Tag: dream yoga

Former Imperial Colleagues – Big Japan Trip Dream – 01-06-2025

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Here is last night’s dream. Out of the blue. I have not spoken with any of the people in it for ~ twenty years!!

The dream starts in a small seminar room. It has a London, Imperial College feel. The décor is bland with diffuse bright overhead lighting. There are multipurpose tables at which are set two people, each. The tables are arranged in a U-shape and I am at a table by myself at the focus of the U-shape.

Sat around the tables are various ex-colleagues from Imperial College. They are all professors and some are now “big-cheeses”. They are all from the age cohort slightly younger than me. My direct age equivalent ex-colleagues are noticeable by their absence. The “job” has been handed to the younger incumbents. They are mostly male, with a few women. I had no “problem” with any of them historically. They have the brief to find a solution and make amends. Something has been cobbled together, some suggestions. This they have just presented to me. I cannot recall what.

I say to them that I am in no way interested in what they have just suggested. That they have the wrong idea about where I am coming from and what I might want. Which is close to nothing. That they are looking at things solely from their perspective. I am not like them and do not share their motivations.

There is a faint ripple of unease. I say that I am leaving and walk slowly, relaxed, out of the door, which is behind me.

The scene changes to a London airport terminal. I have been booked along with others for a big high profile visit to Japan which includes some technology and some cultural things. I am not keen from the get-go. I notice that my chest is wheezy and take a Ventolin inhaler. It remains a bit wheezy. I decide that it would be mad for me to travel to Japan for a long high profile visit. I know that the tour organiser will be at the airport well before all the others might arrive. Implicit is some of my age equivalent academic peer group. I make my way there.

I approach the woman who is young and smartly dressed with dark hair. I explain that she had better cancel my flight and all the other things associated with the trips in order to get as much as a refund as possible. She is unconvinced. I wheeze for her. She says that for the insurance she will need a medical opinion. A doctor is summoned and they concur that is it is unwise for me to travel. She cancels my ticket. She asks me to try to buy a ticket to find out what the going rate is. I go to the British Airways desk and inquire. The price is multiple thousands of pounds because it is cherry blossom season. I go back to the woman with this information. She is in a video call with a Japanese restaurant chain cancelling my meal plan for the week, which amount to tens of thousands of Yen. She cancels my suite at the hotel in central Tokyo. I say that I made a private reservation at Langham’s restaurant where I have been before and ask her to cancel this. She does.

There is some time before all the others get there. She tells me to buy a ticket to London which I do. I do not know where the airport is now. I sit down at a computer terminal and start doing a Japanese language quiz. One of her colleagues comes over to me and is surprised that I am doing so well on the Japanese. I explain to him that I have been many times before and spent time with a man and his family in Sendai. He suggests that the man was gay. I say not because I have been around quite a few gay men and understand them well. He is upset that I am not going on their carefully organised trip. I say that I am too unwell to travel and that in general my health is very poor. People do not understand how bad it is.

The dream ends.

Turnpike Inn – Ghost – Hitech – Pink Tablets Dreams – 12-05-2025.

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Here are last night’s dreams.

The first dream starts in a 18th century style horse drawn carriage. It is closed and very much like an Adam Ant video. We are heading north to Edinburgh. There is a couple who are well off, myself and my helper / lieutenant. I am dressed casually in white blouson and with my long grey hair tied back in a pony tail. It is getting towards dusk. We will be staying at a large turnpike inn just inside the borders.

We pull up in front of the inn and the horsemen steady the horses and let them drink. We dismount and I am greeted by the landlord who has been waiting for me. He has a lantern and is accompanied by his wife. He has a Scottish brogue. The otherwise bustling turnpike inn is fairly deserted. He has called me north to investigate. There have been a series of haunting /poltergeist like happenings which have scared his customers.

He leads me into the bar and we have a drink out of pewter cups. It is some kind of port. He asks me how I want to proceed. He then comes with me upstairs into a wood panelled suite with a large four poster style bed and a dressing room with commode. He says that this is where most of the “action” is. He puts a lantern, the port bottle and a pewter cup on the table. He backs out nervously.

I know this physical body from before. I pull my pony tail gently. I introduce myself to who/whatever is there. I take a cushion off the bed and put it on the floor next to the wall. I sit there with the cup full by my side. I am getting ready to wait. I can see my pantaloons, the tops of my stockings and my brown leather riding boots.

I say out loud, “Don’t be afraid because I am not. If you wish to materialise, please feel free. I will just sit here. What troubles you, what ails you? I am happy to discus and help put your mind at rest.”

I reach over and blow out the lantern and sit quietly adjusting to the darkness. In the night I can start to see. I note the semblance of fog-like patterns forming. I start to get a very strong sense of camaraderie as if someone/thing has sat opposite me on the floor. It is the ghost. He is now relaxed. We just sit and share each other’s company. He has no need to talk. We just feel.

This segment ends. This more towards dawn.

The next segment starts in a very brightly lit hospital environment. I am on a hospital bed which is raised for me to sit up. In the corner of the room is the large doughnut of an unspecified high-tech scanner. A male nurse is taking a cannula out of my arm through which I have had contrast agent. I know that it is a CT scanner. The nurse is chatting away.

A young girl who is in a wheelchair comes in. She manoeuvres towards my bed curious of me and what is going on. She has a nasal oxygen supply and is wearing a hospital gown. She is hairless and smiling with me. Her parents come in and call her name, Abby. They come over to us and say hi to me.

A female doctor in a white coat comes in with a small retinue of medical students. She hands me a blister of large bright Rhodamine-pink tablets each about the size of the end of my little finger. She gives me a small bottle of medicine. She hands several blisters of pink tablets to the girl’s parents. Her tablets are the size of the end of my thumb. I joke with her that the doctor has mistaken her for a horse or an elephant. She says that she is used to these tablets. I know that these tablets are very high dose steroids. They are on clinical trial. We both have to take them.

The dream ends.

Maybe I Was an Alpaca?

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This morning’s dream points {again} to some kind of Tibetan incarnation, perhaps some lama-dude. I have long held this possibility at arm’s length because I have had no waking memory of such a thing. The dream indicates a time stamp roughly of 1960 when things were bad in Tibet and a number of lamas left. We hear about the ones who made it. We don’t hear about the ones who did not.

They may have been vulture food.

I did once go to a dzong in London and had an “empowerment” by Tulku Akong Rinpoche. A lama who along with Chögyam Trungpa escaped from Tibet during the Chinese excess.

I have often wondered why no waking recall. The only answer I came up with is that life as a monk is so very boring that there is little to remember, no outstanding dramatic events. Tedium, day after day routine.

If the dream points at a very recent incarnation, then that hints at something like a tulku incarnation, where one life follows quickly.

That does not really impinge on the current health problems and search for a nanna-flat. In a sense it is little more than a phenomenological possibility when viewed from life circumstance. I do not see nor feel that there is much / anything left for me to do.

I have hypothesised that there have been many failures, way more than “successes”. We only hear of the latter because it is they who have ongoing wider significance. In a way quiet failure fertilizes the ground for success.

I am at something of an impasse on the health front and cannot currently see any further steps. There is nothing urgent and I can tolerate the pain and lack of sleep. We need to move house before even thinking about any operation. It is not a complicated equation, for now.

I am currently where I am not seeing medical intervention as something positive and healing. It seems like a necessary thing and to be endured even. It does not fill me with hope for an easier existence.

Do I have to? Well maybe it is sensible.

Who knows what if any dreams will follow tonight…

Tibetan Plateau, Gold, Lama Dream 1-11-2011

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Prompted by this morning’s dream I found this one in the vaults, so to speak.

Dream Diary 1-11

I am outside with Charlie. He and I are loading bricks into the trunk / boot of a car. The bricks have curly writing on them, it is not Sanskrit or Tibetan. They are golden and more like large ingots of gold.

He and I are now on a long journey across the mountains on a plateau which is in Tibet. With us is a smiling lama who is our guide, guard and escort. He is showing us the way. The landscape is very sparse and rocky with scree falls. I look at the lama’s physique and it is very similar to mine only that he is shorter and obviously Tibetan. I say that I didn’t know that they built Tibetans like that…

As we continue on our journey. Charlie and I are now wearing saffron and magenta monk’s robes. This journey is to be extensive. As we move forward Charlie is often out in front exploring the different routes. At one stage we need to pick up speed. The Tibetan monk picks up his companion, also a monk, and carries him piggy-back. I do the same with Charlie. I am not sure that I can walk and climb at this altitude like this. After a few steps I realise that I can and easily so.

A little later the trail becomes tortuous and Charlie is way ahead up the hill. He comes down back to me via a slippery and windy route. I find a more direct route. This is a part of a long journey together.  

Back now in London, we are at a Tibetan Dzong as guests of honour. Sat waiting are Charlie , the wife and I. We are offered some western food. I turn to her and say that she had better tuck in before they come out with the yak’s butter….

Dream ends

Tibetan Food Tibetan Caravan Aberfan – Reincarnation – Dream 24-04-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream

The dream starts in an airy metropolitan indoor market. The roofs are high and glass. There is a hubbub and the mood is light. There are many trendy food pop-ups. The area is opulent. I am outside a Tibetan food pop-up stall with some upper middle class English people. They are going on about how wonderful the stall is and that it is good to support the exiles, the diaspora. We order some food and sit at a “pub” table. It comprises a semi-leavened bread a bit smaller than a naan, some sausages tied with string and a spicey vegetable side relish with dark green overtones. The sausage is served on a wooden board with a very sharp wooden handled knife to share amongst us. They, in their safe luxury, do not understand hardship.

The scene changes to a harsh barren mountainous landscape. It is cold and we are navigating the sides of a valley. From time to time scree has fallen which makes the path difficult to navigate. We are fleeing, escaping. I am wearing a heavy fleece lined animal skin jacket and pointy hat with ear flaps. My skin is darker and dry. I am Tibetan. I feel windblown and hungry. There are around twenty of us in the caravan which is mostly on foot with some donkey like animals carrying supplies. We have been traveling for days. We cannot light a fire until night fall, because the smoke will be seen. I am armed with a pistol in a holster on my waist. Others in the party are more heavily armed with old-style rifles.

A couple of men who have gone ahead join us. They have found a spot to camp for the night. We round a bend into a flattish area in the valley wall next to a small stream. The men start to make camp, it is heavy work. As has become the custom they set me down on a rock and give me a bag of flour and some bowls. There are some other powders. Before it gets dark, I start making several batches of dough. They joke my soft hands make the best bread. I set the dough aside covered with cloths.

I prepare some wood for a fire and as soon as it is dark, set it alight. When it is hot enough, I get out a wok-like pan and start to cook the breads having greased the pan first. The smell is great and I make batch after batch. The other men are similarly dressed but have a military bearing. They are protecting me. We all gather round and someone gets out some relish which he adds to a bowl. He then gives each of us a length of string-tied sausage which we cut with our own knives, kept in a hip scabbard. There is water to drink from the steam. All of us a weary. There is a sense in the dream that I will die soon and not make it.

The scene changes to black and white. It is a newsreel of early 1960s London. With buses at Picadilly circus and people in suits. It talks of fashion and life in the city.

Next, I am sat with my sister. We are very young less than three years old. We are in my nan’s house in the Rhondda valley. I can hear a vast rumbling from the mountainside. Instinctively I know that it is the coal tip sliding down the mountain. I grab my sister and we go to sit crouched outside close against the wall by the back door. The landslide continues and the house is knocked down but by the door frame remains intact. Coal waste pours past us and we get covered in dust. The slide stops and the coal starts to burn glowing red in the heat. I know that we must sit tight and that it will be fine. I can lift us both up out of the area to fly to a nearby grassy part. In the dream I hear the words Aberfan and sense that it has not yet happened.

I know beyond doubt that this dream is about reincarnation.

The dream ends

Notes

I was born in Cardiff in 1964. My sister was born March 1966.

The Aberfan disaster (Welsh: Trychineb Aberfan) was the catastrophic collapse of a colliery spoil tip on 21 October 1966. The tip had been created on a mountain slope above the Welsh village of Aberfan, near Merthyr Tydfil, and overlaid a natural spring. Heavy rain led to a build-up of water within the tip which caused it to suddenly slide downhill as a slurry, killing 116 children and 28 adults as it engulfed Pantglas Junior School and a row of houses.

Dream Within a Dream, Dream 21-2-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream.

The dream starts in a central European city with a long and elegant history. It has a feel like old-town central Vienna. I am in an ornate and semi-antique laden room. I am sat at a low “coffee” table in a small leather bound armchair. I can smell the leather.

A man walks into the room. His is nearly as tall as the doorway and well over six feet tall. He moves with grace, poise and elegance. He has long, not quite shoulder length, luxuriant blonde hair which falls partially across his face. He looks and feels like Michael York. {Closest match}

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–

He is expensively dressed though the clothes are not new. He has expensive English shoes on. His air is European of indeterminate nature, though slightly Scandi-Germanic. He is of noble and aristocratic stock. Although I have never met him in person I know him from my Toltec meditations fifteen years ago. He is Toltec nagal of high degree.

He sits in a large dark green leather chair alongside me. I can see a ring on his finger, a gold stud in his left ear and an expensive looking Swiss gold watch.

We are very pleased to see each other and amused at the circumstance.

He tells me that he has had a dream which he would like to discuss with me. I say that I like doing this. He knows.

He says that in the dream he goes to a tailors in St James’s London. There he is ushered into a back room for a fitting. They ask him to partially undress and then offer him a pristine dark, near jet black suit to try on. It is near a dinner jacket but not quite. The material he says was exquisite and the fit near perfect.

He says that the tailor says that they have been saving this suit for him for a long time. They have been waiting. The sleeves are ever so slightly too long. The tailor takes the jacket and scuttles off to the back room. In the meantime, an assistant removes his shirt and fits him with a crisp new white shirt without a collar. He places small ornate cufflinks to the wrists. They have an initial on which he knows is his.

The tailor returns and puts the jacket on. It now fits perfectly. He is encouraged to walk up and down the room and inspect in a mirror. As he does this, he notes in the left lower outer jacket pocket a lump. He reaches in a pulls out a fluorescent green-yellow tennis ball cut exactly in half. He puts one half in each hand and looks carefully at it. The dream ends on that note.

I say to him that a long while ago I used to frequent St James’s, implicit is not just in this lifetime.

He asks me what I make of it.

I say to him that the feeling of the tennis ball is that of all the cleavages in the world which is rife now with separation and division. That the new suit represents for him a new role which he must step into. He is ready, fit for it. He has been waiting for a long time and it now nears.

He says that this was pretty much what he thought.

He reaches into his left jacket pocket and hands to me a fluorescent green-yellow tennis ball cut exactly in half.

He jokes that wherever he goes he now keeps finding them…

The dream ends.

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.

Wolfgang – Switzerland – Being Slagged Off – Martial Arts Grading – UKE Dream 07-04-2025

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Here is last night’s dream. I was on much reduced medication to see how I coped. Sleep was not deep.

The dream starts in a communal office setting. Wolfgang {flat mate – and subsequent employee} is sat opposite me. He has a thin pencil moustache and something of a mullet, neither of which he was accustomed to have. He is upset with me because he thinks that I have been mean to him and reneged on our friendship. I have done no such thing to my eyes. I know in the dream that because I do not do transactional “friendships” I do not have “friends” in the traditional social sense. I am very poor at “normal” friendships. I do not do mutual praise and ego stroking. People cannot relate to me because they do not get the normal feedback they are expecting. I say to Wolfgang that he may have misjudged.

The scene now coalesces to the shared common room area of our floor in the University of Bern. Sat around the table are many of the people from the research group. Wolfgang says in front of them all, that they have all been slagging me off and bad mouthing me, partially because I did not fit in and suck up. He says that I was always the outsider. I say to him that it is in no way new to me to have people gossip and slag me off behind my back whilst pretending to be nice and friendly to my face. I say that people can be very mercenary when they think that I have something(s) they want. I say to him that he needs to get over it, his misplaced upset. I say that his moustache looks ridiculous.

The scene changes to a large martial arts dojo. I am dressed in a judogi wearing a dark green belt around my middle. I am with the sensei, and he is showing me a list of people who are up for their blue belt grading. In this schema, blue is below green. There are a lot of people due for grading and we, the higher grades, are to be uke to their tori. We know that gradings are about form and not real combat. We will be willingly thrown about by numerous people doing their gradings in order for them to learn.

I am up first with four people one from each direction. East, North, West and South.  The people are of ill-defined gender and wearing judogi already with a light blue belt, the colour of which they seek to upgrade. One by one they come to me and holding a fighting stance assume their left hand in an upper block, jodan-uke. I place my arm similarly wrist to wrist. We then start to apply force and ki. They are trying to hold their position. I let them match me for a while and continue to ramp up until I start to sense them falter. Knowing that this is not about me winning rather them having an experience, I ease back just before breaking point. I do this with the first three directions. The woman from the South has defined gender and when she comes up for stance there is no need, because we already understand each other.

I know that there are hundreds more to come in the grading session. On the mat practice continues and we know, the sensei and I, that they have never yet experienced full contact combat which is a game changer.

The dream ends.

Dreaming – I Don’t Mind What Happens

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One can find Jiddu Krishnamurti quoted as saying that his secret is that he does not mind what happens. This implies a lack of any goal orientation, preferred outcome, expectation or attachment. He may have omitted, “I do not mind what happens to me.” If one lives in the eternal now there is no concern for past or future, simply moment. One is not chained by the manacles of “what if” or of “if only.” There is a confidence that one can handle everything which life and the universe offers, free of prejudice. Even if that seems unpleasant and challenging. One is confident in ability to improvise and cope.

I have talked about my medical conditions here, which would be rather dramatic for many. It is just a fact of life for me. OMG spinal surgery may be involved… He has seen a brain surgeon and is getting a cancer check up in May….

There is not too much drama in my mind. The pain can be a tad boring. I don’t think there is an exact translation into French. Monotonous is probably close but does not have the nuance.

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–

I am not worried about what if anything happens to whatever it is that I may or may not know. The thought forms exist now and could be accessed in the web of life in due course. If and when the time is due. I don’t currently see a use for me. I am surplus.

The dreaming takes time, decades sometimes.

I have had the first hint, in the dream this morning, that the time in France maybe drawing to a close. There has not been much for me here. The French are not very pro-active. I am in no way integrated. There will be no significant material plane impact should I leave. Only the medics and the checkout ladies will notice.

I have a few more medical appointments programmed. Then, soon, it will be the big summer holidays. Unless the colonoscopy shows anything sinister, that will probably be it until the Autumn. I will get my asthma medication renewed in July. I am not anticipating any solution, any diagnosis and treatment that will result in significant alleviation of symptoms. It looks to me that I dotting and T crossing data collection is occurring.

Following on from the dream we have been looking at on-line estate agents again. Affordability coupled with relative southerly locations limits us to probably South and West Wales in the UK. The property situation in France remains constipated. We need proximity and communications to university grade hospitals.

The problem is that the world is swirling. The web of life has been whacked unnecessarily by orange-boi.  The Nikkei and the Hang Seng could tank further in a few short hours. This is a factor which is against any house moving.

A house move is the dreaming symbol for adopting a new view of the world. Here it is expansive, it has gotten too big. Perhaps the need is simply to shrink and consolidate.

We shall see what the dreaming suggests. It will influence our decisions significantly. The dreaming will show us the way.

I don’t mind what happens – the dreams will suffice.