The Toad Diaspora

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The annual toad diaspora has begun. It is a part of the cycle of life here on the compound. Each January and February both toads and frogs gather in the pond for reproduction. They turn up, shag like loonies, and are gone in less than a fortnight.

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The top count walking around the pond has been something in excess of 100 individuals. There are more toads than frogs. There are more amphibians which I cannot see from the bank. At a conversion rate of 10 legged new born individuals per toad that means ~1000 micro-toads to migrate away in search of their own territory. It could be ten or a hundred times more. I assume they have a migratory diaspora which radiates outwards from the pond centre.

They are small enough to get through the ventilation gaps in the double glazed window-doors. Whenever it rains the little blighters are on the move. The total of toad humane removal events so far is around ten. We have to beat the cat. If you don’t save them, they desiccate. Generally the migration tails off towards the end of September. It depends upon the rain.

Now we are on toad watch….

Seven Shots – Père-Lachaise – Soul Talking – Dream 29-08-2025

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Here is last night’s dream.

The dream starts with a view of me in a large bathtub. The bathtub is built-in and I can see the back of my head with arms and shoulders out of the water supporting me. The lighting is partial. It is night time and reminiscent of the death scene for Jim Morrison in the Doors film. There is an eerie silence. I can hear the breathing of the person through whom I am seeing the scene. I can feel his emotions. He is excited but livid and vengeful. He is bilious and hateful and wants very badly to kill me. He is dark and imbued with darkness. I know his “vibration” and the cloying energy he emanates. He sneaks closer. Using a handgun with silencer he fires five shots into the back of my head. I hear the sounds of a gun fitted with a suppressor. The head does not explode but jolts with each shot. He moves round to the front. Where I can see my face, through his eyes. He fires two more shots directly into my Ajna centre. I hear the sounds. The gun arm now lowers in his right hand. He is partially spent.

The scene changes to Père-Lachaise cemetery and to Jim Morrison’s grave bedecked in graffiti.

The scene changes to an isolated black room in which there is a stand alone white enamel old-school bath tub. It has a weak overhead light and is alone in the vast room. There is nothing else. I am completely naked in the bath tub and it has warm clear water. From inside the tub I can hear footsteps approaching. Someone is trying and failing to be quiet. The steps echo. They approach from behind and I can now hear their breath which also smells faintly of red wine. I feel the impact in the back of the head as they shoot me five times from close range with a silenced hand gun.

The person now comes round to the front of the bath and points the handgun at my forehead. I see the muzzle discharge flash as he fires twice into my Ajna centre. He is not looking into my eyes as he does this. When he is finished. I catch his eyes and hold them in my gaze. I stare deep into the recesses of his Soul. He is transfixed by my gaze. Slowly I get out of the water standing up stark naked and dripping wet. I hold his gaze and he cannot break it. I go over to a newly appeared towel rack and select a large white towel which I wrap around my waist. I leave the room. The assassin is left standing rooted to the spot looking dumbfounded at an empty bath.

The scene changes and I am in a busy university like environment with lots of young people going about their business. I am on a raised level with cafeterias and function rooms. In one there is an exhibition of art and performance art. I have put up a poster display about dreams and dreaming. A young gay Japanese man comes to my poster and we get chatting. He is a well-known avantgarde artist and is a part of the organising / judging committee for the event. He offers me a coffee and we go to get one. He is fascinated about dreams and would like to tell me his. We go back.

A woman with entourage is doing the rounds. She is leading the judging. She says that my effort is not flamboyant enough. I explain  to her that flamboyance is often an indicator of triviality and superficiality a mark of showing off from a personality level. There is glamour and show. I say that in dreaming for certain individuals the Soul speaks directly and can only he heard by the ready. I say that the whisper of the Soul in not for the crass. She seems offended yet partially drawn in, bewitched even. She wants to hear her own Soul it would be good for her art. She asks me to tell her more.

We leave the building which is now the V&A museum out onto Exhibition Road. I explain  to her as we walk  that there is a subset of dreams called Soul dreams which are dramatizations of the Soul directly. These dreams are our Soular essence our true core of being. It is wise to accept and embrace such dreams.

The dream ends and I go for a loo break it is 6AM…

Diplomatic Close Protection – Canal Boat – Base – Dream 28-08-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream from around 6AM.

The dream opens in a canal boat rental office in, specifically, Altrincham. I am with my wife and two young women, late twenties early thirties. They are both armed with automatic pistols in Velcro holsters at waist level on the back. The weapons are Glock like. One of the women is right handed and the other left handed from the way the guns are situated for draw. They are wearing discrete Kevlar body armour  and have “security” communications earpieces. They are dressed in dark trousers and quasi-military shirts. They feel special forces like. One I know to be a lesbian and she is the senior. They work in diplomatic close protection and I am their charge. They are clearly physically fit and agile. They are alert. The idea being for us to hire a canal boat and head via the network to North Yorkshire because I will be off radar and there is little traffic now off season.

There are two women working in the canal boat office. They are wearing earphone microphone headpieces. The one I am talking with has frizzy poorly coloured bleach blonde hair. She is a bit giggly, flirty and fawning because she has seen me on the TV and recognises me from the news. I explain that we need a good comfortable canal boat for several weeks with satellite Wi-Fi. She shows us a catalogue and one of the protection agents selects a top model and says they will cover the bill. The women is told to remain quiet about what happened. She hands me the keys.

We make our way down to canal boat dock and are joined by the wife’s brother. He is taking it all in his stride and asks to drive the longboat. We set off with him at the wheel.

Nearby a residence / base has been set up and hired. It is a modern country property with two outdoor walled terraces which have awnings and heating. There is no line of sight to these terraces. The property also has a helipad. They are setting up the outdoor terrace for meetings / debriefs. I can see that there is a subtle security perimeter being put in place. The drive to the house from a country road is roughly half a kilometre. This property will be semi-permanent after the canal foray. People can visit me there unobtrusively.

Back in the canal boat we negotiate a shallow section. I can see in the reeds partially stranded a large predator salmon like fish {query Zander on writing}. I see this and think that I will be able to do canal fishing. We pull up to a mooring near a country pub. The wife’s brother goes over to a black SUV parked near a five bar wooden country gate to pick up fishing rods from extra “security” who have been shadowing the five of us. He rejoins the boat. The wife and I are in the galley and I am starting to prepare food for all of us.

The boat reaches a series of mounting locks. I joke to my brother in law that we had better look at the manual because the lock gates loom massive. We need to learn how to fill the lower portion of the lock.

The dream ends.

Death by Committee

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Memorandum

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The Committee for Due and Careful Consideration

has concluded that, after much,

due and careful consideration

there is a need for some more committee work

in order to reach consensus and include all stakeholder views

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Henceforth, the Committee for Tentative Bold Decisions

will be disbanded and replaced by the following:

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The Committee for Developing the Procrastinory Arts

which will be under the umbrella of

the Division of Continuous Development

and manged by sub tier Obfuscation and Delay

special focus group Application of Classical Hellenic Drama in Committee Work

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The Committee for Exploration of Justificatory Practice

(as applied to the abeyance of decision making).

It will be chaired by Sir John Certainty

formerly of Ladbrokes and now

Parliamentary Under Secretary for the Department of Prevarication

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The Committee for Extensive Self Congratulation

(a sub committee of the Remunerations and Rewards Division)

This will be chaired by Dame Patricia O’ Bac

formerly of the European Union Centre for Administrative Acceleration

and part time adviser to Greenpeace on Sustainable Bureaucracy (paper)

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The Committee for Dogmatic Adherence to Due Process

(a sub committee of Regulatory Affairs)

This will be chaired by Rick Parfitt of Status Quo fame

his portfolio will focus on the inclusion of the work

of the above committees into the institutional Dogma Manual / User Guide

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The Committee for Considering the Risk of Risk Mitigation Strategies

(a sub committee of Corporate Contingency Planning and Risk Contingency)

This will be chaired by the entire Committee for Strategic Oversight

and include representatives from all member states

with each having a veto to ensure complete inclusion

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The Committee for Employee Well Being and Vacations

(a cross functional committee between Human Resources and Remuneration)

Sir Thomas Cook and Sir Richard Branson will co-chair.

The Committee for Dogmatic Adherence to Due Process

has already received their disclosures with respect to conflict of interest

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The Committee for Generating New Committees

(This is envisaged as a “blue skies” think tank)

The Director General European Commissary Affairs will chair.

He will be the new committee generating Tzar

Price Waterhouse Coopers will audit expenditure

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The Committee for Due and Careful Consideration

would like to thank The Committee for Tentative Bold Decisions

for all their hard work over the decades.

It hopes they enjoy the private box at The Royal Opera House

and wishes them well for all their Christmases in Barbados. 

–

 Memorandum Ends

 ….

What Do You Notice?

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Depending upon our experiences, orientation and degree of self-absorption what we notice may differ. How we assimilate it can differ too. The wife has a different approach from me which means we can find things the other cannot, CDs and keys being an example. I can be detail blind. Working together is more comprehensive.

This morning the nurse noted that I was limping, waddling like a duck. As a part of her profession she notes things like this. I have noted of late that people apologise to me for getting in my way because my penguin gait lacks poise and grace. I am no longer a twinkle-toed ninja Nureyev.

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When we have a pattern orientation things which jar with that pattern can be mildly unsettling. We know something is off but cannot always verbalise what it is that is off. We may not twig what. I am very familiar with the lay of the land around the pond and the boundary fences. If something has changed, I notice. Any ingress by animal leaves signs. I spot these.

With people I am good at spotting when flow, event flow is a bit staccato or forced. People may be saying one thing but my pattern orientation tells me with a klaxon that something is off. I note this and drop my credulity down to a few per cent.

My orientation is towards patterns, flow and modus operandi. I note and remember the “play book” even if this is imagined covert.  Some people will tend to send an “underling” to interact and then quiz them afterwards so that no provable direct involvement is present. They may may imagine that the motive is hidden and that they are being perhaps clever and cunning. They will move a “pawn”   1. e4 imagining perhaps that someone might be playing the same kind of games. Opening gambits are limited and some people love the idea of a gambit.

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They can treat others poorly without rhyme nor reason because they like to play games. They imagine themselves suave and sophisticated. Others may have different views.

I have a mild aptitude for detective or intelligence work. But I certainly lack the stamina or dedicated application. I can read between the lines well but only for so long as I remain interested. I have often wondered if I have some kind of attention deficit but have the working conclusion that I get bored relatively quickly. Once I have the gist that suffices, usually. Once I learned how to get research grants funded, the mystery was gone. Not so exciting after that…

As part of my development I looked into the concept of stalking perception, according to the stalker’s rule. This has nothing to do with criminal stalking, but is paying attention to what we observe, what we perceive and what we assimilate therefrom. To the vast majority of people what I have just said has no meaning and they have no idea what is entailed. They have not devoted decades to stalking their own perception. They will be unaware of the divergence in approach to life which this engenders and imagine that the “normal” guidelines apply. As a stalker of perception I theorise that the majority of people have no idea that I may be stalking my perception of events and to a certain extent theirs.

When I was interacting with people in the Toltec context, I felt the best approach would be to convince people that I was a dreamer and not a stalker, by predilection. As a consequence I would by default, be underestimated.

What I have learned is that most people try the same approach over and over with very few variations. They tend to see things solely from within their own context and view of the world…

They can be stuck in their ways.

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My Rosary – Dream Vision – 26-08-2025

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Here is a dream / vision from the early hours last night.

“I am in a room, white wash loose sealed but only partial illuminated by small brass (?) oil lamps. I look down at my arms and they are brown and less hairy than I am used to. I am holding a beaded “rosary” and passing the beads between my fingers.  These are roughly the size of the top of my middle finger. There are not spherical, a sort of rounded cylinder pea shaped. They are made of a stone like “wooden” brown material which is at first cool to the touch. As I run the beads through my fingers I come to an amber bead which is much smoother. I note it. I continue. On the opposite side of the rosary chain / circle is another amber bead. This one is slightly larger.  I hold it up to the light. I can see an entire mosquito-like insect preserved in the amber. It is a thing of marvel. The rosary has two amber beads amongst all the dark brown ones. I am hearing “om mane padme hum”  as I run the beads sequentially through  my fingers.”

The Future of the Dragon Dream 26-08-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 5 and 7 AM. It was sufficiently realistic that I just opened my email expectantly.

The dream opens with me sat on a sofa with a coffee on a glass coffee table in front. The furniture is ratan in build and the room tropical themed. There are batik hangings and a golden Thai style top-knot haired Buddha figurine. The walls are white washed and stone and there is a feel of castle and perhaps Scotland. I am somehow at home in these settings. I go over to a large dark wooden desk with a green “club” leather chair. I boot up the computer. In an email account I rarely use I scan the list of emails. One email stands out from the bunch. It has the subject line, “The Future of the Dragon”. I do not know the sender’s address.

I pause for a moment and then open the email sceptical of spam / phishing. The email opens without problem and it is addressed to me. The person would like to meet up to discuss the future of the dragon. I look to the bottom of the mail for a signature. The address is arranged in the form of a Thai Wat temple and originated from a dojo in the Malay-Singapore-Thai region with a Singapore head office. It has ‘phone numbers, email address and an Instagram account. The protagonist is called Cheng. I am unsure how to respond or when to respond. I look at the Instagram account and see a picture of a young Asian male in his mid-twenties. He is pictured in karate-gi with his pals. There are other pictures of him in the dojo, in nature and it all looks fine and above board. I note his appearance. He has at least a part Chinese to him. I resolve to wait a little before replying.

Next, I am driving South down Regents Street in London, near Hamleys. I am in my white Jeep style SUV. It is around Christmas time because the lights are on. Coming in the opposite direction, North, there is a stream of traffic which comes to a halt in front of me. A young man gets out and walks past me to see what is going on. It is Cheng. I call out his name. He stops and turns looking surprised. I say that he emailed me and that I recognised him from the photos. I say to remind him, “The future of the dragon.” It suddenly clicks. I gesture for him to get into my car which he does. I do a U-turn and gesture for his friends to follow me in their open top Jeep-Moke.

We drive off into one of the large semi-circles of grand housing next to a park. There is a pub nearby. I say that we should talk. He has suddenly gone all shy. I ask him if a beer would help. Yes, perhaps. We make  our way to the pub and are soon joined by his friends which include his tiny sister. Chris turns up and I suggest that he gets us all a drink which he does.

I ask Cheng as an icebreaker about the style of karate he was training in and offer him my shoulder to punch. I ask was it non-contact and play punch him in the head or was it full contact. He says that is was a little heard of martial art specific to region but that is not what the dragon is about. He knows that I know this. I see through my contact with him a small wizened Asian man who is tiny and dressed in a Chinese “Tai Chi” outfit. He is Malay, Burmese or Singaporean. I understand him to be a master and that Cheng is by way of his contact. I have never met the master before but he is somehow familiar. I can feel him now as I type. I can recognise him.

Cheng’s sister calls her mother back home and explains that he has found me.

The dream ends.

Power and the Intimate Privacy of Death

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It is warm and sunny outside, so perhaps it is safer to write on these things. Although physical plane death may be public there is a private intimate part not shared by the consciousness of the living and those not in the transition. Ostensibly death may be quick brought on by an IDF bullet or a heart attack. It could be a slow drawn out process mediated by an ailing brain or a bleed. One could have a physically easy or a physically painful death. I have had both. These days death under morphine is not uncommon. Many full of bravado are nevertheless fear-full of that tap on the shoulder. It re-presents the time when the croupier of life spins the roulette wheel after shouting,

 « Mesdames et messieurs, faites vos jeux ! »

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For logically we all know we are placing our bets on what may or may not happen when we die. The ball rolls and stops and we find out if we have won or lost.

History tells of many a shit-scared monarch buying papal indulgences on his death bed in an attempt to bribe God.

I’ll state here that I am not the kind of being who tries to use or take advantage of others. It is not my basic orientation. I am more likely to facilitate, to try help. We all have faults and mine is less nasty. I have to the detriment of others allowed myself to be used. I have robbed them in a sense of the battles which they may have faced. Because I have faced things for them. This in a way, although perhaps altruistic, is disempowering.

I have met a number of people losing their battle with power over the years. Caught up in the process they were and would be unable to see or accept that this is the case. Weirdly the power-flame attracts many a moth on the make, only for a singeing of wings. The lust for a share in apparent power is perhaps the most blinding thing which can happen to a being. They see only with blinkered eye the power, and not the consequence both on others and on them. Most people guess they can handle power. Most people are wrong, for it is power which handles them and changes them. Many in the throes of their battle with power present themselves as some beacon of light when they are anything but. Power deludes those hungry for it and their supporters. Power likes to justify.

I’ll make a little aside here. If there is significant influx of first ray “will-to-power” energy the number of people losing their battle with power will rise and a dark, dark, cloud will result. The first ray is very difficult to handle and cope with. Any crack, any latent cruelty, any lust for power over, will be activated.

The individual mentioned in my dream taught me a lot, for which I am thankful. Primarily he showed behaviours which I did not like and did not want to adopt for myself. It was an exemplar of what I did not want to become. At the same time I was interacting with others a tad obsessed with power and in some cases position.  I have never wanted to be lord and master with minions, slaves and serfs. Others like to lord it over; some like to be lorded over. I was not infected by his mood and intent.

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Power in its knowledge aspect is inconspicuous and not ostentatious. It is gathered and stored, rarely is it exercised. Depending on predilection one may gather like a squirrel. Personally I have always been interested in learning.

That time in the very first part of this century I was engaged in what hindsight suggests was my battle with power. Clearly the scale was rather local, but I was presented with many temptations, the trappings of power. Luckily, I was largely able to resist those temptations, those traps and did not become an “A” grade arse. Other people I knew may have been less resilient and perhaps fell to the traps, the whims of power.

The thing is that power and evil have a kind of symbiotic relationship. Power is the lure; the bait of evil who can tie an appropriate fly for whatever fish it seeks. Evil ever the strategist and craftsman can, when and if needed, be subtle.

In modern days the notion of evil has become quasi-taboo which is testament to the guile and skill of evil.

I do not pretend to know the mind of the dark adepts and those drawn to them. The more evolved of them, aware of much, must make a calculation pertaining to death. That calculation at one level must offset the difficulty of transition with the perceived reward of a life of power. Only they would be able to comment if they have struck a good deal, made a good bargain.

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I personally, this afternoon, in the middle of the day, am ready. In a sense I have already embraced my death.

There is a chance that you and I will meet gain at the hour of your death. You can decide for yourself if that is some morbid shit I made up, or not…

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“Don’t know where
Don’t know when
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day”

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