Buddhist Child – US Report – French Doctor – Cittaviveka Dream Sequence 18-09-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is last night’s dream sequence. I went to bed with a fairly decent head cold.

The dream starts viewing the outside of a Buddhist monastery in the bright morning sunlight. It is in the mountains. The walls of the monastery are a dark pastel puce colour. The finish on the wall is fairly rustic. There is an earthenware tiled roof with curved “oriental” beams protruding. It is Tibetan in style though I sense the word Mongol too. Stood there in the sunlight is a small Sino-Tibetan male child of around ten years age. He has mildly slanty oriental eyes and jet black hair. His eyes are dark. He is wearing monastic maroon robes and a winter “yak?” fur coat. His cheeks are ruddy from the cold. His face is neural of expression though I can sense a little mischief. We “know” each other. Well.

He is somehow ar-chay and sook-ray or sack-ray. The mind assembles the letters Aceh and sacré from the phonetics. Though the words, the sounds, are not English.

Either way I know him to be somehow holy and important. He is to be given to me for protection and education. In some way I am to assimilate him. I see him wearing a “boxy” hat which I understand to be like a crown. It is deep maroon. {On searching the internet the form is the same shape as a Tibetan ceremonial crown.} He is important and somehow also now a part of me.

The scene changes and I see a report. It is an A4 report bound with a cream cardboard cover. The cardboard has a slight sheen to it. To the left the report is bound with a navy-blue almost black spiral plastic binder. It is a little under a centimetre thick. Into the front of the report is cut a “window” which allows the title of the report to be viewed though the cover. I can see a two winged eagle above the subject line of the report. The eagle is in bright colour and I know that this is an official US government document. {On searching the logo is very similar to the official seal of the United States.} I know this to be some kind of intelligence or security briefing. The subject matter is me. There are at least half a dozen of these reports to be shared for discussion purposes. They are being shared with the British.

 The scene changes and I am in a high specification posh doctor surgery in France. I am talking with a tall blonde doctor who is in grey medical scrubs. Her hair is permed and curly and she speaks English with a faint French accent. She is examining me. She asks me if I can still emit energy from my hands and I say that from time to time, yes I can. She asks me if I will wash her hands for her. We go to a sink in the corner of the room which is a  bit cluttered. I clear the stuff away. She takes off her examination gloves. Using my elbow I turn on the elbow-tap. I place a very fluffy expensive white towel on the edge of the sink. I proceed to wash her hands with meticulous care, finger by finger. Which she seems to enjoy. We do this in silence. When I have finished I pat her hands dry. We both know that I am offering her a blessing of the highest order.

 We go over to her desk and she asks me to demonstrate palm to palm transfer of energy. Which I do. She then says that I must understand that the people around where I live in France will not understand me. They will have no notion of a person like me, implicit Rinpoche, is like nor what that means. I say that I already know this and have not in any way judged them. She thanks me and I her.

The scene now changes and I am in a large red brick house which has the feel of a large English village vicarage. I am a guest. The woman of the house is younger than me and the family are well to do. She is a member of the Sangha and has agreed to put me and the wife up. We are near Cittaviveka monastery in Midhurst.

I wake up early and go into the village. I need to get some electronic equipment to help follow a clue I have seen on the internet. I get some cable and some RF connectors to cramp on. The guy in the shop is sceptical that I can do this. I tell him I used to be a scientist. I get some other supplies. Across the road is another electronics shop. I go in but it has changed into a coffee shop.

I go back to the house and let myself in. I turn on the TV and connect an electronic box. I start to play an internet video which I decode via the box onto another screen. The video starts with Anthony talking about his new-found Buddhism. The decoder changes his image into flowing river going over a weir. I know this to be England. The weir is magnificent and I know that there will be barbel fish under the lip of the weir. I see the image of a young man whom I know is like me and whom I will meet.

The woman of the house comes downstairs she is very excited that I have made myself at home and offers us breakfast. Later in the day there is a meeting at Cittaviveka which has been convened specially for me, away from the city and the bright lights. Far from the press.

The dream ends and I think wow that was well and truly out of the blue. For some reason I have a visual image of Kate and William.

No! I do not want to download your effing app!

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

I have been pondering a notion, a question. It is this, “is it enlightenment or old age?”

Many of the things that people seem bothered about such as ‘phones, clothing, hairstyle, general appearance, apps, shagging, ‘phones, career advancement, kudos and internet fwiends don’t hold any fascination for me.

Now is this because of all my meditation that I have seen them to be impermanent and thereby illusory?

Or is it that just like any old git, I have experimental life evidence that these things ain’t all that?

Buggered if I know…

Recently I have been on the receiving end of my first bit of internet banking fraud. I do not use open networks in public spaces, nor do I visit and pay at dodgy web sites. Nevertheless some bastard has been able to pay for Uber in Amsterdam and Food Panda in Karachi of all places.

Given the location here in the wilds of Brittany I doubt anyone has had a bank card reader on an auto bank. There is just not enough footfall.

The signal from our Wi-Fi router does not reach off the property and unless someone has spliced into the fibre optic cable our internet has the low-level security of distance and isolation. We do not “surf” in public nor at Byron Bay. Of course some “actor” with skill could access our traffic. Because it is boring and not commercial I doubt anyone can be properly arsed. I haven’t yet fitted quantum key encryption.

There has been a data breach somewhere else…

We tend not to answer the ‘phone. Any attempt at ‘phone coercions would be met with English and not French. Random callers are ignored. If a French  ‘phone scammer was able to persuade me in English, they would have probably earned a few quid. I used to keep the Jehovah’s Witnesses busy for hours discussing comparative theology and world philosophy. With a smile. They even used to “blood” new recruits because they knew I had no ill will.

The bank have replaced my card but set its ability to purchase on line to zero euros as a safety measure. For some reason they want me to use the mobile app to put this right. I only turn on my mobile when I am going out to the physio or the shops alone. A battery charge usually last several months! So why would I want to use a mobile app?

This seems to be the answer for everything  down load our mobile app tear you hair out and have a myocardial infarction…

OK as a ’64 child I am still technically a boomer. But hey I used the internet back in the mid-late eighties.

In the hitchhiker’s guide the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything is obviously download our mobile app…

Obvs…

Simple…

No! I do not want to download your effing app!!

Clearly, I have just answered my own question. I must be an enlightened being because I no longer salaciously obsess about juicy smartphone apps.

There is no need to reincarnate to feed off/at the Google and Apple stores.

Final liberation is mine. I am a free being…

Limelight and Gangsters – Night

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

This morning the Guardian has a photo-essay on the Limelight Club in the 1980s. It was an “it” club for a while with lots of famous London scene people.

–

–

I used to work at a night club just of Oxford Street in the mid-eighties. Sometimes as many as three or four nights a week as a barman. I used start at 8 PM to set up the bar and get hone for 5 AM get a few hours’ sleep and during the week be back in The Royal Institution for coffee at 10 to do science. The club closed at 3:30 AM.

How I managed to get a Ph.D. remains a bit of a mystery…

It was on these early morning walks back from the night bus stop home when I knew beyond doubt that my time of day is the pre-dawn and dawn. London viewed from Kingsbury / Wembley in the summer, as it wakes up, it quite quiet special. The mental space is near silent and it is just fantastic.

I was a regular after the club closed at various fast food stalls near Oxford Street tube. On first name terms. Travelling home in my barman’s black and whites I use to often have females sitting next to me on the night bus for safety. I was not as pissed out of my skull as some of the other passengers. I was awake because of my Soul fate. I often had a few dabs to keep going.

Once a month one of the clubs would host a staff club night. These were free and only for other nightclub staff with reduced bar prices. They would start at 4 AM and go onto around  7. The DJ at the Limelight had an in depth selection of rare jazz funk and mellow soul groove. He would play it for us the discerning who needed a break from the stuff they had listened to all night. When it was the Limelight’s turn to host it was my favourite.

Because I spoke “posh” whenever the nightclub owners (possibly gangsters) came visit our club the manager would hold court one end of the bar. Only I was allowed to serve them. There was a cupboard with top notch classy booze only for VIPs. I was allowed to talk with them too. The others were kept at a distance. After I left the manger told me that if I ever needed a job to get back to him.

Seems not so long ago…

What is on the Dance Card?

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Next week returns us both to the medical merry-go-round. The wife is getting the results of her post breast cancer full genetic work up and I am having a preoperative stress echocardiogram because there was an anomaly with the ST section in my ECG trace. This could be due to ischemia or larger than usual size and ageing. When you look in Pandora’s box you never know what you will find. Our understanding of where we stand could change. The results for me might influence the go/no go for the hip replacement surgery. There may/may not be something wrong with my ticker.

In about a month’s time I have a full blood work up at which I will finally find out my blood group. I will get to meet the anaesthetist, the physio and a dietician. The latter no doubt will imply that I am a fat bastard. Explaining to French people that you do not eat vast amounts of charcuterie, cheese, fish and shellfish is not facile. They do not get it. The don’t do, vindaloo. They will want me to lose weight. I am currently a nice round 100kg. When I bust my hip I dropped below 85kg.

The notion of downscaling house is still on the cards and chronic. We need to do it. What we don’t know is how crippled I will be post operation(s). This feeds into the bungalow or single floor flat versus house decision. Currently single floor is favourite.

After watching the NF/BNP march in London yesterday I wonder why did Blair Peach die. Maybe it is time to reboot the anti nazi league.

–

–

Come back to blighty.. really ….. hmmnnn…

So far I have written up 77 dreams this year. There are others I can’t be arsed with. The dream length of late is heading past 1000 words. Why I am dreaming about AI I do not know. I do not use it nor know anything about it. I hate prompts to use bloody copilot.

I also have had numerous pseudo-technical or pseudo-scientific dreams. I do not mix in the kind of circles where I might discuss these nor chase them up. I don’t have to write research grant proposals or come up with ideas. The only person outside medical and this house I speak with is the ex-farmer who helps out in the garden. He does not care about quantum.

There are also Tibetan and Toltec dreaming themes. Again I do not move in circles where these might be in any way applicable. There is a part of me which mildly dreads going to bed. It means an hour in the morning typing up dreams.

The basic notion is visit UK see how it feels. Get bionic hip fitted – recover over winter. Maybe put house on market. Decide UK or France. Move. Or wait, get second bionic hip fitted, recover, put house on market, move. I looked at property in Erice Sicily yesterday.

Our right to remain expires end of March 2026. Probably there is no problem with renewal. Depending on the vagaries of French politics we could be much less welcome. The decision for the second hip is timed for around spring 2026. We too could become unwelcome immigrants.

All this flag waving marching creates fear and uncertainty. Seig heil…

There are a lot of things in the garden that I am going to have to let slip. Maybe in January I might be able to turn my hand to them.

I have a couple more months of increasingly painful / useless right hip on the cards. I need to only stand for an hour or so a day which limits what is possible. I can still do brief DIY painting and cooking and using the strimmer.

We will have a little more info by next Saturday…

Atonement – Ruining Lives

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

The other night we watched a quintessentially English film called “Atonement”. It was very well acted and full of luvvies. The costumes and setting were excellent. It was full of repression and class tension. The gist of it was that a posh teenage girl lied about events, a possible sexual assault. As a consequence a lower class man previously sponsored through Cambridge by the family was arrested and gaoled for the assault. The young woman of the house {the sister of the informant} and he were finally opening up about their strong feelings for each other just before the event. He, the outsider, was sent to prison in disgrace and their relationship was severed. The young woman of the house left the family. All because of the younger sister’s lies, the stretching of “truth” by the teenage girl who was too embarrassed to change her story. Before she got to atone for her sins, her older sister died in a Nazi bombing of London and he died during the BEF retreat to Dunkirk. The young informant wrote a whole novel imagining the lovers together and her atonement. It was all made up in her head, something she imagined doing but never could. It was too late. She did not atone. She imagined making up a “happiness” for them atoned for her actions. In reality it did not nor could not.

–

–

It shows that those fond of attention with a talkative tongue can invent shit and ruin the lives of others. Talk can literally derail lives. A few words in haste can have a devastatingly destructive impact. I am fairly sure that the basic gist of the story is played out time and again. The versions and circumstance vary, but lying for attention may be a very common theme. The film suggested that the protagonist who wrote a novel about the betrayal struggled with appreciating the impact and scale of what she did. Not everyone will struggle, the more sociopathic may feel justified and never think of it again. But if we are human we all kind of know when we have betrayed, let down and not been impeccable. Our conscience may vary. We may have a few nights on the pillow before sleep when the ghosts of deeds past parade before our mind. It may be more impactful and of a greater longevity.

It is often the outsider, the person who is not present, who has their lives ruined.

If we are so lucky as to be offered a chance to atone in some way for our deeds then the universe is kind to us. Should we fail to seize such a thing then our guilt may grow and metastasise. In reality we can never change nor undo the damage we have done. Any “sorry” if heartfelt is to assuage our own feelings of misdemeanour. Karmically it is at least an acknowledgement of responsibility and perhaps of learning. If we learn from misdemeanour then it has at least served some purpose. If we are a serial offender then pain and ruin has been wasted. It is wanton destruction.

It is logical that one lie almost invariably leads to others. Unless the truth is out, the lies propagate. The karma of lies can often be the perceived need for more lying, more falsehood. The causal impact of lies and exaggerations can be manifold.

A simple act can bifurcate through space-time.

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

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s sequence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

–

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

She asks me what it is that I do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dream ends.

Being Off the Map

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

In general people have a fairly fixed idea about how the world is, how people behave and what is expected. Which is a nice way of saying that people are prejudiced. The fact that I resigned my job at a decent university without any other, better job to go to, was for many a non sequitur. They could not get their head around it. It did not compute. Some invented some imaginary scandal to explain it, scandal ever being bread and butter in perfidious Albion.

–

–

People do not associate words on perception and meditation with a smoking skinhead bovver-boy. Nor do they image that a piss artist front row rugby player can chant in deep voice. People are set in their ways and their minds are a tad concrete.

I quite like having more than one working explanation for any given situation. I do not have to settle in any absolute way for which one is “right”. Modern education insists on getting the socially accepted “right” answer to exam questions. Students want to learn how to produce and parrot the “right” answer so as to get “A” levels and degrees. People are trained to think in an absolute binary right-wrong way.

The most logical explanation from a socio-political point of view is that I am simply a burn-out who could not hack it with the big boys, the big cheeses.

Another explanation is that I am off the map. I differ significantly in orientation from most. I just don’t fit. I am a square peg which cannot be hammered into a round hole. No drama. People have long been wary of things which have not been mapped out.

–

–

This means that only the foolhardy might seek to touch me with a barge pole. I could be infectious. Association with me could be career threatening.

I have been told by others that people do not want to be seen associating with me in public.

There is no incentive in a “what-is-in-it-for-me” sense to interact with me in any way, whether meaningful or otherwise.

I will likely remain off the map, uncharted.

People can choose to choose whatever it is they want to choose. Their choice is their choice. I have no wish to influence. If they make poor choices that is not my problem. I never advised them and they never sought my advice. People need to learn in whichever way helps them to learn.

This notion of standing back, non-interference, is neutral. It is nether life enhancing nor life destructive. It is an approach which does not make sense to others who wish to interact, to impinge, to affect and to influence. Some cannot resist trying to guide the lives of others and bend them to their will.

Non-interference is a direct consequence of emptiness, lack of will or ambition, is not on the map of modern ways of living. It is not there in “opportunity” land. After all “opportunities” should and must be seized!!

Why?

–

–