Malta German – Cat – South African Problem – Rand Account – Dream 19-02-2026

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Here are last night’s dreams. They are thematically divergent from the recent flow.

The wife and I are in Malta. We are wandering around a built up area with alleys off the main street it is possibly Valetta. We are looking for somewhere to have lunch. Down a side alley I see a chalked up slate easel menu board. We go to investigate. There is a Germanic old-school style café with pastries in the window, a bar and a few tables. The patron is a tall man with a white low apron and is sporting a full moustache. We look at the menu and go in. I go up to the counter and start to try to order in German. I am looking for a sausage in a long roll. There are several kinds. The man is very happy that I am trying German. In a mixture of mostly German and some English I complete my order, the wife orders in English. Soon the host comes over to our table with our food. Again we try German. It gets easier but I still cannot remember the German for sausage. The host is very happy with me and effusive.

I come to and I too am very happy, inordinately, that I was able to remember German in the dream. The word wurst comes to me and it makes me laugh. It is weird to be so happy about remembering German.

I drift back off and am in a veranda of sorts it is like a pod off the side of a house, with many facets, more sides than a hexagon. I don’t know whose veranda it is. Outside the garden runs down to a small river or brook. The veranda is in a bit of disrepair. The glass panels do not fit well. Outside on the window ledges is a cat. It is trying to get in to the veranda. As it moves to a gap in the window panes I readjust the panes so it cannot get it. This becomes something of a game between me and the cat. There will always be a gap because of the state of repair. We play this game for a long time.

I come to and wonder if the dream is pointing at some practical tasks that keep cropping up.

I drift off and am now in an office which is quite serious. I am looking at some paper work about extensive legal problems someone is having in South Africa. That person James cannot do anything about these problems whereas I might. The documentation is extensive and it is about a debt that he and others ran up. There are also share certificates and summons from courts. It is a huge mess and the paper trail is very extensive. There is a lawyer there who asks if I would like to help out. It looks like a minefield but I have the power to assist. I may be able to pay the fines to at least deal with the court summons. James is unaware of the dire situation he is in and the consequences thereof. He is not taking it seriously.

The scene changes and I am at an outside event with barbecues and an entertainment stage. Cars are parked around pub garden tables. It feels UK. There are people using the brai to cook. I have a sudden urge for an ice cream from one of the vans. I order one and go to pay. I cannot find my wallet. The man said I may have dropped it last night when I was drunk. I look on the floor in front of the van and find several wallets and several torches which I put on the ice cream van counter. One of them is my normal wallet. It is soaking wet. I open it and it is jammed full of pristine South African rand, mostly of high denomination. I peel off a few notes and hand the man a R80 note. Which he takes. He asks me about what I am going to do with all my dormant South African bank accounts. Many or which are full and could be filled from other South African sources. I say that I was planning on closing them down. He is now speaking in an Afrikaans accent and suggests that I let them fill up for a while and then decide what to do. If the account wants to fill with money where is the harm in that. I say to him that money and by extension power are not currently how I live. They seem distant. He laughs and say that despite this I still have a wallet crammed full of pristine soaking wet rand!!

The dream ends.

Food Mixer – Pilate – Carrier Pigeon Dream – 18-02-2026

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Here is this morning’s short dream.  Here Pilate is a term for unwillingness to take responsibility and only going through the motions

The scene opens with the wife and I visiting a large upmarket store. I am carrying a swish food processor / mixer which we have recently bought. It is not working properly and does not do a good job of blending food. We go to the appropriate department and explain that we would like it fixed, or an alternative model or a refund. It is not our fault that this mixer is not working.

The person behind the desk takes it off us and takes some contact details. He is being officious in French and I can see that he is a reluctant “job’s worth” character.  Instead of wanting to help and please the customer he exudes “put upon” and “do I have to” almost sulking. Moreover he is arrogant towards us because we are “English”. I explain to him that I am very unhappy with the mixer and that they need to sort this out, quick-time. He gets increasingly surly and promises that someone will get in touch with us. From his manner I can tell that this is unlikely. He just wants us away from his desk, out of sight and out of mind. I will not hold my breath.

We go downstairs in the shop and find a cafeteria. We join the line, order and pay for coffees and sit at a table. Suddenly the ‘phone rings and it is someone in the electronic goods department saying that they have “fixed” the mixer. We finish our coffees and head back.

Several people are there around what was our mixer base but with a smaller volume mixing jug. They claim it now works. In a mixture of French and English I explain that the reason that we bought the bigger jug was for the larger volume. We already have a stick mixer for small volumes.

They are upset because they have not instantaneously solved the problem. One of the young Frenchmen puts a blender jug, which I know to be ours, on the mixer base. He claims that it is one from the stores. He loads it with some food including sweet corn. He turns it on and it appears to work. I know it is just rotating the mixture and only part liquifying it. He says, “look it is working”. I say to him that he had better pour the results out into a bowl. This he does. It contains some liquid and mostly unmixed food including sweet corn kernels. I say to him that the mixer does not work. He is adamant that it does. I asks him if the contents look well mixed. He says no. I ask him if he thinks the mixer works. He says yes a bit. We are at an impasse. He just wants us out of his shop and is unable to offer any way forward. We stand there in an awkward silence in which he gets increasingly uncomfortable. His colleagues have disappeared. They do not want to solve the problem they want rid of us. They want to wash their hands of it.

The scene fades. I am left with the strong visual image of a carrier pigeon with a small white message tube tied with two thin white cords to its left leg. The pigeon is in good condition and athletic looking. It is a messenger pigeon.

The dream ends.

Spooky – Who Are You ? – Gwrach

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Last night we watched an episode of “Who Do You Think You Are?” with Greg Davies.

His search was uncanny in similarity to mine Tremadog , Nantmor etc.. It was so close as to be spooky. He visited places I know well.

So I have been back on the ancestry bus.

In 1841 one of my relatives lived here..

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Somewhere between Sygyn Bach and Cae Du at Sygyn Isaf {not shown on the map}.

Here is the mill…centre left on the map.

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It is rumoured than one of my realtives was a witch…

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Taliesin – Radiant Brow – Illuminated Ajna Centre

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Taliesin (6th century AD) was an early Brittonic poet of Sub-Roman Britain whose work has possibly survived in a Middle Welsh manuscript, the Book of Taliesin. Taliesin was a renowned bard who is believed to have sung at the courts of at least three kings. Taliesin means “shining brow” in Welsh.

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« Le nom Tallysin (parfois orthographié Talliesin) est dérivé de la langue galloise, où il se traduit par “sourcil brillant” ou “front radieux”. L’étymologie reflète une combinaison des mots gallois *talo*, signifiant briller, et *sien*, signifiant sourcil ou front. Ce nom est souvent associé à la lumière, à la brillance et à une présence notable, évoquant souvent un sens de mystère et de richesse culturelle.

Tallysin est surtout associé à un personnage de la mythologie et de la littérature galloises, en particulier dans les œuvres du barde du VIe siècle Taliesin. Taliesin était une figure légendaire qui a servi en tant que poète de cour et qui était crédité d’un vaste corpus de poésie, dont une grande partie concernait la mythologie, l’histoire et les louanges des nobles patrons. Son histoire est imprégnée de thèmes magiques, y compris la transformation et la renaissance. Le nom a perduré à travers les siècles, devenant emblématique de l’inspiration artistique et de la sagesse dans le folklore gallois. »

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Regional Nepotism in Buddhist Narratives ?

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Although my mother, when  sun tanned could negotiate discounts from the Indian traders in the market in Gravesend, I am not of Indian nor Asian genetics. If she wore a sari and a bindi she could pass as Sikh. Yes one could say the Celtic migration had a terminus in a valley to the South East of Snowdown. I was however born a ginge…

As an outsider I note how many so-called previous lives of Buddha are in the general geo-location of Northern India – Himalayas- Afghanistan. He is often a prince and sometimes Brahmin. I note that the vast majority of Tulku rebirths are in Tibet – Nepal – North India – Bhutan area. If not there then there must be some familial nepotism.  Tulku begets tulku out of some follower or nun. I have never heard of a Viking incarnation. Once Buddhism spread East we did not get a sudden burst of Icelandic Bodhisattvas. The streets of Rio were not awash with them dancing at carnival.

My scientific mind notes this discrepancy. It seems unbalanced.

Surely a Bodhisattva reincarnating for the benefit of all sentient beings would not restrict themselves geographically or demographically?  Global impact in isolated countries high up in the mountains is not likely to be high. Skilful means suggests ploughing other wider fields.

There is a kind of perhaps spiritual snobbery. After all the Vedas and Buddhism predate Christianity and Islam. Only the pilgrim skilled in meditation, asceticism and vegetarianism can get enlightened. Beer and twice cooked chips are verboten, interdit. Turmeric is a must.

It is illogical that someone should only be born in the same geolocation if they are to garner a wider experience. If you have not tried rollmop and aquavit…you have missed something.

This for me seems slightly problematic in the around the camp fire tales of Buddha. The other problem I have is with the notion of many Buddhas stretching back millennia. The human vehicle was according to archaeology not as intellectually advanced and capable. All those millennia ago it did not look human.

How could a Buddha be Neanderthal?

There is an evidenced based narrative chronology which errs from the verbatim understanding of canon and Mahayana canon more so. If these are meant to be metaphor and parable, there is less problem.

Nevertheless is seems strange that Buddha only hung out there or thereabouts…

Not Career Threatening…

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This blog is not, for me, career threatening. I do not have to worry about people thinking me whacko or fruit loop. It will not affect my ability to get a job nor secure any research grant income. I do not have to publish or perish, nor do I have to suck up to others in order to secure a conference invite which would enable me to profess in public about my work. I do not have to furnish evidence of peer esteem. There is no performance related metric in which I am obliged to demonstrate citation number or H-index.

It is a more moot point whether it might inhibit venture capital funding. Given my age and inactivity that is highly unlikely anyway.

I don’t have hordes of social media followers nor am I in “the” media. I have no media presence which could be cancelled on the baying whim of the horde or hive. I am not at risk of losing monetised social media content.

There is no compulsion for me to firm up or write down my ideas. In an academic sense at the age of 61 it is highly unlikely that I could come up with anything new. I am well past my sell by date and the best before has receded into the dim mists of history.

Over the years I have emailed a dozen or so current academics about dreaming and to date only one has replied. An interaction with me is  perhaps career threatening for them…

On the cards this week is more DIY in the yellow kitchen. I have nearly finished the deep {using chemicals} clean which means we are good to go with the paint and decorate.

Being and old fart is less stressful…

Atlantean Artefacts – Karate -Scorpion Sting – Quantisation – Dream Snippets 15-02-2026

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Here are last night’s dreams / snippets. I’ll hazard a guess that the juxtaposition is unique to me.

The dream opens is a large ornate voluminous room of a museum. The place is gilded and golden shiny in hue. It is a bit chavvy. The place is however filled with a luminous light golden radiance which not everyone can see. I understand the rooms to be filled with artefacts from the recently uncovered Atlantis. The interpretations of the archaeologists are all wrong because they never lived there. I am wandering around with a man who feels like a much younger version of Théun and with Adrian. They are showing me around. They are trying to impress me. We are having fun and marvelling.  We have the run of the place tonight. Amongst the collection are a number of geodes of startling beauty, some meteorites and some special meteorite-geodes. I know these were used to facilitate communication across distances. There are other things which are unknown to modern day but which seem familiar to me. The whole orientation of that society cannot be understood in terms of 21st century reasoning. I am aware that there are other Atlantean artefacts held in secret elsewhere in the world. There is a good chance that I can remember what their purpose and use was.  

The scene now changes to a modern office environment. Terry is there. He is trying to get me to do his bidding. I think that his ideas are foolish particularly with respect to Japan. He is getting increasingly agitated with me. He says, “I will show you”. He proceeds to attack me with a very rigid straight line / right angles form of power Karate. It is very easy to block, avoid and get out of the way. By my using a more fluid circular approach he is unable to land any punches or kicks in any meaningful way. This only increases his frustration and anger at me. He is positively seething. I think him a rigid arse, a dinosaur stuck in his mind and narrative.

The scene changes and I am out in the bright sunlit desert with people who are younger than me. They are lanky men, a few of them, all taller than me. Suddenly one of them with brown wavy hair and a slight  American accent yelps out in pain. He feels familiar to me. I can see he has a large scorpion attached to the arch of his right bare foot via the embedded sting. He is screaming in pain and thrashing about in panic. I go over to him and ask him to calm down. I sit him on a rock. Taking the large hand sized scorpion in my hand I try to pull the sting out of the tender arch of his foot. It will not budge. I conclude that the sting must have a fish hook like barb under the skin. It would ruin his foot to force it. I gesture to one of the others to get a plastic Tupperware like container. I pinch the tail of the sting between the thumb and forefingers of both hands holding the part near the sole unmoving I twist the scorpion so that the tail fractures and snaps. I hold in my hand the large scorpion and can see the residual sting head in the foot. I put the scorpion in the Tupperware and help the younger man hobble toward the 4X4 utility half truck vehicle. We are going to drive to the town to see the doctor replete with the scorpion for species identification purposes. The scorpion does not seem to be phased and is sitting calmly in the Tupperware. The younger man has calmed down as we sit him in the back of the ute.

The scene changes to a seminar room in a think tank in London. It is American tech. IT  funded and we are kicking ideas around. There are a lot of bright younger men and a few similar women. The meeting is being chaired by a young Bill Gates look alike figure with appropriate “Marks and Spencer” style jumper.

We are taking about the quantisation of optical transitions in molecules. I explain to him that I have never seen quantisation as being so rigid and step like, as it is deemed. I explain that I have seen these transitions as being a form of hyper resonance. These levels, these states are very favoured, highly resonant. But you can drive a resonance when slightly off the energy if the applied field is large enough or the theoretical linewidth bell shaped. People think only of rigid quantisation whereas a new formulation might be had with a fuzzy resonance type of approach. “Bill” says that he knows people who use ultrafast lasers to map out both ground and excited state potentials and that they have found a discomfort with the rigid quantisation approach too. He says that is what happens when you do inordinately difficult laser experiments. He is looking at a large A4 black and white map printout. He is trying to figure out where the funding has gone for this think tank and tries to locate it on the map. I suggest that he might look at Ireland. He says no. I look at the map again and can see Regent’s park and the beautiful posh stone terraces to the East of the park. I say that the map must be of central London.

The dream ends….

Pors Gwen – 14-02-2026

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Today the wind is from the North. This means a brief respite from all the wet coming in from the West.

So we went up to coast for a very brisk walk…

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Out of season the light and visibility can be good…

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The winter sun is low…

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There is not much traffic but there are warnings for wizard children crossing.

There is a new campus to Hogwarts opening soon.

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In summer many people get trapped on the islands by the tide.

The local newspapers often have news of rescues.

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“Oh shit, we had better move…”

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Cold wet feet…

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Lucky escape…

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A room with a view…you can’t get much closer to the sea than this.

Must be epic in a winter storm here.

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Imagine the waves crashing on this…

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Shame it was so very busy…

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