Tag: book

Reset – Peaceful Warrior – Healing Dream 27-11-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had after a bit of OxyNormORO morphine to help with pain. From around 5 AM. Prior to the dream I have been contemplating on what the post-operative reset might be like. What was going on before the operation is distant and what may lay ahead is unclear. I am half anticipating a complete reset / rescale.

The dream starts with me wandering around Brixton London where I used to live. I bump into Ben G whom I have not seen for more than 25 years. He is dressed in a suit and looks stressed out and busy. I suggest that we go into the pub {Prince of Wales} opposite the Ritzy cinema. {I did in fact bang into him around here many years ago}. We go in and start having a chat. He starts to thank me for the help and caring I gave in the past. He says that some of the things I said to him have stood him in good stead during times of trouble. I say that I have a good idea of the book that will help him now. It is “The Peaceful Warrior” by Dan Milman. * I say that I will meet him for coffee later in the week near where he works in the city and bring the book for him. He is pleased to have re-made acquaintance as am I.

The scene changes and I am heading up Brixton hill to a multiple occupancy building like my old flat. I open the front door and the scene is chaotic with multiple people coming and going there. There are two women reminiscent of people from Science outreach, Melanie and Jody. As usual they are “all over the shop”. They want to show me how they have renovated the building. We go into various flats and I politely say “um, yes that is nice”. We go back into my flat and they want to make an appointment to meet later on. I say that I cannot that I am ill, I think it might be pneumonia. They don’t hear nor understand how ill I am. I shoo them off with a promise to call.

I go back into my “flat” it is largely not unpacked. Stuff is in boxes. In the garden out back there is a pond / open water swimming pool. I meet Russell Crowe there and we are sat chatting in the water. He says that he is struggling with his alcohol problems. I say that I have not drunk in near a year and that is was a never a problem for me in the usual way. For me it was all about boredom. He does not believe me. We sit there for a while enjoying the summer sunset.

I go back to my flat and start to look for the telephone number for the GP. I can’t find my address book. I am pretty sure that the Brixton Hill practice will have a number on line. I am reminded of Dr “Depardieu” who helped me in the mid-90s.  I find the number and call for an appointment. I am resolved to take some time out just for myself and let everybody else deal with their own worries.

The dream ends

* In “The Peaceful Warrior” which was a gateway book for me, Dan an arrogant Berkley gymnast bumps into a spiritual mentor “Socrates” who tries to get him to be real and to “take out the trash”. Dan being a bit of a bellend ends up crashing his motor cycle and badly fracturing his leg. Dan goes through an intensive recovery which tests his mettle and ends up competing at the highest level. Dan has to overcome his self-importance and impatience.

Tadgh Gwen – Geiriadur – Forerunner – Museum Dream 02-04-2025

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Here are last night’s dreams the first was between 1.00 and 3:30 AM and the second more extensive though more jumbled dream around 5 AM.

The dream starts in an ill-defined place. There are no buildings or land or people. Somehow it is misty, foggy even. There is a sense of marshland, of primordial, of essence. Though none can be seen. I am having a “conversation” with a disembodied voice, a being of considerable power yet no form as we know it. He says that I am Tegwen Taig-Gwen Tadh-Gwen and Tadgh-Gwen. That I am in the Geiriadur, the dictionary, the tally of words. {Implicit is Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru.} There are many other names for me.

I know that gwen is white. I am white and of the white.

He says that I am the appetizer, the canapé, the hors d’oeuvre. I am the forerunner, the harbinger. One of only a very few. He says that I have borne the brunt and that there is more to come.

I wake up and take an Ibuprofen at around 3:30 AM to ease the back pain which I know is to follow soon.

I drift back off. I am now carrying an old cloth bound book which is in a state of disrepair. I can smell the book. I approach a reception desk in a university / museum setting. It is a bit like the V&A and Imperial College rolled into one. I speak with the woman on the desk who is dressed in serving black and whites with white gloves on. I say that I am looking for Dr X {I cannot recall the name}. She says that he has offices on the sub floor one. I can use the lift or the stairs. I know that I also have to visit sub-floors four and then seven.

–

–

I take the stairs down. I can see that sub floor one extends over all of the Exhibition Road area, underpinning all the museums and colleges, as well as the Albert Hall. The subterranean levels are vast and very extensive. There are galleries of books and files with dusty museum drawers. I make my way to the office. The door is open but he is not there. There is a lot of messy “horizontal filing”.

I let myself in and on a large Admiralty style table is a yellowed “Victorian” map yellowed about the edges. There is a steel rule and a set of geometry compasses. There is a second book which is companion to mine. I open it carefully with the steel ruler. The book opens on a page with mathematical symbols and matrices. I understand them to be spatial coordinates of places.

I go for a wander along the corridor. I find what looks to be a theatrical store of costumes, of clothing. I go in. The clothes are all for males. They are of a fashion from well over a century ago. There are breeches for riding and social. There is a pair of light red-magenta leather trousers, faded with age with hand shaped back pockets. There is a sudden realisation that these are my favourite trousers for when I used to ride. The wardrobe is in fact mine as is the office / desk / admiralty table.

I continue on down to the fourth sub floor. There is a large open gallery with military equipment. In the centre of the room is a display from which various staffs and pikes point out. There are more than a dozen such items all held like cocktail sticks in a lemon. With the shaft in an ornate metal holder. I select a large white-wood staff around six-feet in length. It has ornamentation on each end with metal inlays. I feel the familiar weight of the staff and find its centre of gravity. I start to twirl the staff and practise a stick form kata. There is a very Japanese vibe. Very quickly it becomes more familiar and faster.

I know in the dream that several people younger and fitter than me are coming to attack me. They have no idea about what I am capable of.

The dream shifts to a modern setting. I am sitting with M in a modern seminar room equipped with computers etc.. We are pouring over the mathematical notes and he is going to try to write some computer code to decipher them. I say to him that we must approach the notes from two angles, one scientific and the other seeing.

The dream ends.

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Notes

Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru – Welsh University Dictionary

Tegwen name – from teg (“fair”) +‎ gwen (“blessed”) in the 19th century.

Gwen – white, blessed, holy

Tadhg in Welsh is Taliesin or poet.

Taliesin is the seer poet initiate of Welsh history /myth. He is often seen as Myrddrin which the English have translated as Merlin and claimed the mythology as their own.

Cultural appropriation!!

Myrddin Wyllt (Welsh: —”Myrddin the Wild”, Cornish: Merdhyn Gwyls, Breton: Marzhin Gouez)

Brocade Book – Occult – Dream 8-9-16

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Here is last night’s dream

I am in some kind of mansion or Chateau. The rooms are dimly lit by candles and gaslight. The furniture is period. The walls are dressed in curtain like hangings stretching floor to ceiling. The colour is a boudoir red / purple. There is a sense of fading Victorian even tsarist grandeur. In the distance I can hear a social function, a party. There are harpsichords playing, laughter and chatter. I wander around the room; it is well-kept but overly opulent and not to my liking. I walk past a table, with ornate carved legs and I trail my hand along the tabletop.

Next, I am in an ultra-modern museum which has a Germanic or Swiss feel. It is somehow on top of a mountain and very high up. The museum is minimalist. There are only a very few glass cabinets. They contain artefacts in gold and other metals. Each has a slip of paper in the cabinet with a date and a small explanation. Many of the artefacts are oriental, Buddhist and relate way back. They are very precious, and security is high. I come upon a case; it appears to be empty. In the case is a slip of white paper saying Dr A.G.Taylor and a list of the universities that he worked at. There is no date. I get excited and go to find the curator. I say to her that this is me…can I have look at what is in the exhibit? She puts on her white gloves and with a golden key attached to her neck chain she opens the drawer below the exhibit case. She pulls out a book, a much valued manuscript. It is kept out of sight to preserve it. It is about standard book size. The book has a cover, even a cage, of the finest golden filigree brocade, exquisitely carved and put together. It is in raised almost moving relief. The cover of the book is white and although not glossy it somehow shines. The whole thing shines and glows. It is radiant. She makes me put on white gloves and hands it to me. I marvel at the book and open it. Both she and I know that it is I who wrote this book.

–

–

The scene changes to another room deep in the vaults of the museum. It is where all the treasures are kept. The floor is of white marble and the room has two levels split by a small half staircase. At the staircase are wall length curtains held back by a fancy golden coloured tie. The curtains are of luxuriant red with a yellow gold coloured backing. I wander through the room looking at the artefacts. Many are to do with magic of both light and dark varieties. I instinctively know which is which and what they are for. As I wander through the room, I get the sensation of something, some being, watching me. I know that it is not benign. So, I “swell up” and fill myself with energy. I open my hands so as to distribute {if needed} and say out loud. “I know you are there, show yourself!!” It is an occult command of very high order. The curtains at the stair flutter in the breeze and I know that whatever it was, it has gone.

The dream ends. I know that it is highly significant. I pause to recollect and store it. I go back to sleep.

On typing today the word Grimoire popped into mind.