Intricate Pasta – Boris Johnson’s Puzzle – Butterflies Dream 20-02-2025

Here is this morning’s dream

The dream opens with Boris Johnson sitting at a large rustic wooden kitchen table in an ample farmhouse style kitchen with Aga and range. On the table is a pasta making machine. On two wire racks, one elevated and the other just above table level are two circular pieces of pasta. They are around 30cm in diameter and dried. The pasta is whole meal. The pasta is shaped into a kind of intricate relief design in which there are very fine, filagree designs. There is more air than pasta. I know that the designs are very brittle. Carrie is there but not to the fore.

I am sat at the table with Boris. The pasta machine starts up and a third pasta circle comes out in normal flour pasta. It slides onto the metal tray of the pasta machine. Both Boris and I know that the pasta is Boris’ puzzle to solve and that now it is three dimensional. He wants to get started and solve the puzzle. I remind him that the pasta is delicate and that the third piece has not yet set. Under no circumstances should he rush.

I look at his watch, it says 5:35. I know that he has an upcoming meeting. He looks at the watch and says that he must dash. Carrie pipes in and says yes, otherwise they will be late. Implicit is that Boris’ timekeeping is not great. They depart.

Sometime later I am walking in the / my garden. Boris and Carrie are eating a packed lunch with a thermos of tea in a sunny clearing. Boris is unburdened and light, somehow younger. The atmosphere is relaxed. They are the other side of a partial fence to me. On my side there are a multitude of butterflies, all different colours, yellows and purples, reds and blues. All the butterflies are large the size of my hand or bigger. They are partially shaded. Boris asks if the direct sunlight is good for the butterflies. I say that they are happy. At dusk they yield to the moths who come out in force.

I walk to a covered bridge made out of metal. The ceiling of the bridge is around ten feet high, and it is spacious. It starts near where Boris is having the picnic. A very large purple, indigo and red butterfly flies towards me and gives my face, which it envelops a hug with its wings. It is the size of my head. I can see its eyes and antennae. We start to talk in a very high-pitched butterfly language, with the butterfly now flying very close to my face. We are looking at each other as we speak.

Boris is astounded. I explain to him that I can talk to butterflies and moths. If he wants, we can help him with his puzzle.

The dream ends.

Trap – Butterfly Feet – Dream – 09 – 01 -2012

I am in a foyer of a terminus which if full of coffee shop type outlets. People are climbing up the outside of staircases. These are young athletic women. I try my hand at chasing them. I am faster than them. We get to the other side and one of them sits on a table fingering herself in front of me. I ignore this gesture. The women try to surround me and cajole me. They try to take my rucksack. It is a trap and I break free.

I am now dumped in a makeshift prison cell with another man. There are four other men naked in there and they are all covered with sores. Their faces are misshapen, they are very large and hairless. One of them is threatening me. We shall see how long he lasts in here. I am unafraid because I know that I am stronger than he is. The attendants come in and introduce a creature which will work on my sores. It starts nibbling my sores and will join them up. I am advised to keep my eyes shut. There is discomfort but not pain.

I am now attending a series of parties which are somehow in a swish part of London. They are in an upstairs flat. Everyone is very trendy and my party piece is to show them my feet. At first my feet look normal. Soon though on each foot two pairs of butterfly wings unfold. Each pair is mis-matched in colour. There is a sense that each pair is a male and female pair. The butterfly wings are incredibly intricate and beautiful. They flap gracefully. If I do this enough, I can levitate. I know in the dream that the wings came from the healing of my sores.

The hosts for the party, a male and female goth come back and say that the next party stars at 11. They are dressed in purple and black with goth hair. They go down stairs and will return soon.

I am now walking along a rocky boulder strewn shore. The going is tough so I take my shoes off for greater purchase. I move into the outskirts of a “castle”. Some creatures start to come at me. I then start to unfurl my butterflies. They are even more beautiful than before and have grown in size and splendour. Seeing these the creatures steer a wide path around me and head for the sea.

I am now upstairs in the castle with the wife. We are walking around the ornamental colonnades. It is deserted. We notice a pack of randomly sized dogs outside the castle. One black one starts to circle the colonnades in the opposite direction to us. It comes closer to investigate. It is more interested in me. It comes over to the railings which separate us and I show it my hand for it to sniff. It then bites my hand trying to sink its teeth into me. I know it to be a female dog who because of its posh heritage thinks herself better than me. I am able to counteract the pressure of her jaws by flexing my hand. I say to her that she does not know what she is biting and had better think about it. I continue to flex my hand which forces her to open her jaws. She falls to the floor in a submissive posture.

Dream ends



Mercury is a major god in Roman religion and mythology, being one of the 12 Dii Consentes within the ancient Roman pantheon. He is the god of financial gain, commerce, eloquence, messages, communication (including divination), travellers, boundaries, luck, trickery, and thieves; he also serves as the guide of souls to the underworld and the “messenger of the gods”.

In Roman mythology, he was the son of Maia, one of the seven daughters of the Titan Atlas, and Jupiter. In his earliest forms, he appears to have been related to the Etruscan deity Turms; both gods share characteristics with the Greek god Hermes. He is often depicted holding the caduceus in his left hand. Similar to his Greek equivalent Hermes, he was awarded a magic wand by Apollo, which later turned into the caduceus, the staff with intertwined snakes.

From Wikipedia

Transmutation – The Riddle of the Mind.

On having the dream this morning, I was intuitively reminded of the first insight pertaining to the rule of the four pronged nagal. The insight arises out of the first contact with the void.

The butterfly arises from the caterpillar. Egg-caterpillar-chrysalis-butterfly.

The chameleon can change colour, fire is transformative / transmutative, things are forged therein.

In the blue books opus, the first initiation is the transmutation, followed by transformation and then transfiguration.

The riddle of the mind suggests that most are stuck at the level of rationalisation and justification, there is little true thinking or true mind. One needs to get past these bad habituated habits to arrive at a real clarity as opposed to mind-stuff. Lower mind is not abstract and deals largely with the mundane and quotidian.

If you think about it the root of rationalisation is ratio, which is by definition comparative and this comparison is made to the known. Rationalisation is useless for the unknown. Justification is often by way of an excuse to “allow” things which are often a bit dodgy. One thinks of the imaginary weapons of mass destruction which allowed and excused the mass destruction of Iraq and the widespread slaughter.

We are taught in school to “justify your answers”. Humanity has a very habituated way of “thinking”.

I’ll put here a juxtaposition for you to rationalise and justify.






Chameleon – Fire – Keys -Butterfly – Cousins Dream 11-12-2024

This dream was between 4:55 AM and 6:30 AM it is followed by a less dreamy attempt to rejoin the dream.

The dream is set outdoors on some kind of patio. In front of me is a raised fire pit. It is made out of fired clay and is light terracotta in colour. The pit is a kind of hand-made grate with a quasi-oval ring of clay supported on pillars of clay about a foot tall. The idea is that there is great air circulation into the fire pit.

On the floor next to the pit is a large chameleon lizard. It is sandy-brown and about the size of my foot. I pick the lizard up lovingly with my hand and it comes willingly. I place the lizard in one side of the fire pit and it lies snug against the wall altering its colour slightly to blend in.

On the other side of the pit, I make a fire with pieces of wood. The fire blazes too quickly. I add more larger pieces of wood. The fire stabilizes and burns more quietly. The chameleon is unharmed.

In the fire pit I notice an old style wrap around key fob in brown leather. I cannot see if there are any keys in the fob or not. I pick the fob out of the pit and put it in my pocket. It feels heavy.

I continue to look at the fire and tend it.

My eyes are drawn to my right hand. I can see a black suit jacket sleeve with several buttons. Inside the sleeve is a buttoned white dress shirt. Both are incredibly crisp and well ironed. Out of the gap between shirt and jacket I extract, by encouragement with my left hand, a large hand sized pale yellow butterfly. The wings are in two segments so that you can see four segments. Its appearance is like a magic trick and there are flecks of gold in the yellow. It flies out of the sleeve and circles me several times

The butterfly flies off.

In one corner of the patio, I see two young women. One of them is light brown with a black Muslim head scarf. She is dressed in black. The other one is wearing white and is of European extraction.

The brown one asks me if I recognise them. She is flirty and cheeky.

No.

She says that they are my cousins and that she knows me. She says that I should have recognised them from Wales. We are related through Cristiaan’s wife from South Africa. She has a mild Afrikaans accent.

I wake and the wife tells me it is 6:30 AM when she gets back into bed.

I intend to rejoin the dream. I enter a sports hall wearing my bright red WRU t-shirt. As I do so the man running the gym says that Wales are not doing so well at rugby. I agree. I go into the bathroom to piss. I am in a cubicle and note that it opens out from the male changing room into the female one. I change cubicles. When I am finished, I wash my hands ritually.

Outside in the corridor I am seized by several men who have their hands on my arms. They are trying to pull me away and drag me with them. I use Ki to prevent them from shifting me. D is watching and he can see from my mudra-like hand positions that they have no chance of getting me to budge no matter how much effort they expend.

The scene changes and I am outside around a campfire with some middle aged women. They have asked me to cook my famous chicken and fish casserole for them. Despite this request they keep interfering with the way in which I am preparing the casserole. They keep trying to tell me what to do. I pick up a large slice of bacon which I tear with my bare hands to add flavour to the oil. They look shocked that I have used my bare hands. I explain that I washed them thoroughly earlier.

Dream ends.