and has not the impulse to energise another biological form. This idea is perhaps more logical that others. The urge to be reborn ceases and it is no more complicated than that. No desire – no rebirth. No want – no rebirth. No greed – no rebirth.  The list goes on.

Maybe it is a kind of boredom that allows one to escape the wheel. I have been there, seen that, done that and now at last, I have the t-shirt. I have learned along the way.

What hindsight may also suggest is the role others have had in our lives. How we perceive that role may differ from how they do. We may learn a little about for what purpose we called them forth into our lives. We may have missed the point entirely. Too often we berate and blame instead of considering. The way modern life is lived, lacks patience. In our haste we miss so very much.

Maybe that is it, no more drama…

Siddartha said, “stop being such a drama queen and like a cart follows an ox you will find satisfaction, serenity and peace. In time, after you have discarded your pink feather boa and ludicrous overreactions, you will be free.”

I have an inkling that many obsessed with complexity and intellectual masturbation fail to see the buddha-field of simplicity…

You never know what life has in store for you, nor how things will pan out.

All you every really have is now…

—————————————

Chapter VII: The Venerable (Arhat)

90 There is no suffering for him who has finished his journey, and abandoned grief, who has freed himself on all sides, and thrown off all fetters.

91 They depart with their thoughts well-collected, they are not happy in their abode; like swans who have left their lake, they leave their house and home.

92 Men who have no riches, who live on recognised food, who have perceived void and unconditioned freedom (Nirvana), their path is difficult to understand, like that of birds in the air.

93 He whose appetites are stilled, who is not absorbed in enjoyment, who has perceived void and unconditioned freedom (Nirvana), his path is difficult to understand, like that of birds in the air.

94 The gods even envy him whose senses, like horses well broken in by the driver, have been subdued, who is free from pride, and free from appetites.

95 Such a one who does his duty is tolerant like the earth, like Indra’s bolt; he is like a lake without mud; no new births are in store for him.

96 His thought is quiet, quiet are his word and deed, when he has obtained freedom by true knowledge, when he has thus become a quiet man.

97 The man who is free from credulity, but knows the uncreated, who has cut all ties, removed all temptations, renounced all desires, he is the greatest of men.

98 In a hamlet or in a forest, in the deep water or on the dry land, wherever venerable persons (Arhanta) dwell, that place is delightful.

99 Forests are delightful; where the world finds no delight, there the passionless will find delight, for they look not for pleasures.

Dhammapada (Max Muller)

Pitching a Novel?

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Last night we watched the last episode of “Stranger Things”. The last section was long and painfully drawn out filled with American saccharin and apple pie idealism. It was a bit “pass the sick bag”. We had to wait for the predictable ending for quite a while. It went out with a damp squib. No tenterhooks. Overall “Stranger Things” has been enjoyable, original and different.

Which led me to thinking, “could I do better?”

Anyway I am back to the notion of a novel. The theory being that my USP is that I once was a kosher scientist and I have a fairly deep understanding of the occult. I am no longer a practicing scientist in that I do not earn a living therefrom. There are not many like me.

That brings me back to the whole publishing minefield where many publishers require an agent. There are scam-self publishing houses or one can do Amazon-Kindle self-publishing. There are people who take advantage of the gullible who want to be published.

I know enough about how self-publishing works.

There is a catch 22.

Why write a book if it will be a complete ball ache to get published?

Is it possible to get an in principle interest from either an agent or a publisher before starting a book?

An advance seems impossible.

The big drawback in all this is getting enthusiasm for promotion. I am not sure I could be arsed.

My pitch to venture capital success rate remains very good. But I had to write a business plan for that, even if it did not get read until after the pitch. There was a manuscript of sorts with graphs, projections and shit like that.

I am pretty confident that I can come up with something original. Would it be too highbrow? Maybe. Perhaps there would not be enough intrigue, violence and shagging though. Mobile ‘phone use could be a little too sparse.

I am really not turned on by the idea of being a published author, in the book sense. I don’t want to be the story teller aiming at a world with three waterfalls…I don’t know what motivates others. There is a lot of “advice” on line about how to pitch, how to go ahead. Some of it seems very scam…

A novel would give me something to do. It is statistically unlikely to generate any revenue. The Kindle route is cost free but they hassle you for USA tax documentation. There is a lot of spam. The last dealings I had with prospective agents were unsatisfactory. I have had responses from small niche publishing houses and I did get one or two indications of at least an alleged willingness to read a manuscript. The responses were not rote bulk nor at the time AI bot generated. I still have these emails.

I have previously been interested in testing the limits of possibility…you never know where an idea can go, what it might evolve in to…

Hmnn…

US Event – Wrong Table – Dream 07-02-2026

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Here is last night’s dream. I have no idea where this came from.

The dream opens in some kind of US led event, possibly at the London embassy or some swish London hotel. It is in some kind of meeting of delegates and in hurried response to one of Trump’s “great ideas”. The whole thing is rushed, last minute and cobbled together. The staff have done a great job of preparing the banquet with a long rectangular top table seated on one side only and subsidiary tables. The Americans have sent a delegation most of whom are MAGA loyalists. At right angles to top table there are the other long tables seated on both sides.

I find myself sat on one of these tables very close to the end which abuts top table. To my left is an English MP query Wes Streeting and to my right is an American who clearly considers himself important. “Wes” is next to top table. The American is talking to staff to have me moved because he does not know who I  am and am not in any of the pre-meeting briefings he has received from security. He is talking to staff in a demanding and entitled way. He is roughly my age wearing a dinner jacket like suit and has a balding head. He says that he does not know who the fuck I am nor why I am there. I agree that there must be some mistake. I am clearly at the wrong table. I do not belong there. I am not important like them. I move to get up. “Wes” apologises. I say that it is for me no drama. Once I have gotten up everyone shuffles along one place to the left.  

The staff lead me off to the back of the room to some kind of satellite meeting. They notice a place between Justin Trudeau and a MAGA faithful lawyer who is becoming politically active. He is upcoming. He is mid-forties and with sandy coloured hair. They seat me between them. Trudeau welcomes me as does the lawyer. Trudeau is just swinging by and is in London. I start to skilfully interview the politician-lawyer. He is having good fun because he is talking about himself. I ask questions attentively. He suddenly stops and asks me what I do.  He has a southern accent. I say that a long while back I did a start-up and used to work with students. He says that maybe I can help look after his daughter who is on placement here in London. I say gladly.

She waves from the entrance hall to the banquet. I get up and go to meet her. Together we go to the quiet rooftop of the building. We start to chat and she has with her a yellow plastic container with “fluff” a fluorescent pink marshmallow like treat. She offers me some. She is on strict instructions not to eat the whole box. I have a little and say that she is welcome to my share. I ask her how she is finding London. Refreshing is the answer. She apologises and says that her father can be more than a bit of a dick from time to time. I am pleased to be away from the banquet.

The scene changes and I walk past a glass doored college laboratory and the young woman is there. It is the next morning. I ask how she is. She says that she had an upset stomach from the fluff but is otherwise OK. I leave her to get on with her experiments. Apparently her father has come to pick me up in a car and I need to get into a suit. He arrives and we go down into a wide American style convertible which he drives only a few hundred yards. We discuss how relationships can take a time to build. He says that where he comes from the pace like the accent is slow. A garage door opens automatically and we are soon in the lobby of a hotel. I think it really stupid to have driven when he could have walked. Someone gestures to him and he walks off leaving me in the lobby with the promise he will return. In the dream I know he will not and try to figure out how long I need to wait before I can walk off. He has forgotten all about me because I am not important to him..

The dream ends.