Serum Protein Electrophoresis (SPEP) Test

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I have been looking at results from these since December 2021 when the wife had her Myeloma diagnosis. There was a large monoclonal peak in the gamma globulin area, a characteristic “finger print”. I have seen dozens of these electrophoresis traces. Her therapy quickly reduced the monoclonal peak below the detection thresholds. The technique is key to the diagnosis of Myeloma and smouldering Myeloma.

My blood is having one of these tests done today. I have found that Canadian healthcare web sites have a nice balance of detail and not treating you as a numpty.

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South Tees Hospital Pathology

“Serum electrophoresis is essential in the investigation of suspected paraproteinaemia and immune deficiency. Characteristic patterns are also seen in the presence of an acute phase response, nephrotic syndrome, alpha 1 antitrypsin deficiency, inflammatory and infective disorders. SPE is performed on all specimens submitted for immunoglobulin quantitation to check whether the immunoglobulins are polyclonal or monoclonal proteins. Polyclonal increases are due to and increased activity of numerous different lymphocytes and are associated with a wide range of infectious and inflammatory diseases including liver disease. The main value in serum electrophoresis is detection of monoclonal immunoglobulins associated with lymphoid malignancy, myeloma or related haematological disorders. Since quantitative immunoglobulin measurements cannot differentiate between monoclonal and polyclonal immunoglobulins, paraprotein determination (monoclonal protein) must be carried out by quantitation of bands obtained on electrophoresis.”

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From https://myhealth.alberta.ca

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“The serum protein electrophoresis (SPEP) test measures specific proteins in the blood to help identify some diseases. Proteins are substances made up of smaller building blocks called amino acids. Proteins carry a positive or a negative electrical charge, and they move in fluid when placed in an electrical field. Serum protein electrophoresis uses an electrical field to separate the proteins in the blood serum into groups of similar size, shape, and charge.

Blood serum contains two major protein groups: albumin and globulin. Both albumin and globulin carry substances through the bloodstream. Using protein electrophoresis, these two groups can be separated into five smaller groups (fractions):

  • Albumin. Albumin proteins keep the blood from leaking out of blood vessels. Albumin also helps carry some medicines and other substances through the blood and is important for tissue growth and healing. More than half of the protein in blood serum is albumin.
  • Alpha-1 globulin. High-density lipoprotein (HDL), the “good” type of cholesterol, is included in this fraction.
  • Alpha-2 globulin. A protein called haptoglobin, which binds with hemoglobin, is included in the alpha-2 globulin fraction.
  • Beta globulin. Beta globulin proteins help carry substances, such as iron, through the bloodstream and help fight infection.
  • Gamma globulin. These proteins are also called antibodies. They help prevent and fight infection. Gamma globulins bind to foreign substances, such as bacteria or viruses, causing them to be destroyed by the immune system.

Each of these five protein groups moves at a different rate in an electrical field and together form a specific pattern. This pattern helps identify some diseases.

Serum protein electrophoresis is most often done to help diagnose and monitor a wide variety of conditions. These include:

  • Some forms of cancer.
  • Problems with the kidneys or liver.
  • Problems with the immune system.
  • Conditions that lead to poor nutrition.

High values

High values may be caused by many conditions. Some of the most common are shown here.

  • High albumin: Dehydration
  • High alpha-1 globulin: Infection; inflammation
  • High alpha-2 globulin: Inflammation; kidney disease
  • High beta globulin: Very high cholesterol; low iron (iron-deficiency anemia)
  • High gamma globulin: Inflammation; infection; liver disease; some forms of cancer

Low values

Low values may be caused by many conditions. Some of the most common are shown here.

  • Low albumin: Poor nutrition; inflammation; liver disease; kidney disease
  • Low alpha-1 globulin: Some genetic problems
  • Low alpha-2 globulin: Kidney disease; some cancers
  • Low beta globulin: Poor nutrition
  • Low gamma globulin: Problems with the immune system “

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Given the high levels of ferritin yet normal levels of transferrin in my blood, the primary screen has to be for liver disease. But the bullet point for cancer above has quite a list behind it. I guess that the beta globulins may be abnormal in some way because of Iron. Anything weird in the gamma region means more tests…There are rheumatological factors. The tests show inflammation. I don’t think at 100kg I class a malnourished.

Anything non-standard will mean more tests [probably].

I’ll speculate that more tests are somehow “on the cards”.

Ultra-vivid – Tablet – Nightclub Dream – 10-06-2025

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This dream from just before 3 AM was of a new kind for me.

The dream opens in a UK city centre where there are lots of old-style shopping arcades. It is late at night. We are very urban and centre of town. The streets are emptying into various nightclubs; there are kebab vans and food stalls.

I find myself in a poorly lit basement nightclub. It is cavernous and with a high specification sound system and light show. There are a lot of people there all much younger than me. The crowd is predominantly white though there are some people from Asian and African origin there. They all consider themselves the “in” crowd. The club is expensive, exclusive and elite.

I am sat in a booth with a tall skinny man dressed in a black goth suit with winkle picker shoes. He has a dyed black “Ramones” style haircut and is holding court.  He sees that I am less impressed than others so he slides a small jet black tablet or pill across the table towards me. It is shaped like the male part of a push button fastener and textured on the flat collar.

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He is leaning towards me and in a sense daring me to take it. He holds my gaze for a long time. I reach out and take the pill which I swallow with water. He eases himself back into his seat.

I can feel the pill start to “come up”. There is a bodily sensation of warmth and a sense of pupil dilation. I can feel my heart rate increase alarmingly and then calm. I am at first unsure if the heart will fail, then relax. I do not know what it is that I have swallowed. I feel fully alive almost immortal.

The room changes a little. I can see vividly all the people moving in time lapse and hear all of their conversations above the music. I see their “elite” faces extensively made up and styled as mask-like. Behind their facades I see their true natures. I can see animations of their motivations, fears and desires. It plays out in my mind’s eye. Despite the outer show many are deeply unhappy and some downright nasty.

I can hear some of their thoughts about each other. I see a young woman in a silver tasselled mini-dress look directly at me. I can hear her wondering what an old decrepit relic like me is doing in the midst of the young and the “it”. I can taste a hint of pity. She turns for comfort to those surrounding her.

Around the air, the mood, is of a concealed frantic below the outer show of glitz and hedonism. I realise it unwise to look at eyes because what I see behind is not pleasant nor calm. There is a stark vivid contrast between the outer and the inner.

The skinny man looks at me. I say that for the first time in years I need a cigarette because of what I have seen. In contrast to me he likes what the drug portrays, the darknesses within. It is where he lives and operates. He says that there is a news stand / booth outside which still sells cigarettes.

I leave the club and go to find the booth. I ask for a packet of cigarettes and the woman by the till says they are £20 a pack. I look down into my wallet and it is full of blue money notes amongst which is a £20 pound note.

I hand it to the woman who gives me a pack of cigarettes. I stand and look at the night time economy and its participants out on the streets in the early hours of the morning.

As I awake, I am almost tired by the vivid nature of the dream just had.

The dream ends.

Am I a Mutant?

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Tomorrow I am going to have genetic testing for hereditary haemochromatosis.

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“Haemochromatosis is caused by a faulty gene that can be passed on to a child by their parents.”

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“Predictive testing of individuals who have a family history of HH, in coordination with appropriate genetic counselling

This test detects the 2 common disease-causing variants in the HFE gene: C282Y (c.845G>A) and H63D (c.187C>G). The S65C variant will be reported only when it is observed as part of the C282Y/S65C genotype.”

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I have signed the form and given permission for any blood left over to be used for research purposes. I can’t undo the test nor unsee the results and if I am indeed a mutant there is a legal obligation for me to tell relatives in France. I can ask the GP to do this, if I want.

According to the NHS the disease is caused by a “faulty” gene, a bad pair of Levis. NHS speak is not always the most helpful and it is aimed low.

I will find out if I have the X-factor soon and if I can join the mutant army.

Because I have a proper nanna disease, osteoporosis, I am also having a whole bunch of other tests on my Thyroid function done.

Yesterday because we had mole sign, I set traps down by the edge of the pond. Today we went for a walk along a beach. Both of these are getting harder. In two weeks, I will find out if there is a possibility / likelihood of being able to have replacement hips. It is difficult to imagine what life might be like with some flexibility and reduced pain. There is no guarantee.

People selling hip surgery quote statistics like these:

“In general, the success rate for hip replacement surgery is high: About 95% of patients experience relief from hip pain. In one study, HSS interviewed patients to learn about their progress. Two years after their surgeries, 99.4% of patients said they had relief from pain, 98.8% said their ability to move was improved, and 97.8% said their quality of life was better because of their surgery.”

Because I am worth it…there is no big U for Unilever.

The Arthritis foundation says:

Pain Before and After Hip Surgery  

  • 90% – Of patients who had moderate pain before their first surgery reported mild or no pain after five years.  
  • 89% – Of patients with severe pain before their first surgery reported mild or no pain after five years.  

Limitations After Hip Surgery 

Some patients still have limitations after total hip surgery in activities like walking, climbing steps and getting in and out of a car. Seven percent of patients with moderate limitations and 20% with severe limitations before their first surgery still had severe limitations after five years. Among those having revision surgery, 13% who had moderate limitations and 30% with severe limitations reported severe limitations after five years – so 70% were doing well. 

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This is not such a rosy picture. I am on the younger end of the age spectrum despite officially qualifying as an “older person” now. This data is not age weighted. Given my level of medical comorbidities, I don’t have to worry about living another twenty years, so I will probably only need one set of joints. It clearly is not a universal holy grail or panacea for hip osteoarthritis.

In some sense I will have to place a bet. I will be betting that the surgery can happen, that it works and that I recover. I am betting that it will not kill me. My guess is that the second operation will be harder to handle and the likelihood of death during and afterwards higher. I am betting that I will feel better and more able, eventually, post-op. It will take a lot of time.

If I have HH I will probably be getting bled on a regular basis too.

It is possible that I may have some more fun to add to the medical merry-go-round pencilled in for summer. Colonoscopy, prostate PSA levels too high follow up {un toucher rectal} and French rheumatology are all in my diary upcoming. I need to have a full dental survey to rule out infection before I start on bisphosphonates for my brittle bones.

Blood tests often lead to more blood tests…maybe my Thyroid is shot too!

Hey-ho…

It would be a lot easier to take me out the back paddock and shoot me….

Social Blurring and Status Problems

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During the night I came up with this term “social blurring” to try to verbalize something which has seemed difficult to / with me in my social interactions. That is behaviour within the common social-conditioned view of the world. It is surprisingly difficult to put into words.

One could say that I do not have the “proper” respect for social position and authority. Nevertheless, I am law abiding, these days. I am pretty sure that I have put noses out of joint among those who consider themselves higher, better, more powerful than me.  I am not prone to arse licking or sycophancy. I do not play the itchy back game in a transactional sense.  I do not curry favour nor do I butter up. It is possible that this has been noted. People have gotten hoity-toity with me when I have not shown enough respect “due” to their position in society. In some cases, this has caused a punitive response, particularly when I was a precocious graduate student. I have reason to believe that this detrimentally affected my career. To me it is no big deal if someone is a famous Prof, a CEO or a King. I see the person and not the status.

Clearly there are social “problems” inherent in this attitude. A mere pleb did not ought to think like this and perhaps needs reminded of their position on the ladder of life. I do not appreciate my position in “the” pecking order as a serf.

Various people have said things to me which made little or no sense to me but seemed to make sense to them.

My mother, from the Rhondda valley, said that I behaved “to the manor born”. Which meant that I was a bit posh and at ease in posh places like expensive hotels and restaurants. Nchanga Consolidated Copper Mines paid for four years at an English private preparatory school. I had an itinerant childhood and thus became an adept chameleon. I never had a sense of not belonging in a posh place. I can walk into the Ritz and feel at ease. I have been on stage at The Royal Albert Hall. I can walk into expensive private homes and not feel at awe.

Twenty odd years ago Théun Mares said that I was an alpha male. I thought to myself what the fuck is he on about. He kept banging on about this and some wolf pack interpretation of status. It had never occurred to me that I am in any way alpha nor dominant. I have no desire to assert position nor have underlings. I do not need nor want to snarl to keep a pack in line. In this weird world view I am a lone wolf not a pack animal. I clearly do not exert or exude the boundaries others anticipate. I am not interested in being top dog nor will I be overly submissive either. I don’t get excited by the intrigue of power struggles, nor can I be arsed with them. As a consequence of not snarling people can take the piss. The boundaries are blurred. Some, so I am told, like clear boundaries and definition of position in pecking order.

When I was a lecturer, it never occurred to me that I had status and position, in that context. I saw myself as no better than the students and definitely not a font of all wisdom. I interacted in a manner similar to a third year graduate student with a first year graduate student. It was more working together than professing. When I left my job, it became abundantly obvious that there were elements of social positional power associated with that role and the institution in which I had been institutionalised. It was a big deal for some, whereas for me it was bog standard. The lines between staff and student were accidentally blurred. I saw them more as equals than underlings.

In a weird sense I am used to being listened to irrespective of social position, there may even be some residual expectation of that. This expectation is rarely met. I have mostly gotten used to it, though on occasion it can flare up particularly if the other person concerned is ignorant and yet adamant in their ignorance. Sometimes I fail to hold my tongue and I do not care what their social standing may be.

In general, I am not awed by social positions but may be socially awkward when in numbers. I just find the ritual sniffing or normal social interaction boring and pointless. This means that I do not satisfy apparent needs / requirements of others. I can seem like an odd fish. I have no need to brag and claim social ladder rung in consversation..

When I have had “power” I have not wielded it. Nor have I taken advantage of that power when I might have. Being a young man with a paper share value of £ 2 million has an impact on knicker elastic. I feel pretty sure in my self that I have been tempted by power and come out the other side relatively unscathed. I did not turn into a power crazed arsehole.

I keep coming back to a perception that somehow, I do not fit what others expect.

I do not see others as better than, higher than me. Nor do I see others as beneath me. I am no better. I may be more experienced and intelligent, but I am not above. It is a kind of egalitarianism which can make people uncomfortable. There are some who have deferred to me and others who are perennially spoiling for a fight as if to assert position in pecking order. A fight I have no interest in partaking in. It has been my perception that people who have thus engaged have failed to learn whatever it is that I might have taught them. The immediacy of perceived status and competition for it has blinded them. Some people want to bring me down, teach me a lesson.

Perhaps the overarching weirdness in this life has been the number of people who want to tell me something, argue the toss, try to convince me they are right and otherwise teach me.

“That’ll learn ‘im!”

It remains an unsolved mystery as to how and why others feel the burning pressing need to educate me.

Because I do not have strong demands or wants, I have been pliable and subject to manipulation. I rarely have an agenda in contrast to many.

On occasion people have looked to me to provide a lead, only later to undermine me when that lead has not been to their liking. I have come around to the idea that I like planning and envisioning way more than execution. I am certain that I am not cut out to provide any ongoing leadership role in a socio-political sense because I cannot be bothered with the social “niceties” and tedious transactional negotiations. I am not a sycophant nor am I prone to sycophancy. In terms of leadership, I can sustain that for very short terms only. Sooner or later its will go pear shaped because I am unwilling to play the “normal” games.

Quite how and why I was born with this set of self-perceptions may be due to prior incarnations, prior learned inclinations. The more I have meditated the less impressed with socio-political status and imagined kudos I become. The whole notion of “advancement” “position” and social rank escapes me. Even though for others I once had a little.

As far as I can tell my beingness and how I am interpreted by others do not match. There is nothing I can do about that. I have to reel myself in because if I let it go, fully, people might struggle.

I am socially a bit of an oddball. At first pass I seem OK, normal-ish. There is some blurring where social perception and shoe-horn expectation does not fit. My behaviour has been “status” inappropriate not in a criminal way, rather something which is mildly unsettling for others.

I don’t fit the social conditioned mould as well as a I might.

Big Cheeses and Kudos

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I’ll speculate that Herr Trump sees himself as a big cheese and wants people to kiss his ring. The orange don, Donald, has a big army, navy and air force. I doubt anyone looks forward with unbridled glee at the notion of a public meeting with him. These meetings are a necessary evil. He is not a pleasant man. In societal terms he is a high kudos being, though some may not wish to brag about their associations with him. He is not universally good PR. He can be bad for business. He has a lot of power.

Kudos is context specific. To a MAGA wannabe an endorsement from the “don” is manna from heaven.

We are watching recorded University Challenges on YouTube. Quite often there are questions on Nobel Prizes and Laureates. These prizes are high kudos and should you win one it will boost an academic salary and secure your job. Universities like the kudos of bragging about Nobel Laureates.

“Look at us we are special!”

Even though I was recently incarnated as a scientist I struggle to recall who won, with whom and for what. I have even met a few of these winners.

According to Professor Google there are / have been around one thousand Nobel Laureates. This means that England football captains are less common and world cup winning England football captains a positive rarity. In some {most} contexts football is more important and more significant than someone boffinacious. Aside from a few like Einstein, people know the faces of Beckham and Lineker better.

Lhamo Thondup the Tibetan tulku also known as Jetsun Jamphel Ngawang Lobsang Yeshe Tenzin Gyatso or H.H. Dalai Lama is one of only 14 reincarnations. To many in the world he is a high kudos being and his face is easily recognised. He has met Bush, Obama, Cameron and Merkel inter alia. It is good PR to be seen in his presence. He is a spiritual big cheese. He gets invites.

People can speak in awe of people like Friedrich Nietzsche. You must be brainy to read him. Strangely he played a big part in my interest in Buddhism

“Goodreads” attributes the following quotations to Nietzsche.

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“Sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth because they don’t want their illusions destroyed.”

“Truths are illusions which we have forgotten are illusions.”


― Friedrich Nietzsche

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In academic circles it is more accepted to quote him than Padmasambhava. The latter is a very high kudos figure in Tibetan Buddhism, a supposed Nirmanakaya of Buddha.

Many big cheese are also legends in their own lunchtimes, others are not, they are humbler than that. In the UK, research assessment exercises have sought to measure peer esteem or kudos. This is such a subjective thing and wholly non scientific yet those keen to get research grants played along with something close to a convenient heresy.

The ascribing of kudos is a very personal and hence subjective thing too. We have the phenomenon of fans who attach much kudos to their heroines or heroes. They may even pay for used clothing or bath water. Kudos is attached to corporeal relics of saints and Buddhas. The essence which may have once imbued the relic is long departed. Perhaps saints have way more than eight fingers and two thumbs so everyone can get a relic.

Despite the positional power which kudos affords in a socio-political sense it is not real. You cannot measure it with a laser and a detector. When you die you can’t take it with you.

People can make huge faux pas dancing upon the minefield of kudos. Kudos is another word for something we desire in a social-construct sense. We may seek recognition or affirmation from the herd, the shoal. Even if we are awarded with a measurable trinket, kudos is impermanent. One can fall from grace off one’s glittery platform shoes like Gary did. A fall from the lofty heights of kudos is difficult to bear.

We may hold things important which others do not. We may fail to attach importance to something revered by others. We may be arrogant in our notions of what is significant and to which we ascribe our personal kudos.

Trying saying kudos, kudos, over and over!! Very quickly is starts to sound silly.

Some people want to become important, significant big cheeses. Some imagine they already are. Many have a sense of grandiose entitlement.

Just as some want to be top dog others want to be a big cheese.

“If you thought $30 for a pound of blue cheese was expensive, wait till you hear how much this Spanish blue cheese just sold for.

Clocking in at $6,682 per pound, a wheel of Cabrales blue cheese from northern Spain earned the title of the world’s most expensive cheese after a 2.2 kg (4.85 lb) wheel was sold at auction for €30,000 ($32,408.10).

The auction took place at the 51st annual Cabrales Cheese Competition held in the Principality of Asturias. Bidding started at €3,000 and quickly rose as passionate turophiles battled for the right to own the first-place cheese.

In the end, restauranteur Iván Suárez won the prized wheel. Suárez told Spanish news outlet EFE that “the passion for the land” and “recognizing the work of all the cheesemakers” made him buy the cheese.”

New Record for World’s Most Expensive Cheese Josie Krogh | August 29, 2023

Faux Pas and Extracurricular Activities

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Faux Pas: a significant or embarrassing error or mistake: blunder

especially a socially awkward or improper act or remark

: an embarrassing social mistake

A faux pas literally means “wrong step” in French.

You could just use the term “fuck things up” instead, but if you wanna look classy, use “faux pas”.

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There is in human thinking the notion of social hierarchy where status and kudos are important. It is easy to misread these often unwritten pecking orders and clues. One can get things wrong. Some cultures are more sensitive than others to such mistakes. When pecking orders abut things can be indeterminate and the possibility for miscalculations high. To prevent error some societies, start with the concept of humility and perhaps “lower” themselves until the minefield is better understood and thereby negotiated.

A big cheese in one system is small fry in another. I found that in “business” and “industry”, for example, academics are not held in very high regard. A VC said to me that from time to time they do invest in a “prof in his garage” but that such things were very risky, early stage. A young Ph.D. student might see Prof. X, in his garage, as being near deity perhaps having aspiration to emulate and to join the Gods. Working across hierarchies and socially invented pecking orders can be tricky. Some prefer Stilton others Emmenthal. It takes all sorts.

Apparent power can be gained by association. A long time ago when on business selling some science ideas in Tokyo, I was on a mission from my then Sensei to hunt down any video / film footage of various “obscure” old-school Iaidō masters. I was given some text in Japanese and the addresses of various martial arts shops dotted around Tokyo. Sensei was an advanced practitioner of various Ryu and Japanese trained. These shops were well off the beaten track and some had a dōjō associated. On a number of occasions on furnishing the Japanese text the shopkeeper called into the back and an older Japanese man came out to help me. They took the task very seriously and furnished me with more “leads”. It was obvious that I had kudos / respect by association even though I was a low grade student. It was the Ryu and his mastery that conferred. I was ultra polite and very careful so as not to bring disrespect and dishonour. They were very keen to help and found it interesting that Sensei was teaching in a small classical dōjō in London. I knew that disrespect might, if gotten out of hand, prove fatal. It was all very good natured and fun. No faux pas was made and allowance was made for my gaijin degrees of gauche.

At the time I was a lecturer in physical chemistry and soon to be start-up co-founder. Nobody where I worked could possibly have understood all the subtleties of what my major extracurricular activity was. This was more important to me, in some senses, than my job!!

We really do not know what is going on for others. There is a back story for most about which we are very largely ignorant and unaware. It is easy to barge around like a bull, on amphetamines, in a China shop and make huge fuck ups. The more arrogant and know-it-all we are the more likely it is.

Like a frog in the bottom of a well people can be a big-Gouda in their silo unaware that there are oceans out there. People are blind and blinkered in their silos. You can try to tell a well dweller about life outside the well but they may not accept that such a thing exists. In the absence of six-sigma proof they will deem extra-well existence impossible and mere conjecture, pseudoscience even. Because they have not seen an ocean, they will not accept your stories about them. Their adamant insistence means that they will probably never have the experience. They will go to their “graves” saying “I told you so. I am right. Oceans are figments of imagination!”

If someone unaccustomed to an ocean goes swimming therein, it is easy for them to get out of their depth. They may not have had this experience before and the notion of being out of their depth is alien to their omniscience. If you say, “careful you are out of your depth”, they are likely to pooh-pooh and disregard. When they get tired and can no longer swim, panic can set in. Being out of their depth they do not know how to proceed.

In general, I have found that trying to warn people that they are stepping into something they do not understand is fruitless. You warn, are assumed weird and a numpty. They disregard the warning and proceed full steam ahead into clusterfuck territory. There is nothing you can do, if an arrogant person needs that experience, who am I to rob them of it? By definition it is impossible to teach a self-diagnosed omniscient or know-it-all, anything.

People in silos or wells are ignorant of life outside the well but they don’t know it nor will they accept it.

If for example you were a skilled physical chemist accustomed to using synchrotron radiation to elucidate the properties of lipid membranes and you were thrust into the midst of a Vajrayana demon banishing ritual it is unlikely that you would take it seriously and believe. You might think it quaint and an indigenous ritual. You would not feel nor note the exorcism. After all synchrotrons are more real and more important than Vajrayana magic.

Maybe one day you might on a whim play with a Ouija board. Because you know best there would be no danger of you opening a portal and allowing a demon in, to feed off your aura and possess you.

People do not understand that “expertise” does not travel well between contexts and worlds. And if you are sufficiently ignorant to make the faux pas of pissing off a demon, there could be hell to pay, literally.

But of course, outside of your well, demons do not and cannot exist, you are adamantly correct about this, are you not?

Hip Pin Removal – Jersey Incentives – Russian Passport Dream – 07-06-2025

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Here is last night’s dream.

The dream starts in a medical consultation on the island of Jersey. I am with the wife in a consultation room and a male doctor is looking at the x-rays of my left hip on an old fashioned backlit viewer. He is discussing that it is bad practice to leave a Titanium implant in long after the joint has recovered. It will make operating on my hip more difficult. He shows the extra bits of bone he will have to chip away.

The scene now changes to some kind of real estate / lawyers / Jersey corporation offices. We are consulting about moving to Jersey and the locals are offering an incentive for us so to do. They are explaining the ins and outs of buying property in Jersey, the law concerning company set ups and tax advantages. They mention local investment incentives and what kind of residency permits we might need in order to buy property. They say that it is best to be very thorough at the start.

The scene changes and I am on transport to Russia. It is not a train or a plane but somehow somewhere in between. A man in Russian army uniform with a big wide brimmed army hat is walking along the aisles checking passports. He gets to my row and ushers me to stand up in the aisle. He asks to see my passport. I give him by current blue-black one. In it is a special small visa document. He asks me the recent history of my passport applications. I say that I applied in Farnham and then in France. He looks at the passport and says that it is in order. He looks at the visa and reads it. He says, “Doctor Taylor we will be very pleased to welcome you to our motherland Russia!” He clicks his heels together, salutes and hands my passport back. I thank him and sit back down in my seat.

The dream ends.

Gateway to the Nagual’s World – South the place of Dreaming

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In my case, don Juan wanted an omen before he taught me the ritual. That omen came when don Juan and I were driving through a border town in Arizona and a policeman stopped me. The policeman thought I was an illegal alien. Only after I had shown him my passport, which he suspected of being a forgery, and other documents, did he let me go. Don Juan had been in the front seat next to me all the time, and the policeman had not given him a second glance. He had focused solely on me. Don Juan thought the incident was the omen he was waiting for.

His interpretation of it was that it would be very dangerous for me to call attention to myself, and he concluded that my world had to be one of utter simplicity and candor – elaborate ritual and pomp were out of character for me. He conceded, however, that a minimal observance of ritualistic patterns was in order when I made my acquaintance with his warriors. I had to begin by approaching them from the south, because that is the direction that power follows in its ceaseless flux. Life force flows to us from the south, and leaves us flowing toward the north. He said that the only opening to a Nagual’s world was through the south, and that the gate was made by two female warriors, who would have to greet me and would let me go through if they so decided.

He took me to a town in central Mexico, to a house in the countryside. As we approached it on foot from a southerly direction, I saw two massive Indian women standing four feet apart, facing each other. They were about thirty or forty feet away from the main door of the house, in an area where the dirt was hard-packed. The two women were extraordinarily muscular and stern. Both had long, jet-black hair held together in a single thick braid. They looked like sisters. They were about the same height and weight – I figured that they must have been around five feet four, and weighed 150 pounds. One of them was extremely dark, almost black, the other much lighter. They were dressed like typical Indian women from central Mexico – long, full dresses and shawls, homemade sandals.

Don Juan made me stop three feet from them. He turned to the woman on our left and made me face her. He said that her name was Cecilia and that she was a dreamer. He then turned abruptly, without giving me time to say anything, and made me face the darker woman, to our right. He said that her name was Delia and that she was a stalker. The women nodded at me. They did not smile or move to shake hands with me, or make any gesture of welcome. Don Juan walked between them as if they were two columns marking a gate. He took a couple of steps and turned as if waiting for the women to invite me to go through. The women stared at me calmly for a moment. Then Cecilia asked me to come in, as if I were at the threshold of an actual door.

Don Juan led the way to the house. At the front door we found a man. He was very slender. At first sight he looked extremely young, but on closer examination he appeared to be in his late fifties. He gave me the impression of being an old child: small, wiry, with penetrating dark eyes. He was like an elfish apparition, a shadow. Don Juan introduced him to me as Emilito, and said that he was his courier and all-around helper, who would welcome me on his behalf.

It seemed to me that Emilito was indeed the most appropriate being to welcome anyone. His smile was radiant; his small teeth were perfectly even. He shook hands with me, or rather he crossed his forearms and clasped both my hands. He seemed to be exuding enjoyment; anyone would have sworn that he was ecstatic in meeting me. His voice was very soft and his eyes sparkled.

We walked into a large room. There was another woman there. Don Juan said that her name was Teresa and that she was Cecilia’s and Delia’s courier. She was perhaps in her early thirties, and she definitely looked like Cecilia’s daughter. She was very quiet but very friendly. We followed don Juan to the back of the house, where there was a roofed porch.

It was a warm day. We sat there around a table, and after a frugal dinner we talked until after midnight. Emilito was the host. He charmed and delighted everyone with his exotic stories. The women opened up. They were a great audience for him. To hear the women’s laughter was an exquisite pleasure. They were tremendously muscular, bold, and physical. At one point, when Emilito said that Cecilia and Delia were like two mothers to him, and Teresa like a daughter, they picked him up and tossed him in the air like a child.

Of the two women, Delia seemed the more rational, down- to-earth. Cecilia was perhaps more aloof, but appeared to have greater inner strength. She gave me the impression of being more intolerant, or more impatient; she seemed to get annoyed with some of Emilito’s stories. Nonetheless, she was definitely on the edge of her chair when he would tell what he called his “tales of eternity.” He would preface every story with the phrase, ‘Do you, dear friends, know that. . . ?’

The story that impressed me most was about some creatures that he said existed in the universe, who were the closest thing to human beings without being human; creatures who were obsessed with movement and capable of detecting the slightest fluctuation inside themselves or around them. These creatures were so sensitive to motion that it was a curse to them. It gave them such pain that their ultimate ambition was to find quietude. Emilito would intersperse his tales of eternity with the most outrageous dirty jokes. Because of his incredible gifts as a raconteur, I understood every one of his stories as a metaphor, a parable, with which he was teaching us something.

 Don Juan said that Emilito was merely reporting about things he had witnessed in his journeys through eternity. The role of a courier was to travel ahead of the Nagual, like a scout in a military operation. Emilito went to the limits of the second attention, and whatever he witnessed he passed on to the others.

From “The Eagle’s Gift” by Carlos Castaneda, Part Three.