Dreams With Eggs In – Dream Follow Up

February 4, 2026February 4, 2026 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

I have had a total of nine dreams with “eggs” in found by a word search of my dreams folder. Eggs are a dreaming symbol for something nascent about to be born, something encapsulated and perhaps hidden. They are about potential.

I have omitted two from the list below because in these the “meaning” of egg was more to do with food.

There are four dreams from 2025!! One from 2023 and one from 2022.

I have partially excerpted a seemingly significant dream from 2008. Which kicked off a line of inquiry unexpected to me.

When taken together they seem more impact full. The “California” and “Nevada” dreams are from a different source, level or theme.

Were one of a mystical persuasion these 2025 dreams could be deemed highly significant…

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Chaotic Mess – Rare Slow Soul Magic – Dream 12-12-2025

Sleep last night came in two segments 12 – 2:30 and after an hour of TV, 4 to 7. In “A Discovery of Witches” season two last night Diana masters the ninth knot, the spell of endings and beginnings, the knot of completion(s). Implicit is inherent in this is also the tenth knot. Diana a weaver and time walker prepares to travel back to modern day.

The first part is in the early sleep and shallow. I am with the ex-wife. She wants to show me what is going on in the village. She insists that I go to see what has become of the village pubs. She is curious and very nosey. She wants all the gossip. Reluctantly I go with her and one of the pubs is under new management. He is trying to make a go of it. The pub is in a state of mess and undergoing renovation. A part of it is open for business. We go in and he asks what I want. I ask for a pint of Guiness and it takes long while to pour and settle. The ex-wife has a half of bitter and proceeds to go around chatting at/with everyone else in the pub. I ask the landlord about his plans.

We move off to the next pub. This is more lively and all the village folk some from out of town and some born are ostentatiously getting pissed up. The air is of forced jollity, almost an anxious jollity. This pub is better lit. The locals all stare at me. Once again the ex-wife works the room talking to everyone and gossiping about life in the village and in general. I do not see the point of it in the dream. The pub is a mess and someone needs to do a glasses round and wipe down tables. There is a hint of Christmas party and the TV in the pub is blaring away in the background. It is harsh to the senses.

I awake for some poor TV, a pill and two lion bars.

Back now in the dream I am upstairs in a retreat centre type house. It is redbrick and old. On the other side of a single track road is a chest height red-brick and flint wall behind which is a substantial weir and mill race. The river is powerful and the water deep and of a green hue due to the weeds. I know the building I am in is aligned to the old water mill. It is a part of the complex. The feel is very similar to Llangollen. The smell is similar too; we are near mountains. I am lying on the bed with the window open. The net curtains are blowing lightly in the breeze and I can hear the deep bass rumble of the water on the weir.

I hear a key in the door downstairs and in walks Paul and Emma. (Walker). They walk through into the kitchen and I can hear the keys being thrown into a small ceramic pot / ashtray. The pot is glazed agate green. I can hear Paul complaining to Emma about me. He complains how things can be messy after I have been and that although the mess is not mine it is in response to me that the chaos and mess ensues. He is not happy about me being there and wants me to go. His unwelcome is widely held among many people. I do not do what they deem I ought to.

I come down stairs and Paul intuits that I have heard what he has been saying. He asks if I have heard. I affirm. He says that there is no point pretending then. I say that I am not in the least bit upset. I have something to show him. In the kitchen are plates and cutlery unwashed. He looks at them with scorn. We all go out into a walled garden and to a stand-up wooden table in a “beer-garden” private to the property and which overlooks the weir.

I say to Paul that I possess a special rare type of magic. This he doubts as otherwise I would have used the magic to clean up. I say that this magic is not of a material kind, the kind for tricks and show. I say that my magic is a special kind of magic known by some as Soul magic. This magic is of a very slow effect. It is a slow Soul magic. He is sceptical.

I hold up my left hand and a brown hen’s egg appears in it. This catches his attention. It cracks and the top comes off. It is now like a soft boiled egg ready for eating in “dippy eggs”. I say to him that my magic, the deeper magic, pertains only to the Soul. It is not mundane. In the dream he understands that the egg is a metaphor for the Souls. I say that yes I can and do work directly with the Soul(s).

The dreaming view looks down at the soft yolky egg from above and then zooms out to a side view. A small amount of yolk has run down from the egg along my fingers and onto my white inner wrist. I say that even Soul magic is of two kinds, the magic of the Souls evolving through lifetimes and that of the spark within. True magic is about the creation and enveloping of the spark within a Soular casing, the egg of lives. The ultimate magic is about liberation in which the ovoid shell, the eggy casing of the Soul is rent and evaporates only to leave the spark within and thence throughout. Soul magic is about encapsulation and liberation. It is beyond the sight of most and not to the everyday taste.

As they watch the egg starts to dissolve shimmering into space with a shimmering of tiny golden insubstantial flecks. Leaving a tiny bright yellow-orange radiant spark or flame. Which is suspended above my fingers. Paul and Emma are temporarily transfixed. They come to with a jolt and all they can see is my upstretched left hand with fingers touching from where the egg once was. They can see a small trickle of bright yellow yolk against the white inner skin of my wrist.

The dream zooms out and looks directly into the depths of the water going over the mill race weir. I know that those prone to the chaos of the West struggle to see the beautiful order and patterns of time.

I come to and feel the stiffness in my hips and lower back..

Luxuriously Lost – Dreaming Colour – Vajra Bell – Huge Serpent – Dream 03-09-2025

Here is last night’s dreaming sequence, which on waking seemed very significant..

The dream starts with me arriving at a brand spanking new London Underground station which I exit onto the street in front. The tube station on a standard tube sign is called “DOCTO BEN”. In the plaza outside are a number of food outlets, a news agents and a Timpson’s key place. The buildings are modern and white, a reproduction of period buildings suitable to the area which I know to be due West of the South Kensington campus. The reproduction has been done very well. Although I know roughly where I am, I am lost. I do not recognise any of the streets nor the street names which are on plaques in keeping with the area. In the dream I rationalise that it must be an Elizabeth line, new tube station.

I decide that I need to get a green district line tube home and venture northwards towards the park to look for one. I estimate I may find one there. I am unhurried and thoroughly enjoying my time being luxuriously lost with no fear therefrom. I head north. I cross a main road onto the outskirts of the park and cross the road which I know heads over the Serpentine. I wait for the little green man on the traffic lights. I start to cross. As I am crossing my mind, its visual eye, is filled with the phrase “OXO BEST”. I know this and the previous word are numerology.

The dream changes and I am upstairs in bed. Somehow the cat has gotten onto the upstairs landing and is playing with marbles. I get up to investigate she is chasing a green cat’s eye marble back and forth along the hall. I imagine the door to the upstairs to be open so that she can go back for food and toilet. I close the bedroom door so that she cannot get in.

I wake up and recall the words. I go to the loo and make a note of the words on a cardboard box in the kitchen. It is a little after six AM.

I get back to bed thinking that my dreaming is perhaps over for the night and will generally calm down now after my birthday. I don’t think that I will go back to sleep.

Slowly my visual field fills with my dreaming colour, forming, swirling and forming in its indigo-blue Rorschach blot like way. The colours form among “clouds”. The dreaming colour fills the dream landscape. I note that this is highly unusual, spontaneous dreaming colour. I allow myself to relax fully into it and let the landscape fill and the colour absorb me.

I am in my old university office and the telephone rings. It is a young woman asking if she can get a train to Memphis Tennessee from where she is. I say that I will come down to see her. I ‘phone through to the trainline and a ticket costs £1540. I meet her outside. She is with a friend. I tell her the price and suggest that she would be better off getting a hire car. She has a small day-sack on her back. She is not best pleased. I say that it is an easy drive. She says “ok, then. I will drive” and flounces off. She is a Ph.D. student due to present at conference.

The scene changes and I am sat on a faded red armchair isolated with no room reference point. I can feel the wind whoosh by my hair and the world is whizzing past as if I am travelling through space. I am reminded of the Maxwell tape adds.

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I feel absolutely rooted to the chair and the world, the universe even, whizzes past. I cannot see myself but can feel the chair and its arms under my hands. The motion is fierce.

The wind dies down and I can now see myself from the front of the chair. I am sat on the chair wearing a full bright yellow Gelug ceremonial crescent hat. I am in Tibetan style monk’s robes and have a mala on my left wrist. I look like I do now only my hair is freshly buzz-cut. I seem energized. In front of me on a very ceremonial table in its pouch is my Vajra-bell. I know that the chair is in fact a ceremonial throne, my throne. With my mind the pouch around the Vajra-bell disappears. The bell swells in size and takes on a golden radiant hue. The quality of it is vastly enhanced and intricate. The bell starts to radiate light in all directions until it becomes almost blindingly bright. But I know that this light is not normal photons. It is Vajra-tantra. I sit bathed for what seems like a very long time, the light feeling much like the gale-wind from before only vibrant.

The scene changes and I am sat at my old desk from when I lived in Brixton. On the table is an open propped up Microsoft Surface tablet. It is large and expensive. It is not mine. I can’t remember what I did the night before so I press play on the tablet. A video starts to play.

In it I can see a few men, eastern European, query Russian. They are standing in a near circle. One of them has his flies undone and what looks to be a semi-erect penis protruding. On close inspection it is the head of a snake. One of his comrades pulls gently on the snake head and guides it to the floor. Slowly a huge snake reminiscent of a fat Burmese python eases its way out of the trousers. The snake is several metres long and more than ~30 cm thick. It is massive and powerful. It has a racing-green lush colouration and glistens with a self-moistening sheen. I am now fully in the scene and the snake comes towards me, it welcomes me and I temporarily incorporate it. I become one with it.

The scene changes to the far arctic north. I am outside a base with wire mesh fence. I dig a deep square shaped hole deeper that my height. The sides of the hole are perfectly cut squared because I am digging into permafrost. Into the hole I place my Vajra-bell along with several near-spherical objects which have an egg like purpose. They are ancient and sort of sacred. I am the keeper. I then exude the snake into the hole for protection. It nestles down. I go off and cut several chunks of ice slab. These are ~one metre by one metre by thirty centimetres, they are heavy hundreds of kilos. But I manipulate them by hand and mind into the hole as a stopper. I am about to cover with dirt when Max walks by. I ask him if he would like to take a look before I close it. He is unsure but agrees.

The dream ends.

Dreaming Courses Dream – 14-08-2025

Here is this morning’s dream had between 4 and 6 AM. Again another one seemingly out of the blue.

The dream starts in a faculty office. Behind a large desk is a woman in her 40/50s. She is powerful and dressed in an expensive skirt and jacket suit with a royal blue shirt. She exudes wealth and she is very accustomed to getting her own way, obeyed even. She tells me that the faculty have agreed to my proposals for a course on dreaming and that I may go ahead with these courses on an experimental basis. She needs to be kept in the loop of developments. She thinks that I am fearful and subordinate to her. When I simply very relaxed and fluid. I know that she has other agendas which she is trying to forward and that there are politics going on behind the scene. She hands me a book of mounted photos like a book of material swatches used in fashion or decorating design. The book of “swatches” has covers and I cannot see the contents. She intimates that she wants these included in the courses.

Her office leads out onto a full or partial quadrangle with a covered ambulatory or walk way. It has a light reddish-brown brick. There are cobbles in the quad. It feels a little like Greenwich but also has a sense of Berkley CAL. There is a history and the word meridian is to mind. On the side wall of the ambulatory there is a small wooden display case with a lockable glass front. In this cabinet I will display course synopsis for the passing footfall of students.

I go into an open room with whitewashed walls and a dark red stone or painted concrete floor. I am met there by a younger woman who has been assigned as to help me and, to keep an eye on me. She asks me why I think that there are no definitive books on dream content. I say that by their very nature dreams are nebulous and not well suited to reductionist quasi-logical methods. Dreaming is dreaming and it has to be approached via dreaming and not structure. Sense-making can hinder dreaming significantly.

I open the book of swatches to show to her. Inside it are photos of some kind of Tibetan centre, out in the country. There are images of coloured prayer flags blowing in the wind. One of small stupa only a few metres high. There are western white participants and a very few Tibetans dressed monastically. I know the word Drukpa is associated. It is clear that a part of the agenda from the powerful woman relates to Tibetan dream practices. There is more agenda.

The young woman has a notion that in dreaming cultures there is always a myth and a mythos. That these grow up around the dreams and the reporting thereof. As a part or her research she would like to see if we can seed a myth and a mythos into those participating in the dreaming. Rather than that being an ancient hagiography she wants to seed an artificial mythos and see where it goes. She ushers me over to the back of the room where there is a museum style display case with a sloping horizontal glass covered display. Under this are full depth “admiralty” drawers containing specimens. She pulls out one draw and there packed in cotton wool nests are several rock specimens. She select a grey and black speckled “agate” egg. The black is dark like obsidian

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She says that this will or could be the dream egg around which we start to create a dream mythos or myth. She is excited and I say that I am happy to explore this avenue but that it needs fleshed out. We can use the egg for the birth of the course, metaphorically.

The power woman, the principle, from before knocks and enters the room. She is wearing high heels which have been tricky on the cobbles. I show her two pages of A4 text which will serve as a flier for the course. This text will go into the cabinet. She asks what the syllabus will be and I say that the syllabus will be decided to a large extent by the attendees and mostly by dreams. She looks sceptical.

I usher her over to a tarpaulin. On which are several plants in black plastic pots tied to short bamboo supports. I say that these are going to go into the green house and that these will comment upon and be a part of the course. I ask if she would like to help us plant them. Yes. We load half the plants onto a flatbed trolley and head out of the quad-building to the university allotment where our greenhouse is. Together we all plant the plants. The principle comments that she found it very enjoyable and that it is the first time for a very long while that she has had dirt under her nails.

We go back to the quad room. The principle asks about a web presence or page. At her prompt I know that I have to send someone a link to the dream yoga blog as it currently stands. I will do this after I have written up and posted this dream.

The dream ends and I note with some surprise on my way back from the bathroom that its exactly 6:00 AM.

Mermaid’s Purse – Viviparous – Generational Language Difficulties Dreams – 28-03-2025

Here are last night’s dreams although not obvious they are somehow linked.

The dream starts with me looking down onto a white work surface. On it are two mermaid’s purse like egg sacks. They are shaped like ravioli, crimped and in quasi-translucent pink-yellow. They are very definitely alive and pulsing with a heartbeat. I cannot see the contents but I know they also contain parcels of knowledge. I have made them entirely hermaphroditically and must incubate them to fruition.

In turn I place one under the skin in my left arm pit and then my right armpit. There is a short umbilicus which protrudes into the arm pit. Otherwise, they appeared sealed into my body. The purse in my right armpit is more advanced and larger. It is this one which will hatch first. I know in the dream that I am now viviparous. The purses breathe through the umbilici. I must bear these and bring them to birth.

I wake for a visit.

The second part of the dreaming is set in a “trendy” clothes shop in London, somewhere like Kensington High Street. It is up market and youth. I have no idea how I got there. I am carrying an old pair of black Levi 501 jeans which have a few small holes between the legs in the crotch area. I need new jeans.

A young woman assistant comes to serve me. I explain that I need new jeans and show her my old ones. She leads me over to a display of jeans. The jeans all have stylised holes, rips and repairs in them. I joke that I need not get some new jeans because mine are already ripped. She tolerates me. We look through the jeans and find some blue “baggies” which actually fit me. All the sizes are for skinny people. She takes the jeans with me to the cash desk.

When we arrive a young manicured and perfumed man is there. He asks me if I need anything else. I say because the holes in my jeans are where they are I might need some boxers. We all go to the underpants section. The array of colours is not to my liking, all colourful in autumnal shades and lovat. He leads me to the top of the range shelves and pulls out a pair of pants which have a “sock” or “willy warmer” for the penis. They look ridiculous. He is very self-important and praises them. I say that I do not like the penis pocket. It is stupid. He says that they are “punk”. I suggest to him that punk might have different generational meanings and that he has no idea what punk means. Real punk does not exist in his precious world. I say that it would be much more punk to wear no pants and risk my tackle falling out of or otherwise showing though the holes in my Levis. The young woman is both appalled and mildly aroused by what they both deem my gross comments. The man flounces off.

I go back to the till with the woman to buy the jeans.

I leave the shop and go into a boxing kit store. There one can buy normal black pants and ones with room for a plastic bollock guard. There is a sense of sanity there.

I know that the dream means my cultural refences are not transferable to the young of today and that I will have difficulties communicating with them. To them I am a crass ignorant dinosaur.

The dream ends.

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Sensei – Golden Egg – Seven Horsemen Dream 27– 10 -2008

This dream was had in Vienna on honeymoon. I got out of bed and went down to reception to write it down so as to not turn on the lights in the hotel room.

There is sense of training ground. We are all outside waiting for the sensei. However, the sensei is me. Alexandros myself and others are there. Suddenly there is a strike of lightning and A is hit by lightning. He is a nagal’s courier. He is lit up and energised. Only now it is not him it is me who is lit up and energised. This scene lasts for a long time with multiple lightning strikes.

I walk across the bridge fully charged.

The scene replays several times and is vivid even as I recall it today. {Jan 2025}

I go to a gym / factory area. There is something inside my anus. I reach inside and pull out a glossy shiny golden egg. This is very painful. I store this egg somewhere and keep it secret.

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California Dreaming Snow Radiation Eggs 08-08-23.

Here is last night’s dreaming sequence. It seemed very important to me.

It is night and I am in a large American automobile with another man. We are driving along a road and up ahead we can see the flashing lights of a police road block. It is snowing heavily despite the low altitude. The weather has changed. We are heading from the central California towards the coast. As we approach a California Highway Patrol officer ushers us to one side with his torch. I pull the car over and wind the window down. He asks me where we are headed. I say towards the central California coast {implied Los Angeles conurbation}.

He says, “I am sorry sir but you can’t go there the radiation levels are still way too high because of the radiation incident. You can head to Southern or Northern California there are marshalling camps there and they are welcoming all comers, for now.”

I thank him and head South towards Southern California.

I come to and know that the dream refers to a nuclear attack. I briefly consider if we should get some 5 kilo bags of rice, flour, sugar, yeast, and a rudimental non-fancy barbecue today. I decide to try to go back into the dream.

I doze back off and am in a large seminar room with people sat around in a circle. It is in the USA somewhere. They are smartly dressed and professional. Arnold Schwarzenegger, as he currently looks, is speaking. I am sat next to him and helping him. He asks the audience a question.

“There are seven ingredients which we can use to solve this problem, make this meal to help feed us. What will you do? What will you say?”

He holds up a single egg and looks at it. This represents the first ingredient. He allows it to fall and it smashes on the floor. He then goes around the circle asking them if they have anything to say. One by one they have nothing to say.

He picks up another egg. Holds it up and similarly drops it. Again, it smashes on the floor. We can see two broken eggshells and raw eggs on the seminar room carpet.

The audience sits largely silent. He goes around the audience again. They avoid eye contact and have nothing to say.

He picks up another egg, representing the 3^rd of seven ingredients. I am getting agitated. He drops the egg and it smashes.

He turns to me and asks, “Alan what do you think is going on?”

I say that they are being very complacent and waiting for someone else to make a move. It is a shame. They do not realise that the clock is ticking and that they are fast running out of options.

Again, Arnold goes around the circle asking for responses. None are forthcoming though a few are starting to fidget.

He picks up a fourth egg and throws it hard onto the floor.

He goes around the circle one more time and as he gets about halfway a young woman jumps up.

She entreats the others. “Come on!! We must at least do something, before it is too late.!!”

I come too and think that four broken eggs stand for the terrible inertia, things which might have become something have been wasted.

I then try to drift back off.

I am in a communal room where people are preparing breakfast. It is misty outside and European of feel. They are all listening partially to an old fashioned radio with a tuning dial and aerial. It is playing some insipid pop music. I go over to it and tune it to a news channel. There is nothing on the news yet. I say that I will go and type up my dream. I turn it back to the prior station. I say that it is very important that they listen carefully to my dream when I come back.

Dream ends.

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Nevada Students – Catching Eggs Dream 10-01-22

This is the second of last night’s dreams.

I arrive at a faculty building. I have been escorted there by a faculty liaison officer. She ushers me into a room in which there are around half a dozen graduate students. They are dressed in alternative / indie clothes and a few of them have died hair and piercings. I assume that they are arts students.

The faculty liaison officer tells them to show me around and generally be helpful. They introduce themselves as do I, on a first names basis. They are very friendly with only mild US accents. I ask them what they do and it tuns out that they are all scientists and use lasers in one way or another. They are from various departments. I decide not to ask them if they know Prof. A..

They show me around campus and towards the biotechnology building in which two of them work.

Before we get there, we sit down on some park benches on the grass. Two of the students sit to my left on one bench. There are a few benches around what appears to be a tree, at first sight. The students hold out their hands, palms up. I look to my right and then back to my left because I hear a sound. One of the students has a broken hen’s egg in his left hand. The tree is now a tree from which multiple brown hen’s eggs are suspended. From time to time an egg falls either on the ground or towards a hand. The trick is to catch an egg in the hand without it breaking. From the broken eggs on the floor, I can see many have failed. The students are enthralled by this activity and no longer notice I am there. In the dream I know that I would have no problem catching an egg without breaking it.

The number of people passing us increases. It is the end of the day, and they are heading to the car park which is behind us. I conclude that the main part of campus is where they are coming from. I get up and head off in that direction to explore. I make a mental bet with myself that I can find the centre I am looking for without looking at any signs.

Dream ends.

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Sak Yant – Yantra – Tattoo Theme – Dream Follow Up

February 2, 2026 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Over the last ten years or so I have had seven dreams in which my skin is marked with a tattoo or tattoo like marking. I had waking visions around 2003 with om mane padme hum tattooed in Sanskrit {not Tibetan I checked} on the inside of both of my forearms The ink was of a very dark blue – indigo blue and to this day {now} I can still feel {or imagine} the lettering.

I have been looking into Thai or Khmer Sak Yant tattoos, perhaps inspired by this dream.

Saffron Trousers “Muay Thai” – Reincarnation – Dream 10-07-23

Here is this morning’s dream.

The dream opens at the confluence of two rivers in mountainous terrain. The river beds are strewn with dark grey-black rock. The river levels are low as is the resultant river. It is clear that from time to time and in rainy season torrents flow. Around the rivers are dense rainforest like trees. I am on a “beach” to the side of one of the rivers. There is a sense of antiquity and of “ago”. I know that I am near a village which is on a major trade route into / across the mountains. It has been the scene of major battles.

I look down and can see that I am wearing only some saffron-yellow trousers. They are held up with a drawstring at the waist and the ankles are similarly tied. They are loose fitting. My head is freshly shaved and without hair. My body is Asian and early twenties. It has no body hair. I am of a slight yet muscular build. I have a tattoo of my left forearm which I cannot see. I am with an old man with white hair and wispy beard. He is dressed in cotton trousers and jackets. He is an elder.

I am not of the village but have been assigned to it. There is an upcoming festival and I have been chosen to represent the village. Tribes will be coming down from the mountains for the festivities, which will be extensive over a number of days.

I point at a red rock on the shore. I say to the man that this could be ground up for face paint. {My mind interjects it is iron oxide}. He says yes and notes it. He will send one of the women back for it.

He has in his hand a cane upon which is a small pad. I am now supposed to kick the pad as he moves it. The type of kick is a roundhouse. He encourages me to swing the whole leg and not flex it at the knee. {My mind interjects that this not like a Japanese roundhouse mawashi-geri but more like a Muay Thai kick}. He moves the pad around getting me to kick low and high. He says that I must focus on the thigh kicks as these will deaden the legs of my opponents. He says that this is a key part of Muay Thai. He encourages me to kick low very hard and fast as we move around the beach. This “way” goes a long way back. He then gets me to work on a front stop kick which prevents the opponent from getting close. He says that I should tap into the warriors of old from this part of the mountains. The tribes coming down are savage and ruthless so I will have to be on my guard and at my best.

He says that although I am not of the village as the Buddhist priest, I should know its ways.

I have worked up a sweat. He suggests that I dunk myself in the river. Which I do.

The dream ends as we walk towards the village and I am amazed at how this body feels in comparison to the one in which I am sleeping.

Dream ends

* I note than in my waking dreams of me as a Buddhist priest I had a Sanskrit tattoo of “om mane padme hum” on forearms.

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The tradition of “sacred” tattooing is also by way of a magical spell or corporeal totem for the wearer. Such a thing would be imbued with intent. There are rules and a code of conduct to follow.

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IAST: Oṃ Maṇi Padme Hūm̐

Devangari: ॐ मणि पद्मे हूँ

Tibetan : ཨོཾ་མ་ཎི་པདྨེ་ཧཱུྂ

Thai : โอํ มณิ ปทฺเม หุํ

Khmer : ឱំ មណិ បទ្មេ ហុំ

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I intuitionally geo-located the dream to around the Chiang Mai area of northern Thailand near Burma and Laos which is not too far from Nagaland in that part of India which is East of Bangladesh.

The thinking goes that if I was once trained in Muay Thai and had a Sak Yant tattoo then having a Sak Yant in this life could precipitate a recall from the earlier life. There being nothing like being repeatedly stabbed with a ceremonial needle in a sacred ritual to alter the state of consciousness.

The language should probably be Khmer and ancient Khmer at that. This would mean that someone well versed in the Sak Yant tradition going way back might be the only one able to reproduce the mantra / yantra in a timely thousand year old Khmer script. Only they would know how, not for the eyes of the party goers at Phuket.

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I found out that one of the tattoo themes has two serpents or naga or nāga. Sometimes referred to as Mekong serpents for the tourists. These designs were appealing, if large.

A brief internet search suggests that there are no genuine Sak Yant masters currently operational in France. You might have to hang out in hardcore Muay Thai circles to find such a person. Alternatively a trip to Chiang Mai could kick start the process…

The hip surgeon would probably prefer that I waited until after the operation to get stabbed.

It sounds like a bit of a crazy idea at my age to get a Sak Yant…

Anyway it has been an interesting thread to explore so far…

Dreaming Courses – Does the World Need Another Flaky Hippie?

January 31, 2026January 31, 2026 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Following on from this morning’s dream I typed the words “Dreaming Courses” into the font of all wisdom. Its Delphic reply shows me than my name is not groovy enough, my hairstyle is all wrong, I am from the wrong ethnic, age and gender demographic group and am too well educated in the physical sciences. My relationship with Amazonian and Mongolian spiritual leaders is past its sell by date. My pygmy tutor from the Congo when I was aged 12 was a very long time ago. I am not keen on astral projection and my shamanic practice never got off the ground as a business. Neither am I internationally “renowned”. I do however have Celtic roots. I have no scientific training in the psychology of REM based dream understanding. I would not be authorised to do a TED talk and I have not been endorsed by any church, spiritual lineage or famous guru-geezer.

It looks like I am buggered then.

That is unless I invent some groovy sounding name, grow a beard and establish a pony tail. Perhaps I might get given a vision in the midst of Breton stone megaliths at full moon near the solstice. That way I can claim inspiration for my courses. Fée Morgane might lend me her powerful amber amulet of dreams.

This theme of doing dreaming courses has been recurrent in the dreaming for me. I did give one course about fifteen years ago called “The Art of Dreaming” at a place with the name of “The Academy of Dreams” not far from Euston Station in London.

There is a fundamental difficulty. People are very glamoured by the notion of Lucid Dreaming. This is not dreaming as I understand it. Dreaming needs to be allowed to happen. The flow must not be interfered with by quasi-conscious thought. There is no quick fix nor gratification. Actively imagining yourself slaying a dragon or being surrounded by horny dakinis is fantasy not dreaming.

People and organisations are skilled at self-promotion and SEO. So what you find on line is in effect marketing led. Some people make a living out of doing / giving dreaming courses. In order to begin dreaming as I understand it, it helps to have philosophical concept, a framework within which to initially understand. This needs to be well embedded.

As I understand it those most likely to be skilled at dreaming are introverted and will feel no desire to soap box nor be the centre of attention.

Talking inhibits dreaming.

This includes the wretched internal dialogue or monkey mind which plagues most people.

Although this theme of giving dreaming courses keeps re-presenting I can see no way to even begin to try to bring this about.

It is a moot point whether the world needs any more courses on dreaming whether on-line or in person…

Coffee and Memory – Dream Follow Up

January 30, 2026January 30, 2026 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

In the dream this morning I was back in an area of London I thought I once knew well around Albemarle Street, Dover Street, Mayfair and St James. I might still be able to navigate all the cut throughs. I have been both to the Royal Society of Chemistry and The Royal Society. I’ll speculate that I have encountered 5% of the jolly good fellows in the latter. I have met presidents of both august bodies. I can claim to have been once associated with three “important” centres of learning in London namely UCL, The Royal Institution and Imperial College.

But clearly the coffee is not all that good.

–

–

There is no acceptable physiological explanation of how memory might transfer between incarnations. There is no scientifically accepted proof that reincarnation happens. Memory in so far as science has it must have some kind of biological explanation perhaps something to do with synaptic frameworks, neural nets and so-called muscle memory.

I’ll speculate that because of what I have done to myself in terms of recapitulation, erasing personal history, dreaming and meditation my “wiring” may no longer be entirely conventional.

Neuroscience talks of emotions; what happens if you have meditated them away?

The idea presented in the dream that memory is counter entropic is not entirely silly. One has to organise a recollection of the perception of observed phenomenon into a coherent {or otherwise} pattern to make sense of it and as an aide memoire in its retelling. Organising anything out of a stochastic chaos reduces the overall entropy. This requires some kind of energetic input. Thermodynamics suggests that organisation always gives way to a less organised status. Keeping anything organised takes effort.

On death the chemical factory ceases producing energy and no further work is done.

There is anecdotal “evidence” that some can recall past lives or key events therein. Such evidence cannot ever be proven. My own view is that some kind of realisation or mental training must be required to transfer any non-traumatic memory across incarnations. Wishful thinking and a grandiosity seeking for importance amongst the otherwise mundane might be a motive behind reported recall. Memory recall is probably not a common or garden thing, despite what some might say to sound cool or chat up others.

There is no way memory could be transferred unless one evokes a “thing” some kind of entity which takes on another body.

No entity – no past life recall. The logic is sound. {Thinking only of the measurable physical plane.}

If there is an entity and memory has some kind of molecular basis, a biological basis, then in order to recall this the entity must organise the biology so that physiologically it can be read, by chemical or electrochemical means. That memory may have persistence and longevity or it might fade in a haze of skunk. Somehow the entity “writes” the memory into the new biology.

The entity must influence the biology. A non carnate entity cannot use the computer keyboard. There must be some kind of relationship between the entity and its meat. If there is not an entity then it is just my meat typing here.

If you are convinced that reincarnation does not occur. Then by definition past life recall is impossible and poppycock. Anything resembling such a memory would be found an alternate explanation. One more to taste.

In a past life I seem to remember haunting Mayfair and St James. I seem to remember The Clarence in Dover Street and Tennent’s Extra by the gallon. Nowadays you could probably get a coffee there.

If it is possible to have a past life in a given life, it might be possible to transfer memory from a past life into a new life. I no longer pertain to my old world from London. I have been “reborn” as a hermit in Brittany…

Open-source intelligence (OSINT) and Pandora’s Box

January 24, 2026 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Mucking around on the web this morning I found a new term OSINT

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Open-source intelligence (OSINT) refers to the process of gathering information from sources available to anyone, ranging from websites, social media platforms, forums, public records, and user-generated multimedia content. The value of OSINT lies in its cost-effectiveness, accessibility, and real-time nature. Rather than relying solely on classified or hard-to-access data, analysts use OSINT to uncover vulnerabilities, track emerging threats, and validate critical intelligence quickly.

In the race to keep pace with rapidly evolving situations, from cyberattacks and geopolitical shifts to natural disasters, efficient analysis techniques are necessary. Integrating a balanced mix of automated tools, manual verification, and advanced methodologies enhances speed, accuracy, and overall operational effectiveness.

Source : https://www.gmrtranscription.com/blog/osint-techniques-for-intelligence-gathering

——————

Following on from the dream this morning I have had a quick look for recent obituaries of women in their sixties in and near Strasbourg. I found two. I left it at that.

It is pretty common these day to ask the font of all wisdom a.k.a. Google and to gather intelligence {stalk} on others we know or once knew. An IT professional I knew said to me that I had little or no idea as to what the internet is capable of and how a skilled user can get information from it. My days of being up to date and modern are long gone. My state of the art is two decades old. I am not an avid user of intravenous smartphone drugs and fixes. I am not umbilically linked thereto. My ‘phone is on for no more than two-three hours a week, this when I go to the physio.

In some ways the internet is a bit like Pandora’s box. We can find it hard not to peek and check upon on someone. A quick glance en passant is probably OK. A more obsessive deep dive is obsessive and unhealthy. We may unleash knowledge, titbits and gossip which is unexpected. We can find out shit we did not know and do not want to know. We can become enthralled. We may mentally make a note to contact someone and then chicken out. We may be embarrassed that we have been stalking someone. To contact them would be to break the bubble.

There is some weird shit associated with internet usage.

Now that the WWW Pandora’s box is open a host of ills have been visited upon the world. A ranting president being one of them.

Because this blog is open it can be used for OSINT purposes. People could be reading it and analysing it. I do not know what key word trawls could stumble upon it. There is an outside chance that it gets flagged up to some spook or other. There is an outside chance that some nutcase(s) from my past is(are) obsessing and reading every word. A few may swing by in a healthy manner from time to time.

I don’t know. That is the thing, I really don’t know.

People may be opening their own personal Pandora’s box by snooping on the blog.

Following on from various dreams I have looked into relics, tantra and mantra. I am fairly lucky in that I have a well developed sense of what may or may not be BS and spin so I can filter without belief. I can also accept without belief. If you help undergraduates and postgraduates write cogently you can spot streams of waffle. I know a tidy well researched article when I see one.

According to what I have seen in the font I have been doing unsupervised tantric practice for over a decade and a half. It is a moot point as to whether I am still sane or not. The gurus advise against this kind of thing.

I started Gayatri in 2010. I have a book coming on the Gayatri mantra early next week. Apparently depending upon level of realisation how you chant this has differing effects. I am looking forward to the monograph which will be in French.

Because my mind can be quite fluid it tickles me to imagine anyone trying to make “sense” of what is written in this blog. It is not meant to be a manifesto or well organised. It is a hobby blog in which I write up what may or may not be happening.

If you think I am sending you personal messages you might wish to consider consulting a psychiatrist.

As a rule of thumb I pick up a thread of interest, sometimes from dreams, and then explore it until it reaches a dead end or having gotten the gist I become bored.

The Buddhist dream thread seems to have self-closed. There was the dream of my putative prior death and then the dream of relics which led me to looking at the end scriptures for Siddartha. There is a nice kind of “closure”…

What the hell I am doing dreaming about Strasbourg remains to be seen…I missed a truly massive dreaming symbol the first time I went there…the second time in 2000 my life was very complex and about to get even more complex with a high technology start up.

Fuck knows how I survived the first few years of this century…

If I have unwittingly been doing top end tantra then one could say that I have opened a different kind of Pandora’s box…it seems I mixed Vedic and Vajrayana tantra.

Maybe I already knew how or maybe I am just a nut job risk taker….

I have a new ring binder folder for putting my dream print outs in. I will know when it is time to start it…

…

Holy Relics and There Must Be Miracles

January 23, 2026January 23, 2026 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Following up on the theme of relics of Buddha yesterday, it is clear that they are a big deal and very important to many people. Hundreds of thousands turn up to have a walk by. These come for at best a glimpse. For me wanting to preserve goes against the doctrine of non-attachment and impermanence. For others there is a notion of sanctity and something out of the ordinary. Perhaps a kind of beacon, a beacon of hope. They are emblematic and touch something primordial and core deep.

As an erstwhile chemist and materials scientist I understand that bone phosphate and tooth enamel might survive a cremation at an unknown al fresco cremation temperature. But these fragments will be brittle and may not last with structural integrity for two and a half millennia. That being said they may well have been cared for with devotion and care. Some were buried under stupas.

My scepticism suggests that not all relics, Buddhist and Christian, can be as claimed. A relic has a totemic power in the psyche. It can confer right to kingdom; there are elements of ritual magic like with the stone of Scone. Whoever holds the cup which held the blood of Jesus has totemic power and bragging rights. Wars can be fought over relics. The grail stories are embedded in the collective consciousness and mythos. There are relics here in Brittany. My science mind asks the question, “just how many fingers did these holy people have?”

It is a part of religious logic that there must be miracles. Miracles are the proof of the pudding of deity and sanctity. Without miracles deity or Buddhahood cannot be invoked.

Back then nobody could have envisaged the Large Hadron Collider at CERN.

It is well known that with each telling a story changes and that embellishment to encourage audience participation and appreciation is common. Recently I have heard re-tellings of the story of Ceridwen and Taliesin. I am familiar with the source code but the text gets dramatically enhanced for a You Tube audience. It is reasonable to suggest that human nature has not changed hugely in that any story is prone to exaggeration over time. Which means that the use of sodium chloride is recommended, a pinch at a time.

It does not mean however that the spirit, the underlying meaning, should be lost. Take out the baby before pulling the bath plug.

In looking at ancient text it is helpful to be mindful of the use of parable and metaphor with out being dogmatic about verbatim meaning. To search for an illustrative metaphor as if it were fact is a fool’s errand. Though it does make good box office. My mother’s maiden name was Jones. According to 23andMe Indiana is a distant cousin of mine. I have a genetic predisposition to treasure hunting and finding sacred totems in a deadly race against the baddies.

It is a weird thing a part of society needs, wants to see, miracles as proof. Another part wants to disprove and pooh-pooh. Why must there be miracles?

In the context of relics, objects of faith, power and magic are embodied therein. A sight, a touch, a prayer may ease whatever ills and plagues one. Those who control such totems may control access and have power over any would be pilgrim. These days they may even charge an entrance fee.

Human religious creed and dogma developed by the clergy always diverges from the core scriptures. The socio-political practice veers away from the simple and the ideal. The basic messages are watered down and room for manoeuvre and excuse are built in to what the Sacerdotes profess. I remember that all religion is by way of a business too.

I struggle to reconcile how something corporeal, physical and object can carry the spirit, the magic, the essence. Once vacated matter remains matter. It is no longer animated or organised. As a meditative totem it may work, but having an inherent power of its own, I am unconvinced.

If a relic works as a meditative aid, then it is useful. If one imagines all the good things of a Buddha focussed therein and uses this as aspirational, that is good. Wanting to rise lotus like out of the mire of corporality is no bad thing.

My own take is that seeking a miracle or two, seeking something special, detracts from the mundane reality of here and now. Which is where all the “work” needs to be done. Seeking the miraculous and the showy is not where “it” is at. There is a kind of sword from the stone glamour in a miracle.

I suspect that the truly miraculous is seemingly insignificant and does not attract any attention. It is so not showy, that it goes unnoticed. People do not see it nor appreciate it when it is a simple sublime. The complete invisibility of the simple and uncomplicated is quite miraculous.

Cremation and Relics of Siddartha – Dream Follow Up

January 22, 2026January 22, 2026 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

From the – Mahāparinibbāṇa Sutta

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29 Now at that time four Mallas of the foremost families, bathed from the crown of their heads and wearing new clothes, with the thought: “We will set alight the Blessed One’s pyre,” tried to do so but they could not. And the Mallas spoke to the Venerable Anuruddha, saying: “What is the cause, Venerable Anuruddha, what is the reason that these four Mallas of the foremost families, bathed from the crown of their heads and wearing new clothes, with the thought: “We will set alight the Blessed One’s pyre,’ try to do so but cannot?”

“You, Vasetthas, have one purpose, the deities have another.”

“Then what, venerable sir, is the purpose of the deities?”

“The purpose of the deities, Vasetthas, is this: ‘The Venerable Maha Kassapa is on his way from Pava to Kusinara together with a large company of five hundred bhikkhus. Let not the Blessed One’s pyre be set alight until the Venerable Maha Kassapa has paid homage at the feet of the Blessed One.'”

“As the deities wish, venerable sir, so let it be.”

30. And the Venerable Maha Kassapa approached the pyre of the Blessed One, at the cetiya of the Mallas, Makuta-bandhana, in Kusinara. And he arranged his upper robe on one shoulder, and with his clasped hands raised in salutation, he walked three times round the pyre, keeping his right side towards the Blessed One’s body, and he paid homage at the feet of the Blessed One. And even so did the five hundred bhikkhus.

And when homage had been paid by the Venerable Maha Kassapa and the five hundred bhikkhus, the pyre of the Blessed One burst into flame by itself.

31. And it came about that when the body of the Blessed One had been burned, no ashes or particles were to be seen of what had been skin, tissue, flesh, sinews, and fluid; only bones remained. Just as when ghee or oil is burned, it leaves no particles or ashes behind, even so when the body of the Blessed One had been burned, no ashes or particles were to be seen of what had been skin, tissue, flesh, sinews, and fluid; only bones remained. And of the five hundred linen wrappings, only two were not consumed, the innermost and the outermost.

32. And when the body of the Blessed One had been burned, water rained down from heaven and extinguished the pyre of the Blessed One, and from the sala trees water came forth, and the Mallas of Kusinara brought water scented with many kinds of perfumes, and they too extinguished the pyre of the Blessed One.

And the Mallas of Kusinara laid the relics of the Blessed One in their council hall, and surrounded them with a lattice-work of spears and encircled them with a fence of bows; and there for seven days they paid homage to the relics of the Blessed One with dance, song, music, flower-garlands, and perfume, and showed respect, honor, and veneration to the relics of the Blessed One.

—

42. And the king of Magadha, Ajatasattu, son of the Videhi queen, erected a stupa over the relics of the Blessed One at Rajagaha, and in their honor held a festival. The Licchavis of Vesali erected a stupa over the relics of the Blessed One at Vesali, and in their honor held a festival. The Sakyas of Kapilavatthu erected a stupa over the relics of the Blessed One at Kapilavatthu, and in their honor held a festival. The Bulis of Allakappa erected a stupa over the relics of the Blessed One at Allakappa, and in their honor held a festival. The Kolis of Ramagama erected a stupa over the relics of the Blessed One at Ramagama, and in their honor held a festival. The Vethadipa brahman erected a stupa over the relics of the Blessed One at Vethadipa, and in their honor held a festival. The Mallas of Pava erected a stupa over the relics of the Blessed One at Pava, and in their honor held a festival. The Mallas of Kusinara erected a stupa over the relics of the Blessed One at Kusinara, and in their honor held a festival. The brahman Dona erected a stupa over the urn, and in its honor held a festival. And the Moriyas of Pipphalivana erected a stupa over the ashes at Pipphalivana, and in their honor held a festival.

So it came about that there were eight stupas for the relics, a ninth for the urn, and a tenth for the ashes.

And thus it was in the days of old.

43.

Eight portions there were of the relics of him,

The All-Seeing One, the greatest of men.

Seven in Jambudipa are honored, and one

In Ramagama, by kings of the Naga race.

One tooth is honored in the Tavatimsa heaven,

One in the realm of Kalinga, and one by the Naga kings.

Through their brightness this bountiful earth

With its most excellent gifts is endowed;

For thus the relics of the All-Seeing One are best honored

By those who are worthy of honor — by gods and Nagas

And lords of men, yea, by the highest of mankind.

Pay homage with clasped hands! For hard indeed it is

Through hundreds of ages to meet with an All-Enlightened One!

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Maha-parinibbana Sutta: Last Days of the Buddha

translated from the Pali by

Sister Vajira & Francis Story

———————————–

Eight measures of relics there were of the seer,

Of the best of the best of men. In India seven are worshipped,

One measure in Rāmagāma by the kings of the nāgas.

One tooth, too, is honoured in heaven, and one in Gandhāra’s city,

One in the Kāliṅga realm, and one more by the Nāga race.

“Through their glory the bountiful earth is made bright with offerings painless…

For with such are the Great Teacher’s relics best honoured by those who are honoured,

By gods, nāgas, and kings, by the noblest of monarchs

Bow down with clasped hands!

Rare is it to meet a Buddha through hundreds of ages!”

—-

An Exposition of The Mahāparinibbāna Sutta

Bhikkhu Pesala

Two Dragons – Two Babies – Tibet – Dream Follow Up

January 18, 2026January 18, 2026 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

In dream interpretation as per the dreaming symbols suggested by Théun Mares, with which I largely concur, two can be seen as a symbol of destiny and indication of something either yet to come or in some cases something gone before. {This last comment about before is by way of a new found idea.}

Dragons are mythical beasts and are symbols of power in the universal sense or of magic. Here power is the flow of the universe its intent perhaps. It is big universal and significant.

Babies are the symbol for a new and powerful change in awareness. In this case I both see and am the babies of which there are two.

Lingpa has significance contextually in Tibet.

Gold is the symbol for the Nagal or spirit. Here is the sense of universal Nagal and well perhaps the nagal beings

Vajra dragons

“In Buddhism, the vajra or dorje is the symbol of the Vajrayana, one of the three major schools of Buddhism and most identified with Tibetan Buddhism. Vajrayana is translated as “Thunderbolt Way” or “Diamond Way” and can imply the thunderbolt experience of Buddhist enlightenment or bodhi. It also implies indestructibility, just as diamonds are harder than other gemstones.”

In the Toltec context these dreams are of portent, power and impact. I cannot un-have these dreams. What is unusual is the cross-over of subject with Tibetan or Vajrayana Buddhism. In this life I have only briefly crossed paths with this on the nirmanakaya level. Having had a Guru Rinpoche empowerment. Given its public nature it would have been Guru Rinpoche 101. I have however been chanting Vajrayana mantra sometimes in deep voice on and off for more than a decade. In principle for the uninitiated this would have been foolhardy.

I have approached with respect and caution.

The restless dragons of the dream are perhaps high technology entrepreneurship and Vajrayana Buddhism.

Dragon Lore is Toltec

Druk is Tibetan / Bhutanese.

There are numerous Tibetan themed dreams. There are others with books, letters and magical writing. I have long wondered on the notional similarity of Tibetan gterma or terma and Toltec time capsules.

Somehow the two streams are “coming together”

If you view these dreams taken together they seem to carry more weight.

In isolation it is easy to say, “it was just a dream”. As a dated grouping it is harder to write off..

At the moment we live a socially isolated life. I am out of contact and not easily contactable. The chances of banging in to someone by chance are very slim.

I’ll speculate that the level or detail in my dream recall surpasses that of most others.

It remains to be seen if anything materialises or simply stays in the dream…

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Two Golden Dragons – 29-12-2025

The dream starts with me in an indeterminate space where I am inquiring of a disembodied voice. I ask for advice on why I am having trouble sleeping. It says, “It is because of the dragons, the twin dragons you have inside of you, the restless dragons. They keep stirring.” I note what the voice is saying.

Then in full visual field I can see two spectacular highly ornate golden dragons, “Chinese” in character. Theye are Li dragons with no discernible legs, serpentine in appearance with fearsome heads. I know that these are Mu {moo phonetically} dragons. They are my dragons, in me. I remember “collecting” the first Chinese dragon two decades ago. These dragons “swim” inside me. They are a part of me. They are also Vajra dragons.

{I understand Li to be fire in the dream but note that it might refer to the longer word Loong on waking.}

The image of the dragons persists for a very long time on and off. They swirl. They face each other.

They then chase each other head to tail in an animated ying yang. They present over and over, in various shades of iridescent gold. They are present on the orange-yellow and red flag of Bhutan. They are druk and dragon, dragon druk. They are most definitely oriental and not western dragons. I feel them writhe in me like the opening sequence to “The Crying Freeman” film. Despite my real world handicap, I feel lithe, flexible and able. The dragons are on my skin and under it, in me. I am dragon like able.

I see the double Vajra dragons of Bhutan..

I can see people in a Himalayan street with long golden dragon “puppets” held aloft on sticks dancing through the streets in procession. The puppet dragons are blowing in the wind and harsh Tibetan style horns are playing. There is celebration. They are making the druk, the dragons dance. It is a dragon dance, festival.

The image of golden two dragons head chasing tail disembodied in space against a cloudy thunder sky replays, over and over. I see dragons against a summer sky. I see dragons against the stars in the firmament. These are the two golden dragons, nimble and fluid.

—

Two Babies – Lingpa – Dream Snippet – 15-01-2026

He is looking down onto a roughly hewn crib in which are two babies swaddled in cloth and wrapped tightly up like an envelope. Their heads are also tightly wrapped. They have ruddy cheeks and dark eyes. The woman says to the man, “here are the babies, the twins”. I can see the man from the cot and the babies from the man.

He says that they are Lingpa, ling-pa. That he will take one to the monastery and one to be raised normally. I know in the dream as a baby that he is talking about me-us. I know that the dream is ago. I know that even if we are separated we are two sides of the same. We are connected intimately.

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The Future of the Dragon Dream 26-08-2025

Here is this morning’s dream had between 5 and 7 AM. It was sufficiently realistic that I just opened my email expectantly.

The dream opens with me sat on a sofa with a coffee on a glass coffee table in front. The furniture is ratan in build and the room tropical themed. There are batik hangings and a golden Thai style top-knot haired Buddha figurine. The walls are white washed and stone and there is a feel of castle and perhaps Scotland. I am somehow at home in these settings. I go over to a large dark wooden desk with a green “club” leather chair. I boot up the computer. In an email account I rarely use I scan the list of emails. One email stands out from the bunch. It has the subject line, “The Future of the Dragon”. I do not know the sender’s address.

I pause for a moment and then open the email sceptical of spam / phishing. The email opens without problem and it is addressed to me. The person would like to meet up to discuss the future of the dragon. I look to the bottom of the mail for a signature. The address is arranged in the form of a Thai Wat temple and originated from a dojo in the Malay-Singapore-Thai region with a Singapore head office. It has ‘phone numbers, email address and an Instagram account. The protagonist is called Cheng. I am unsure how to respond or when to respond. I look at the Instagram account and see a picture of a young Asian male in his mid-twenties. He is pictured in karate-gi with his pals. There are other pictures of him in the dojo, in nature and it all looks fine and above board. I note his appearance. He has at least a part Chinese to him. I resolve to wait a little before replying.

Next, I am driving South down Regents Street in London, near Hamleys. I am in my white Jeep style SUV. It is around Christmas time because the lights are on. Coming in the opposite direction, North, there is a stream of traffic which comes to a halt in front of me. A young man gets out and walks past me to see what is going on. It is Cheng. I call out his name. He stops and turns looking surprised. I say that he emailed me and that I recognised him from the photos. I say to remind him, “The future of the dragon.” It suddenly clicks. I gesture for him to get into my car which he does. I do a U-turn and gesture for his friends to follow me in their open top Jeep-Moke.

We drive off into one of the large semi-circles of grand housing next to a park. There is a pub nearby. I say that we should talk. He has suddenly gone all shy. I ask him if a beer would help. Yes, perhaps. We make our way to the pub and are soon joined by his friends which include his tiny sister. Chris turns up and I suggest that he gets us all a drink which he does.

I ask Cheng as an icebreaker about the style of karate he was training in and offer him my shoulder to punch. I ask was it non-contact and play punch him in the head or was it full contact. He says that is was a little heard of martial art specific to region but that is not what the dragon is about. He knows that I know this. I see through my contact with him a small wizened Asian man who is tiny and dressed in a Chinese “Tai Chi” outfit. He is Malay, Burmese or Singaporean. I understand him to be a master and that Cheng is by way of his contact. I have never met the master before but he is somehow familiar. I can feel him now as I type. I can recognise him.

Cheng’s sister calls her mother back home and explains that he has found me.

The dream ends.

—-

Dreaming Courses Dream – 14-08-2025

Here is this morning’s dream had between 4 and 6 AM. Again another one seemingly out of the blue.

The young woman has a notion that in dreaming cultures there is always a myth and a mythos. That these grow up around the dreams and the reporting thereof. As a part or her research she would like to see if we can seed a myth and a mythos into those participating in the dreaming. Rather than that being an ancient hagiography she wants to seed an artificial mythos and see where it goes. She ushers me over to the back of the room where there is a museum style display case with a sloping horizontal glass covered display. Under this are full depth “admiralty” drawers containing specimens. She pulls out one draw and there packed in cotton wool nests are several rock specimens. She selects a grey and black speckled “agate” egg. The black is dark like obsidian

–

–

The dream ends and I note with some surprise on my way back from the bathroom that its exactly 6:00 AM…

—-

Dragon Lore Dream 23-11-2024

This is a short but very intense dream from ~ 4 AM

I am with MF whom I knew as an undergraduate. We are sat in the front room of a British house in which I am living temporarily. He is sat on leather bound armchair. We have invited him over for dinner. We have eaten and are relaxing in front of an open fire.

I am lying on my stomach on the floor. My legs are bent at the knee and moving freely. I am reading my beat-up copy of “The Mists of Dragon Lore”. I can see the well-thumbed yellowed pages. I turn to the back of the book. Inside the hard cover is attached a vellum high quality cream envelope, the flap of which is sealed down with a fine bright red braided fabric. I slowly unwind the fabric and open the flap of the envelope.

With utmost care I pull out a card like piece of paper which is like artist’s paper. Embossed into the paper is an exquisitely drawn oriental dragon. It is in jet black ink and is something to behold. Next to it in fine black calligraphy is written in Kanji is “the famed black dragon”. I show the dragon to M he admires it and thinks it odd that such a print is stored in such a tatty old book.

In the dream I note that this is the very first black dragon I have encountered. I have seen many other colours.

With greatest care I return the artwork to its envelope and retie the seal.

The scene changes and I am now with M in a freight railway carriage. The carriage is empty of goods. M turns to me and says that the mullahs are talking about the coming of a new buddha. I ask if he is referring to the Islamic mullahs. Yes. I say that I know a little bit about Buddhism.

M gets out a prayer mat and places it in one corner of the carriage. He sits on it. Two young white boys, young teenagers, follow suit sitting next to him. Without a prayer mat, I sit next to the youngest boy. I put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

The scene changes again and I am no longer in the carriage nor bound by the rails. I can go wherever I want.

Dream ends.

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Tibetan Buddhist Search Committee Dream 29-04-23.

This dream was so out of the blue, unexpected.

The dream starts in the UK in England. I am hosting a personal development course in a country house with a large events room. We are sat in plenary in U-shape around the side of the high ceiling dance hall. It is ornate but now carpeted. A smartly dressed tall woman with a feint American accent and long blonde hair is speaking on a slightly raised wooden dais. She is using a long wooden pointer to point at a presentation she is making, which is running on a white screen.

It is time for a break before the final closing remarks and conference wrap up.

Everyone gets up for refreshments which are served in the antechamber. I walk through this into the back of the house which turns into a smaller building. This is where I have been living in the UK countryside. There is a wooden shed and outbuildings. I am checking on the content of these as we will be moving soon. Someone has started moving the items of furniture. I say to a woman there that she ought to have known better not to disturb my system. There is a symmetry to how I have fitted things in the shed. They only go in one way and must come out the reverse way. The passage to the shed is narrow and there is only one way to do this. I am slightly angry and the people are sheepish.

I return to the conference and it is over. Everyone has left, they are all people from my past in one sense. I have missed my chance to do the summing up and to thank the speaker. They have mostly left in embarrassment. The sense of embarrassment is strong and clear.

The speaker is now playing a video recording of semi-rural Tibet. The camera is running through the streets and I can see a large white and brown temple up on the hill. There are prayer flags and modern Tibetan people together with some more rustic “peasants”. I look at the woman and she has changed into an embroidered gold and red jacket over her novice nun robes. He hair is now short. I ask her about the video she says that it is of her people and that she has been working for them in making my acquaintance.

At this point a small party of people enter the room. They are all dressed in ceremonial Tibetan robes. These are very opulent. The embroidery is yellow, red, magenta, and saffron. It is ornate and slightly garish. There is a scent of incense accompanying them They are headed by a monk/abbot who is old and his right hand man who has jet black hair. In the entourage there is a western woman with a round yellow-red embroidered cap over her bald head. I recognise her as someone whom I have met in this lifetime. I go up to her and say, “I know you”. She winks, smiles and says that yes, I do and that she had been sent to observe me. Amongst them is a tall athletic Tibetan man who moves with grace, poise and style. I point my finger into his chest. I say to him, “you are warrior and fighter.” He laughs and says yes. We can spar later using traditional Tibetan weapons to see what I remember.

Now into the back of the room furniture is being carried in by hand. I know it to be of a ceremonial nature and this has been carried from afar. My eyes are drawn to a very ornate chest with meticulous cabinet work. It is made in the shape of a Welsh dresser with an upper cupboard. The wood is highly polished, perhaps walnut. The detail of the closures is in gold. It is a treasure and contained within it are relics. Although not visible to the naked eye, inscribed into the wood in “magic” lettering are some words in Tibetan script. The calligraphy is excellent and the downward strokes of the letters are longer and more artistic than is customary. They have been inscribed with flourish. There is a sense that the intense black calligraphy has been “burned” into the wood over the centuries and that only certain people can see it.

The carpet on the floor of the hall has been rolled back to reveal a parquet dance floor of some considerable sheen. Amongst the entourage I can hear gossiping. “It cannot be him; he is too coarse thickset and muscular.”

I hear this and whip off my shirt to reveal my muscular bare chest. I say that I will cooperate with whatever it is they must do. Take a look if you must. I am now wearing saffron yellow trousers, training pants, that are “elasticated” at the ankles. I start to do a forward splits on the floor to warm up. I say that given I am nearly sixty I am surprised that being that old I can still do that.

One of the woman in the entourage says to me that I am much older than that both in this lifetime and stretching way back. I am nearly 73 she says. I do the mental calculation that I must have been “born” in the early 1950s. She says, “we tried to wake you five years ago”. You have been “asleep” and we have been waiting.

I briefly wake up and then drift off.

I am at an oriental Temple scene with ponds and in an immaculate garden. At first pass I think Chinese and then know Japanese. There are people there with round black ceremonial hats and flowing Japanese robes. I am poured into the pond as very large and bright, shiny goldfish. I swim in the Temple ponds and in the dream, I know that my second Buddhist life was Japanese. These ponds are my home, where I swim.

I the return to the hall in the previous part of the dream and the warrior comes into the room carrying some odd looking Tibetan martial arts weapons. Which I recognise. Some of the monks are now seated and are reciting mantra whilst thumbing through their prayer beads.

I have a very strong visual image of two yellow-hat Tibetan monks in full colour sat on a rock up in the mountains playing their long Tibetan alpine horns. That image and the sound persists even now. I can “hear” the horns inside my mind. They are precursors to a ritual, setting the scene.

I get up and greet the cat. I take my medication and put the coffee on. I sit down and start typing.

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Tibetan Monk – Soil – Dragon Lore Dream 31-3-23

Sat next to me on my right at my table is a Tibetan Buddhist monk. He is a little younger than me and has very short cut jet black hair. The blackness is very jet. He is sun tanned and serious. He is concentrating on the lesson. He does not have any headgear. Next to him is a small rucksack which is blue-grey in colour and stands out against the colour of his robes.

The lesson draws to a close and the pupils start to leave.

He taps me on the shoulder and asks me to please wait as he has something for me. He puts his rucksack on the table in front of us. He gets out a smallish clear plastic bag and a tie for it. He lays it on the table. Then gingerly he gets out a bigger thicker plastic bag containing dry dusty soil. He handles it with care.

He asks me to hold the small plastic bag open. Which I do. He then unties a ribbon which is holding the other bag closed. He lifts the bag and pours a couple of teacups full of sand/soil into the smaller bag which I am holding. In doing so he spills a few grains of soil. He sweeps these up into his hand and adds them to my bag with utmost care. He closes the big bag with the ribbon and puts the bag tie on my bag.

He says that the bag contains Tibetan soil from a special place and that he has given it to me for my keeping. He says that this is my piece of Tibet and it is for me to look after it henceforth. I am by way of a custodian. He takes out a small cloth bag and gestures for me to put the plastic bag into it. Once I have done this, he seals the cloth bag with a ribbon and hands it back to me. I thank him and he thanks me. He utters something which I know to be a blessing in Tibetan, he bows his head. Together we exit the classroom. When we reach the corridor, we go our separate ways. I am holding the bag of soil in both hands.

Much later I am in another place. I am attending a Mind, Body, and Spirit event in a large hall. There are “hippie” stalls everywhere selling “wellness” merchandise, courses on various things, different societies, trinkets and with live demonstrations of various arts. At the back of the hall, I notice some tables selling books on spiritual and esoteric themes. I go over to peruse.

On one stall there are two younger people sat with a Tibetan Buddhist monk. He too is fairly young about 30. I can see various Buddhist texts including the Dhammapada and various Tibetan works translated into English. On top of one of the Buddhist books is “The Mists of Dragon Lore”. It looks incongruous on the pile. But I know that it has been specifically placed there as a kind of “bait” intended to attract my attention. I know in the dream that the Tibetans have been and are looking / searching for me. They wish to discuss amongst other things how Toltec cosmology compares with their own. I go over to the stall and gesture to the book on Dragon Lore. This piques the attention of the monk who comes over to see what is going on.

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Four Dragons – Wheel of Fortune – Dream 30-08-2016

Here is this morning’s dream, a birth-day dream…

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I am looking at an antique wooden wheel of fortune against a background wall. The wheel has stopped and it has a pointer facing East. At the four cardinal directions are arranged four dragons. They are small and intricate and somehow alive. Their nature is consistent with their name. The pointer faces the Fire dragon. In the dream I know that the dragons going N,E,S,W should be Earth, Wood, Water, Fire. Yet somehow the wheel has stopped with the Fire dragon in the East. I reach out and pluck the Fire dragon off the wall / wheel.. I put the dragon in my pocket.

“You may use the Fire dragon now. Although you were born a Wood dragon and your predilection is for the Water dragon, you may use the Fire dragon now. You own all the dragons…and can use them at will.”

Implicit is that the Blue Dragon, the Red Dragon and the Golden Dragon are also “mine” and available to me.

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Some Texts Attributed to Karma Lingpa

January 15, 2026January 15, 2026 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

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Excerpted from Bardo Thödol

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“As elsewhere noted, our manuscript is arranged as one work in two parts or books, with thirteen folios of texts of Bardo prayers as an appendix at the end. The Block—Print is arranged as two distinct books and lacks the appendix of prayers. But at the end of the first book of the Block—Print there comes a very important account of the origin of the Bardo Thödol, which is not contained in our manuscript, and this is given in translation in the following Section.

XIV. THE ORIGIN OF THE BARDO THÖDOL

Thus, from the Block—Print, and also from other Tibetan sources, we learn that the Bardo Thödol text originated, or, what is perhaps more correct, was first committed to writing in the time of Padma Sambhava, in the eighth century A. D.; was subsequently hidden away, and then, when the time came for it to be given to the world, was brought to light by Rigzin Karma Ling—pa. The Block—Print account is as follows:

‘This has been brought from the Hill of Gampodar (Tib. Gatnpo—dar), on the bank of the Serdan (Tib. Gser—ldan, meaning ‘Possessing Gold’ or ‘Golden’) River, by Rigzin Karma Ling—pa (Tib. Rigs—hdzin Kar—ma Gling—pa).

Rigzin, as herein given, is a personal title, and Karma Ling—pa the name of a place in Tibet meaning ‘Karma Land’. The translator has pointed out that Rigs is an erroneous spelling of Rig; for, if Rigs were correct, the name Rigzin would mean (Rigs + hZin). That Rig is intended—thus making the name mean Knowledge—Holder (Rig+ hdzin), a caste or class designation—was confirmed by a small section of a Bardo Thödol manuscript in the possession of the translator, in which Rigzin Karma Ling—pa is otherwise called Tertön (Tib. Gter—bston) , or ‘Taker—Out of Treasures’. The Bardo Thödol is, therefore, one of the Tibetan Lost Books recovered by Rigzin of Karma Ling—pa, who is held to be an emanation or incarnation of Padma Sambhava, the Founder of Lāmaism.

It was in the eighth century A. D. that Lāmaism, which we may define as Tantric Buddhism, took firm root in Tibet. A century earlier, under the first king to rule over a united Tibet, King Srong—Tsan—Gampo (who died in A.D. 650), Buddhism itself entered Tibet from two sources: from Nepal, the land of the Buddha’s ancestors, through the Tibetan King’s marriage with a daughter of the royal family of Nepal; and from China, through his marriage—in the year 641— with a princess of the Chinese Imperial Family. The King had been nurtured in the old Bön faith of Tibet, which, with its primitive doctrine of rebirth, was quite capable of serving as an approach to Buddhism ; and under the influence of his two Buddhist wives he accepted Buddhism, making it the state religion; but it made little headway in Tibet until a century later, when his powerful successor, ThI—Srong—Detsan, held the throne from A.D. 740 to 786. It was Thl—Srong—Detsan who invited Padma Sambhava (Tib. Pednia Jungue, i.e.’ The Lotus—Born’), better known to the Tibetans as Guru Rin—po—che, ‘The Precious Guru ’ to come to Tibet. The famous Guru was at that time a Professor of Yoga in the great Buddhist University of Nālanda, India, and far—famed for expert knowledge of the Occult Sciences. He was a native of Udyāna or Swat, in what is now a part of Afghanistan.

The Great Guru saw the wonderful opportunity which the King’s invitation offered, and promptly accepted the call, passing through Nepal and arriving at Saniye (Sam—yas) Tibet, in the year 747. It was to Samye that the King had invited him, in order to have exorcized the demons of the locality; for as soon as the walls of a monastery which the King was having erected there were raised they were overthrown by local earthquakes, which the demons opposing Buddhism were believed to have caused. When the Great Guru had driven out the demons, all the local earthquakes ceased, much to the wonder of the people; and he himself supervised the completion of the royal monastery, and established therein the first community of Tibetan Buddhist lāmas, in the year .749.

During his sojourn in Tibet at that time, and during subsequent visits, Padma Sambhava had many Tantric books translated into Tibetan out of Indian Sanskrit originals— some of which have been preserved in the monasteries of Tibet—and hidden away with appropriate mystic ceremonies in various secret places. He also endowed certain of his disciples with the yogic power of reincarnating at the proper time, as determined by astrology, in order to take them out, along with the treasures hidden away with them and the requisites needed for properly performing the rites described in the texts. This is the generally accepted tradition; but according to another tradition the Tertons are to be regarded as various incarnations of the Great Guru. According to a rough estimate, the religious texts already taken out by such Tertons, from century to century, would form an encyclopaedia of about sixty—five volumes of block—prints, each, on an average, consisting of about four hundred ordinary—sized folios

Our text, the Bardo Thödol being one of these recovered apocryphal books, should, therefore, be regarded as having been compiled (for the internal evidence suggests that it was a Tibetan compilation rather than a direct translation from some unknown Sanskrit original) during the first centuries of Lāmaism, either—as it purports to have been—in the time of Padma Sambhava or soon afterwards. Its present general use all over Tibet as a funeral ritual and its acceptance by the different sects, in varying versions, could not have been the outcome of a few generations; it testifies rather convincingly to its antiquity, bears out the pre—Buddhistic and at least partially Bön origin which we attribute to it, and suggests some validity in the claims made for the Tertöns.

We are well aware of the adverse criticisms passed by European critics on the Tertön tradition. There is not lacking, nevertheless, sound reason for suspecting that the European critics are not altogether right. Therefore, it seems to us that the only sound attitude to assume towards the problem is to keep an open mind until sufficient data accumulate to pronounce judgement. Though the Tertön claim be proven false, the fact that the Bardo Thödol is now accepted as a sacred book in Tibet and has for some considerable time been used by the lāmas for reading over the dead would, of course, not be affected; only the theory concerning the textual compilation of what, in its essentials, is apparently a prehistoric ritual would be subject to revision.

As for Padma Sambhava’s own sources, apart from such congenial traditional teachings as no doubt he incorporated in some of his Tibetan treatises, we are told, by oral tradition now current among the lāmas, that he had eight gurus in India, each representing one of the eight chief Tantric doctrines.

In a Tibetan block—print, which belonged to the translator, purporting to record the history, but much mixed with myth, of the Great Guru entitled Orgyan—Padmas—mzad—paJti—bkah—thang—bsdüd—pa (pronounced Ugyan Padtnay—zad—pai—ba—thang—du—pa) , meaning’ The Abridged Testament made by Ugyan Padma’ (or ‘by the Lotus-Born Ugyan’—Padma Sambhava), consisting of but seventeen folios, there is recorded on the twelfth folio, sixteenth section, the following passage, confirming the historical tradition touching the origin of the Bardo Thödol text:

Behold! the Sixteenth Section, showing the Eight Ling—pas, the Leaders of Religion, is thus:

‘The Eight Incarnations of the Great Bodhisattvas are:

Ugyan—ling—pa, in the centre;

Dorje—ling—pa, in the east;

Rinchen—ling—pa, in the south;

Padma—ling—pa, in the west;

Karma—ling—pa, in the north;

Samten—ling—pa

And Nyinda—ling,

And Shig—po—ling (or Terdag—ling).

These Eight Great Tertöns shall come; ‘Mine own incarnations alone are they.’

Padma Sambhava himself is herein represented as declaring that the Tertöns , or “Takers—out’” of the hidden books, are to be his own incarnations. According to this account, the Tertön of our own book, the Bardo Thödol , is the fifth, named after the place called Karma Land, thus confirming the Block—Print of the Bardo Th’ódol* and Karma Land is in the northern quarter of Tibet. We have been unable to ascertain the exact time in which this Tertön lived, although he is a popular figure in the traditional history of Tibet. The name Rigzin, given to him in the Block Print first above quoted, meaning ‘Knowledge—Holder’, refers to his character as a religious devotee or lāma; Karma ling—pa, as given in both accounts, refers also to an ancient Tibetan monastery of primitive Lāmaism in the Kams Province, northern Tibet.

According to our view, the best attitude to take touching the uncertain history and origin of the Bardo Thödol is that of a critical truth—seeker who recognizes the anthropological significance of the passing of time, and of the almost inevitable reshaping of ancient teachings handed down at first orally and then, after having crystallized, being recorded in writing. As in the case of the Egyptian Bardo Thödol, popularly known as ‘The Egyptian Book of the Dead’, so in ‘The Tibetan Book of the Dead’, there is, no doubt, the record of the belief of innumerable generations in a state of existence after death. No one scribe could have been its author and no one generation its creator; its history as a book, if completely known, could only be the history of its compilation and recording; and the question, Whether this compilation and recording were done within comparatively recent times, or in the time of Padma Sambhava or earlier? could not fundamentally affect the ancient teachings upon which it is based.

Although it is remarkably scientific in its essentials, there is no need to consider it as being accurate in all its details; for, undoubtedly, considerable corruption has crept into the text. In its broad outlines, however, it seems to convey a sublime truth, heretofore veiled to many students of religion, a philosophy as subtle as that of Plato, and a psychical science far in advance of that, still in its infancy, which forms the study of the Society for Psychical Research. And, as such, it deserves the serious attention of the Western World, now awakening to a New Age, freed, in large measure, from the incrustations of medievalism, and eager to garner wisdom from all the Sacred Books of mankind, be they of one Faith or of another.”

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From Lotsawa House web Site

Source: https://www.lotsawahouse.org/tibetan-masters/karma-lingpa/benefits-vajra-guru-mantra

The Benefits of the Vajra Guru Mantra

And an Explanation of Its Syllables

A Treasure Text Revealed by Tulku Karma Lingpa

I prostrate to the Guru, the Yidam and the Ḍākinī.

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“At best, practitioners will attain the rainbow body; failing that, at the time of death, mother and child luminosities will meet; and at the very least, they will see me in the bardo and all their perceptions having been liberated into their essential nature, they will be reborn in Ngayab Ling and accomplish immeasurable benefit for sentient beings.”

Thus she spoke.

“Great Master, thank you for telling us about such infinite benefits and powers. You have been immensely kind. Although the explanation of the benefits and powers of the syllables of Guru Padma’s mantra is unfathomable, for the sake of sentient beings in the future, I humbly ask you to give us a brief description,” she asked.

Then the Great Master spoke thus:

“O, Noble Daughter, the Vajra Guru mantra is not only my essential mantra, it is the life-essence of the deities of the four classes of tantra, the nine vehicles, the 84,000 aspects of the Dharma, and so on. The heart essence of all the Buddhas of the three times, the lamas, deities, ḍākinīs, Dharma protectors, and the like is encompassed by this mantra. The reason for this is as follows. Listen well and hold this in your heart. Recite the mantra. Write it. Tell it to sentient beings in the future.