Tag: Death

Malevolent Thoughts – Magic – White Scallop – Phowa Dream 06 -02-2026

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

I had hoped that we were past this, past this kind of projection at me. Here is last night’s dream on a night which had an otherwise long sleep.

The dream opens in a seemingly underground labyrinth, a warren of tunnels, which I know to be the mind of another or others plural. The walls are curved and of a grey muddy hue and texture. Hanging pendant from the ceilings of these tunnels are amulets shaped like a pain au raisin, coiled. They are palm-hand sized. They are British English of provenance. I know they are encapsulated thought forms and parcelled emotions. They are negative and malevolent towards me. They have variously resentment, jealousy and ill will. They are anger and even hate filled projections at me. In some cases they have festered long. They are by way of black magic spells directed at me either wittingly or otherwise. The persons generating these malevolence are not fully aware of their voodoo like essence. Nor do they understand that these emanations against a witch with well-practiced charms of reflective protection is for them, the emanator, a very unwise thing. Deep in the resentful caverns of their minds they are harbouring and feeding this negativity which is bad for them. They are nurturing it and it feeds upon them. It is eating them alive. To project against a witch is foolhardy.

In the dream I sigh.

The scene changes to a small cove on the coast with crystal clear waters. It too seems English. I am in the water swimming at the behest of an “archaeologist”. I am free diving to the bottom and searching the sand. I find a large pristine white scallop shell. Larger than normal, shiner than normal and whiter than normal. It is somehow special even magical white. I go to shore and show it to the archaeologist. He is excited. He asks me to find a living bed of scallops as proof. I know that the archaeology refers to the/my past. I dive and swim towards where a fresh water stream inlets into the sea. There on a small rocky outcrop are a bed of scallops. I take a picture with my underwater camera and with the knife from my ankle scabbard ease a living pair of scallops off. I return to the shore. I show the archaeologist who is very happy.  We go into the village and enter a small cottage with a “Tudor” blue wooden frame. We go into the kitchen and start to wash the scallops in the sink. The couple who are the cottage owners return and let themselves in with a key. At first they are surprised to see us in their house, their kitchen. The archaeologist apologises and explains. They are happy and the wife helps him wash the scallops in the sink.

The scene fades and I am left with a very strong visual image of someone known to me whom I have not spoken with for two decades. He is older than me and of a prior “generation”. I know that he nears death and this is by way of a checking in. If and when things progress I will see him during the transition and soon afterwards. The same holds true for a female also of his generation. As a part of the Phowa practice I will encounter them on planes non mundane in the in between. I am ready whereas they are not. I am at home there.

The dreaming sequence ends…

On waking I know that there is nothing you can do if someone harbours envy, bitterness and jealousy towards you. If you mention it, it does not go away. It only entrenches and gets worse.

A Death – Strasbourg – German Police – Dream 24-01-2026

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Here is last night’s dream. It is of a different kind, what might be third person observer dreams especially in the last part. It feels like an end of chapter. Where I have tied off whatever current loose ends there are my end concerning other dreams. The dream does not readily fit with any other sequence though it points at a time in life which I might choose to review {again}.

The dream opens with a woman sat on a chair. She is facing a large window in a room with high ceilings. The room is antique ornate but I know it to be present day. Around now. The chair she is sitting on is a wooden dining table chair with a red leather inlaid cushion. There are burnished dark metal tacks holding the leather cover to the cushion. She is sat with her hands in her lap and with a straight back. She has a pose of someone meditating. Though I know that she is dead. She has not long died.

I can see that she is my age or a little older. She is thin with close short curly grey hair. She is wearing a dark dress with a tiny inlaid bright coloured pattern. She is white and untanned. She has on a light grey knitted cardigan which has a small pattern in the knit. The cardigan is open. She has a small golden necklace and the bridge of her nose is accustomed to spectacles. She has died facing the window as she wished. Although dead she is still around and unsurprised to experience me. She is in Strasbourg in a room in a large house which belongs and has belonged to her family. There is wealth and history. She has known of her death for many months and is relieved at its arrival.

The scene changes and I am at arrivals at Strasbourg airport. As I pass through the gates I am met by three colleagues from the German police. There is a woman and two men. She is the senior officer. “I” have come to help them investigate the death. I can see the British policeman and through his eyes but I know that I am not him. We greet and head off into Germany and to the police station where an incident room has been set up. The woman who has died is very wealthy and the will contentious. Around “me” they are speaking a mixture of German and English. I say that provided they speak slowly German is fine by me.

On the table is a large ~ 30 cm lens / mirror it is convex and looks to have tiny fracture lines. They ask me to pick it up and place it on the table to clean. I do this placing it on a large blue plastic cloth. I start to gently rub the optic and it shatters into many pieces. My German colleagues react with a start. I apologise.

We then go back into Strasbourg. I will get some cash out to pay for the optic. Before we get there we pass a nightclub by the river. I say that the last time I was there I went into that club. They suggest that we go there for lunch. The driver pulls up and all four of us go into the club. The inside is not as I remembered. It has become red and a bit garish as opposed to traditional. We take a seat in a booth. The police woman asks me what happened when I was last in Strasbourg. I am unsure as to the timescale of her inquiry.

As the dream fades I am left with a fading image of the dead woman sat on her chair.

Coming to I recall two visits to Strasbourg in this life and know that it was not the train station which I arrived at. The last visit was at a European Semiconductor conference just before I flew from Zurich via Milan and Palermo to a conference in Erice.

My Death – pārasaṃgate – Phowa – Dream 04-01-2026

~ quantumdreamer ~ 1 Comment

Here is this morning’s dream / vision which started around 5 AM and which persisted and replayed many times after that. It is now an “event” which I can hold and “visit”.

The dream starts with an elevated view looking down on a man in a magenta monastic sleeveless tunic with his hands held in his lap. They are in partial mudra. He is sat on a carpeted floor loosely cross legged with back leaning against a bench or sofa for support. He has a light faded plumb coloured blanket over his shoulders which has an inlaid fine embroidered pattern. I know him to be dead and my erstwhile body.

The scene changes to before. I am sat up in a hospital bead with a painted white metal frame. I am in a nursing home or hospital like facility. I call a nurse to me. I say that I think it is time and could she bring be my blanket and the cat. I am helped out of bed and down the corridor to a “sitting room”. I sit on the floor with my back against a bench. On each side are cloth privacy medical screens on metal frames with wheels. They are light blue-light green in colour. I am shielded from view. People in the corridor cannot see me. A mid-sized oxygen cylinder is brought and laid horizontally on the floor. A small clear plastic tube runs from the cylinder and is looped once around my head. There are two small outlet tubes which are fitted to my nostrils. The gas is flowing. I can see that the pressure regulator on the cylinder is tending towards empty. It is not yet in the red. The orderlies are not concerned because I will probably die before it runs out. I make myself comfortable on the floor and my grey cat is brought to me. She is very much like Bowie the stray cat we “rescued” here. I am given the cat and she sits briefly on my lap. I stroke her and she nuzzles. She then wanders off. Two attendants come with my blanket which they put around my shoulders.

I adopt the infinity mudra in which the thumb and middle finger of each hand are touching each other and the two rings so formed are intertwined to form an infinity or 8 sign. As I do this in the dream I can feel the “chakras” in the palms of my hands and feet instantly energised while I am sleeping in “real” life. It is “electrifying”.

I start to chant quietly to myself in the dream.

“gate gate pāragate pārasaṃgate bodhi svāhā”

Slowly this changes to deep voice. I then focus on my crown or sahasrāra chakra which I “unscrew” to open it in readiness. I am making the way clear for me to go beyond form.

The scene changes to several weeks ago in the dream. I know we are last century. I am in the hospital bed and discussing with two white young male doctors. I am explaining to them that I need to make preparations for my death, my passing over. They are unconvinced that such thigs are necessary. Medical science does not believe in them. I suggest that there may be some things that medical science does not yet know and ask that they please humour a dying man. What I am asking is harmless and will not upset the running of the facility. One of the doctors says that he still does not believe me. I say that we shall see because I know that the time is approaching soon. We will find out. Not today but soon. They agree to help out.

I am now sat back down on the floor. I can feel that my face has been recently shaved and that I have bathed. I feel clean. My hair is still in a buzz cut growing out, a few millimetres long. I focus again on the sahasrāra and continue to chant lightly slowing fading this out. I can feel a first wisp beyond my body. The view shifts so that I am sat observing the body as if in a mirror. We are close a few feet apart. Slowly out of my crown a golden-yellow cloud of mist rises up and swells out. Like a murmuration of sorts. In amongst it I can see flecks of shining gold which catch the light and there are deep flecks of indigo-blue near glass-like threads and like tiny shiny fish scales. The cloud is filled with tiny sparkly mirrors glistening in the unusual supernatural light. The cloud moves slowly and expands.  I look down to the hands. I can see them and feel them. At the moment the cloud is still anchored in the body. The right hand opens the finger-thumb mudra to break the infinity seal and the cloud detaches from the body. The head previously upright lolls slightly forward in what I know to be my physical death.

I look at the cloud for a while and then my consciousness merges with it, into it. I am liberated of body. I wait in the room for a while and then it is gone from view.

I wake knowing that I have seen a death of mine. Over the next few hours the scene replays. I know that I died consciously in this dream and vision. I know that I had prepared and that it had mostly gone according to plan..

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…

—

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

—

Squeamish About Death – Place Your Bets

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I think it fair to speculate that many are afraid of death and the concept of dying. Opinions differ on the nature of afterlife, if there is one, and although reincarnation is a widely held concept there is no direct physical proof, rather circumstantial evidence. People are curious about what happens when you die. If one is simply extinguished then death is not to be feared whereas loss of life might be.  Time wasted is regretted.

People say “it is tragic that so and so was taken from us” when in fact death is a wholly natural process, at least on our planet. Few say, “it is natural that he passed away.” There is much social conditioning around death.

Humanity has a hang up about death.

I saw my first deaths up close in the Zambezi River aged ~11. One man died by drowning the other by crocodile. I had to write the account for the local police because they, grown men, were unable to write. Somewhere that report of death in my scruffy childish handwriting may still exist.

No matter how strong your faith, what your teachers tell you, nor whatever is written in books, from a philosophical point of view, whatever your opinion about death is, is simply that, opinion. There may be aspiration or wish. In effect you are placing your bets on what may or may not happen. This may be conscious or simple laziness. People can drift sleepwalking towards their death. Some contemplate it up close and personal. I’ll speculate that it is better to be prepared.

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To think about death can be seen to be morbid. On the other hand it might be wise to take advice from the inevitability of death and change your actions accordingly. No matter how squeamish you may be about death, dying and the death process, it awaits you. Your allotted time, your length of planetary sejour are finite.

If you are placing your bets on there being no heaven or hell, then you could be in for a surprise when you find “yourself” conscious therein. If you are shit-scared of dying then the process for you will be very uncomfortable. If you are relaxed and ready, then whatever happens will be more facile.

According to religious theory you cannot get away with placing a spread bet, covering all options. You need to choose, decide and commit.

If you are somehow still conscious after death and visit your old “haunts” to see what is transpiring, you could be in for a surprise. If you came to check up on me, to say hi. That might be a surprise for you. What might you say? If I was less surprised than you, would that be surprising for you?

If the light simply goes out there is nothing left to worry about.

At the end of the day, literally, how you approach death depends upon where you have placed your bets in life, what your opinions, points of view and actions have been.

Death although it can be in a public space with people, is largely personal. I don’t believe that you can bullshit death. You may try to be in denial, but death will not care. You are effectively alone on your own when you die. That may not be brain consciousness as we know it. But there is nobody “there” with you on the “inside”.

I don’t think that being squeamish about death and dying is wise.

Can Dreams Be Prescient – Death 05-06-2025

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This morning, I had a dream in which someone I knew and last spoke to over twenty years ago was dead. The sense was that this death was/is in and around now. They had recently died or are currently in the act of dying. The feeling was that they will visit, after death, relatively soon.

I searched the internet with their name and the key word obituary. If they have died, or when they die, there will be some kind of obituary published. I found none, today.

A long time ago, unless I am kidding myself, I went through a period when my dreams seemed to be uncannily prescient. I dreamed things and they happened within a few days of the dream. I can not 100% rule out that I saw what I wanted to see. But my feeling is that they were indeed prescient.

I have dreamed post-death visitations from a number of people. Some came true, some are yet to happen. I dreamed in detail the death of someone who had a large impact on my life and they died on the other side of the world roughly concurrent with my dreams. There were other signs. I have had other dreams of death which were proved roughly contemporary.

Today I have a date marker, which may or may not be valid.

For some reason I am getting the words “inorganic beings” on and off of late. This refers not to the inorganic beings of Castaneda but UK chemists of that persuasion.

I keep coming back to the notion of how people use the end of their life being important. In those last few years work can be done on outstanding karmic due, work required by karma. It can be the crowning glory or the ultimate failure of a life. A time of rich harvest or a time of badly increasing debt.

Interestingly the theme of the USA increasing its debt, what it owes, is current. The USA is living on the borrowed. Borrow now pay later…

Entrepreneur – Consciousness Studies – Dream 16-04-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 3 and 6 AM.

The dream starts in a non-chain coffee shop similar to one I once went to in San Jose. It has a Berkley – San Francisco feel. There is wooden panelling and stools up to an island style table. They are the same height as lab stools but out of wood with an inbuilt orange-red “cushion”. I am with a young man {~40} who is very excited and energised. He is dressed smartly and known to me though I cannot see who he is. We are to meet an acquaintance of his who is some relatively big shot tech entrepreneur. He is wealthy and now investing.

A man comes in with a small entourage. He is wearing a dark suit with unruly black hair. His shirt is unbuttoned. He spies my companion across the room and motions for his entourage to be seated. He comes over. My companion gets up and they great each other profusely as “bros” in a transatlantic accent. The entrepreneur is also in his 40s. He sits on a stool opposite me and has the air of someone in a rush used to not wasting time.

My companion introduces me as the ex-academic mystic he has been talking about. The entrepreneur is setting up some kind of endeavour looking into consciousness studies. He asks me how I got involved. I explain that my first formal introduction into meditation was during Kyokushin Karate training and the zen meditation therein. I demonstrate a brief series of karate style chudan-ski punches. I explain that I looked into shamanism. And that later I did some very pioneering meditation.

The man decides that he wants me “on board”. I know in the dream beyond any doubt that he has not the faintest idea what he is letting himself in for nor what I am capable of. He has no clue what I am. He is completely unaware of his ignorance and full of bluster.

The scene changes and I am now in a red brick UK mansion in an upper floor large room. The entrepreneur is sat there with some of the people he has gathered. I am there too, near a large sash window. I am standing. A part of the motivation of the entrepreneur is to understand his father, his meditation and what has happened to him after death.

I look out onto the lawn and sat there cross legged is a large white man with a complelety bald head and a massive ZZ top beard. He is meditating in the light rain, his hands in mudras in his lap. The sun is behind him and I can see at the far end of the lawn a faint rainbow lit up in the rain. The man on the lawn and I know each other well. We go way back, lifetimes.

The dream ends.

Chemical Leak – Surgery – Padmasambhava – Floods – Drinks – Dream 18-03-2025

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This dream comes after many days with very unsettled sleep due to intensely painful gout(?) in my right knee. I had 60mg of Codeine in co-codamol in order to get off to sleep.

The dream starts in a very modern building used for chemistry and science. The building is unknown to me. It is in London. On an upper floor where there are chemistry laboratories with fume hoods there has been a major incident. There are youngish people lying on the floor wearing white lab coats. Some of them have safety spectacles and purple nitryl plastic gloves on. They are not moving and are dead. There has been a leak of gas a chemical leak. The gas is an organometallic tin compound, a stanyl. It is volatile. Apart from being dead they look well. I am alone on the floor and immune to the leak. Slowly I drag the bodies out on to the landing and start to pile them into a heap ready for collection. From the landing I can see the entrance atrium which is rather grand. There is a glass banister topped with a hand rail. The bodies are both female and male. They are still warm to the touch yet floppy and lifeless. The work is easy and they do not feel heavy. There are well over a dozen bodies. I pile them up easily.

The scene changes and I am with G, R and T all of whom were / are academic chemists. We are waiting in turn to be operated on. We are to have sebaceus cysts removed from our faces. The man doing the operating is completely naked and devoid of any bodily hair. His genitals are visible. He is wearing blue plastic surgical gloves and nothing else. It is my turn to be operated on. I ask him why he is naked. He replies that it is a lot easier to clean up, the blood washes off. I understand the logic. He starts to cut out two cysts from my face. One of them is deeper than the other and he makes a slight mistake. He is worried that I am angry. I say that I am not in the slightest concerned with my appearance and that a scar of the right side of my face will match the one from the basal cell carcinoma removal on the left side. I suggest that he stitches away. This he does with a dark-black thread of a thicker than usual thickness. I get out of the operating chair and leave. The others are waiting nervously.

I am now walking around London with Padmasambhava, Guru Rinpoche. The atmosphere between us is fraternal as if we go way back. He is in a dark royal blue manifestation. We get into a right hand drive old Mk3 Ford Cortina in white. I drive us down to the embankment then we get out. Rinpoche puts his right arm around my right shoulder. He points with his left hand at the Thames water level. He says that in due course it will flood London. The water level rises and as it rises, we retreat uphill. Soon large tracts of land near the embankment are flooded. We work our way up towards Victoria and then Kensington. As we get to the north side of Kensington High Street, he shows me how much of London has been inundated by the sea level rise. He comments that much of this might have been stopped but it was not. There is a feeling of bond between us as we survey.

The scene changes and I am in what once was the Norfolk Arms but now is a hotel. It is very late well after closing time. I am in the bar with G, R and T. There is a young woman decked out as a waitress with a white apron and a black waistcoat. She is drying glasses with a towel. T orders a round of drinks from her and brings them over to us. There is some conversation about the chemical leak. The time comes and it is my turn to buy a round. For some reason I forget G. He feigns upset. I buy him a drink and the woman asks if I have any change, loose coins. She says that we always run out. I pull out coins from my trousers pocket to pay for the round. Her colleague, a male comes over and counts them out. He adds them to a small metallic coin-change box. He gives me back three coins. These coins I/we know are antique, they have a patina of age upon them. The others then go off to bed in the hotel and I sit at the bar with the waitress and her senior colleague. The night is our time, we are creatures of the night.

The dream ends.

Glowing Skelton – Third Universe – Dream 17-11-2012

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Here are some excerpts from what was a lengthy dreaming sequence.

Against a dark backdrop I see an image of myself. I am superimposed upon a glowing skeleton which has pink, fluorescent blood vessels. It is living. The two images or my normal body and the skeleton pulse back and forth in precedence. I am become death the destroyer of worlds.

In the dream I wonder if this is a harbinger of my own death. It is not it has only symbolic value…

—-

I know that the world of this dream in an intermediate world between life and death.

—

I am shown three worlds as three circles / spheres and written upon each world in vivid dripping pink lettering are the following:

The world of starving Spirits

The world of the Hungry Ghosts

The world of the in between.

I know in the dream that this current universe is the third manifested universe and to understand the true nature of Bardo and karma I will need to expand my consciousness so that it can stretch backwards to the times of previous universal manifestations. This will be a part of my training.

—————–

  • Sometimes the nagal or spirit is seen as a luminous pinks shade.

This from 18th May 2012 was more of a vision and seems related to this so I have appended it here:

I see a scene with four “men” dressed in different pastel-coloured robes breaking through into consciousness. They are “pastel” blue, pink, yellow and white, which are mildly and softly radiant.

They are waiting for me on the beach. Their facial features are not easily discernible. They are the four Lords of Karma, the Lipika Lords.

Dreams Around a Death 01-08-2011

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I am in Africa with Théun. We are dressed in khaki shorts, with boots and khaki hunting vests. We are walking in a river and he is showing me some aspects of hunting {stalking}. As we walk along, we catch various fish which we discard. We near a rockpool which is where we are going to fish. The river goes between a rock formation and he wants to show me what is past that. So, we go through and right up to the lip of a waterfall which is there. The water cascades over into a massive plunge pool it is totally beautiful. I am a little nervous about the height but cope OK. As we pull back from the edge, I lift up the river bed as if looking under a carpet or rug. Under the river I can see night stars and sky. I replace the river bed and we move back to the fishing spot.

Later we are inside a room. In front of us on a table is a giant human heart which is still pulsing. I start to run a grater come mandolin over the heart. This removes aged, vitrified muscle so that the heart can function better. He looks on and there is a sense of us working on this together.

On the night 4 – 5th of September a Le Creuset casserole spontaneously split asunder in our kitchen in Surrey

22nd October 2011

I am somehow at a hotel resort over looking vast dunes. I notice Théun walking there he is very old and frail. He is walking. I ask him if he would like to talk. Not now. He turns and walks away. I think to myself whatever. He seemed a bit like a ghost.

Later in the same dream.

Theun is now paddling in the sea. I see him from a distance getting into trouble. He is having difficulty breathing. I am with E and I ask her what is needed. It is my Ventolin. I rush to the scene with my Ventolin. When I get there, he is being given CPR. I go to the hospital and am sat there beside him feeling his veins whilst they sort out a drip. The vein is “metallic” and I know that I am bringing him comfort. He passes away. There is a no resuscitation policy in place. It is clear to me that he is in a mess physically. I do not know why I was “there” at the end.

I was not in contact with Théun at this time and the dream prompted me to do an internet search.

His death is reported at being on the 5th of September.