Tag: dream yoga

Gateway to the Nagual’s World – South the place of Dreaming

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

In my case, don Juan wanted an omen before he taught me the ritual. That omen came when don Juan and I were driving through a border town in Arizona and a policeman stopped me. The policeman thought I was an illegal alien. Only after I had shown him my passport, which he suspected of being a forgery, and other documents, did he let me go. Don Juan had been in the front seat next to me all the time, and the policeman had not given him a second glance. He had focused solely on me. Don Juan thought the incident was the omen he was waiting for.

His interpretation of it was that it would be very dangerous for me to call attention to myself, and he concluded that my world had to be one of utter simplicity and candor – elaborate ritual and pomp were out of character for me. He conceded, however, that a minimal observance of ritualistic patterns was in order when I made my acquaintance with his warriors. I had to begin by approaching them from the south, because that is the direction that power follows in its ceaseless flux. Life force flows to us from the south, and leaves us flowing toward the north. He said that the only opening to a Nagual’s world was through the south, and that the gate was made by two female warriors, who would have to greet me and would let me go through if they so decided.

He took me to a town in central Mexico, to a house in the countryside. As we approached it on foot from a southerly direction, I saw two massive Indian women standing four feet apart, facing each other. They were about thirty or forty feet away from the main door of the house, in an area where the dirt was hard-packed. The two women were extraordinarily muscular and stern. Both had long, jet-black hair held together in a single thick braid. They looked like sisters. They were about the same height and weight – I figured that they must have been around five feet four, and weighed 150 pounds. One of them was extremely dark, almost black, the other much lighter. They were dressed like typical Indian women from central Mexico – long, full dresses and shawls, homemade sandals.

Don Juan made me stop three feet from them. He turned to the woman on our left and made me face her. He said that her name was Cecilia and that she was a dreamer. He then turned abruptly, without giving me time to say anything, and made me face the darker woman, to our right. He said that her name was Delia and that she was a stalker. The women nodded at me. They did not smile or move to shake hands with me, or make any gesture of welcome. Don Juan walked between them as if they were two columns marking a gate. He took a couple of steps and turned as if waiting for the women to invite me to go through. The women stared at me calmly for a moment. Then Cecilia asked me to come in, as if I were at the threshold of an actual door.

Don Juan led the way to the house. At the front door we found a man. He was very slender. At first sight he looked extremely young, but on closer examination he appeared to be in his late fifties. He gave me the impression of being an old child: small, wiry, with penetrating dark eyes. He was like an elfish apparition, a shadow. Don Juan introduced him to me as Emilito, and said that he was his courier and all-around helper, who would welcome me on his behalf.

It seemed to me that Emilito was indeed the most appropriate being to welcome anyone. His smile was radiant; his small teeth were perfectly even. He shook hands with me, or rather he crossed his forearms and clasped both my hands. He seemed to be exuding enjoyment; anyone would have sworn that he was ecstatic in meeting me. His voice was very soft and his eyes sparkled.

We walked into a large room. There was another woman there. Don Juan said that her name was Teresa and that she was Cecilia’s and Delia’s courier. She was perhaps in her early thirties, and she definitely looked like Cecilia’s daughter. She was very quiet but very friendly. We followed don Juan to the back of the house, where there was a roofed porch.

It was a warm day. We sat there around a table, and after a frugal dinner we talked until after midnight. Emilito was the host. He charmed and delighted everyone with his exotic stories. The women opened up. They were a great audience for him. To hear the women’s laughter was an exquisite pleasure. They were tremendously muscular, bold, and physical. At one point, when Emilito said that Cecilia and Delia were like two mothers to him, and Teresa like a daughter, they picked him up and tossed him in the air like a child.

Of the two women, Delia seemed the more rational, down- to-earth. Cecilia was perhaps more aloof, but appeared to have greater inner strength. She gave me the impression of being more intolerant, or more impatient; she seemed to get annoyed with some of Emilito’s stories. Nonetheless, she was definitely on the edge of her chair when he would tell what he called his “tales of eternity.” He would preface every story with the phrase, ‘Do you, dear friends, know that. . . ?’

The story that impressed me most was about some creatures that he said existed in the universe, who were the closest thing to human beings without being human; creatures who were obsessed with movement and capable of detecting the slightest fluctuation inside themselves or around them. These creatures were so sensitive to motion that it was a curse to them. It gave them such pain that their ultimate ambition was to find quietude. Emilito would intersperse his tales of eternity with the most outrageous dirty jokes. Because of his incredible gifts as a raconteur, I understood every one of his stories as a metaphor, a parable, with which he was teaching us something.

 Don Juan said that Emilito was merely reporting about things he had witnessed in his journeys through eternity. The role of a courier was to travel ahead of the Nagual, like a scout in a military operation. Emilito went to the limits of the second attention, and whatever he witnessed he passed on to the others.

—————–

From “The Eagle’s Gift” by Carlos Castaneda, Part Three.

  • The gate to our property is in the South. Currently there is a beat up Citroen there…

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

~ quantumdreamer ~ 1 Comment

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

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

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

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

I start to chant quietly to myself in the dream.

“gate gate pāragate pārasaṃgate bodhi svāhā”

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

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

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

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

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

Omen – Coincidence or Dreaming Symbol?

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

We have not long gotten back from the supermarket. The road directly in front of our house, on a slope, on a bend and near a bridge over the river was blocked off. There were fire brigade, ambulances, road safety geezers and cop-like officials. We could not get past the road block and into our house. There had been an accident at the exact place where our drive joins the departmental road. From the conversations overheard the police had breathalysed one of the drivers and another had skidded off the road and into a field. I can still hear them chatting outside and doors going on the vans. Nobody seemed injured because the ambulances were not speeding off.

Exactly six weeks ago to the day and almost the hour a car had come off the road and rolled over into our drive. This was when I was being operated on for the hip replacement. The wife got back to wait while I was operated on and found the road blocked.

Two car accidents at around 10:30 AM spaced by exactly six weeks just outside our front door might be a coincidence or an omen. It could be a dreaming symbol.

What are the odds of this happening? Discuss…

Yes on both occasions there was a small amount of ice. But this is the first time that this has happened on “our” corner in over six years.

Cars, states of awareness, belonging to other people, have crashed and skidded even rolled over outside our house, our view of the world. The awareness of others has crashed and been upended. It has been brought to a halt.

Interpreting the dream somebodies {somewhere} state of awareness has been turned on its head just outside our house.

I wonder who this might refer to?

Are there more crashes to come?

Spooky…

Left Eye Surgery – Electrodes – Kate Bush – Dream 30-12-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s dream had before 8 AM.

The scene starts with me approaching Guingamp hospital from the downhill side into the old “severe” style hospital building. I go up the hill and into a main entrance lobby. The slightly brutalist view gives way to an old style hospital corridor with brick-red sealed painted floors. The nursing staff wear starchy white linen skirts with little nursing hats. I am being admitted into the eye surgery ward.

The nurses doing the admissions are speaking to me in English. Using baby English and short sentences. I say, “on peut parler français”. But they ignore me and carry on trying English. The nurse sits me on the side of an old style hospital bed with a white painted metal frame. She shows me an image of me with my left eye held open with various clamps like in “A Clockwork Orange”. The image focusses on my left eye only which is enlarged in comparison to my right eye. She shows how they might cut the eye with a scalpel to improve the quality and depth of my “seeing”. She says that they are going to focus on my “seeing” in my left eye. Someone comes in and taps her on the shoulder. They are ready for me up in the ward.

Together with a porter she wheels the bed along the corridor and through a nurse’s station into a ward. The ward is packed with people in beds. The beds are very close and she wheels me up next to the back wall of the ward. The people of the ward are of mixed ages and social status, around a dozen. They are all glad to see me and relax because I am now there.

Sat at a small desk is a senior female doctor in a lab coat and with dark hair. Surprisingly she is talking home counties English and I can imagine her with a G&T at Henley.  She is not very happy being there and talks to her team only in English. I ask her how long she has been here. Too long is her reply.  A nurse says to me that the time for my operation approaches and they need to fit electrodes to me to monitor my heart. She turns her back to get the electrodes. I get off the bed and stand on small box, now naked apart from my black boxer shorts. I can clearly see the recent scar from my operation. All the other incisions I have had are also highlighted. I stand there bare chested with my hairy chest exposed. I say that they may need to shave me. They attach electrodes and I stand there on the box with my arms pointing downwards in a pose made famous by the Abu Garib torture victim. The view zooms out and all that can be seen is a semi naked me with electrodes attached all over my chest and body arms open, my palms turned out and arms pointing downwards.

I am then lying back on the bed and a male nurse inserts an oxygen tube into my nostrils. He says that they are going to introduce some Ketamine vapour into the flow in order to relax me for the operation which is soon. I comment that I am already relaxed.

I am now walking with Kate Bush in the hospital grounds. I am dressed in my boxers and a very loose fitting open hospital gown. She is wearing her grey hakama pants and top from the “Running up That Hill” video. She asks me with more of a lisp than usual what I make of it all. I say that it is metaphorical and that the left eye is all about feeling and seeing. That it is no bad thing for me to develop some more feeling and perhaps compassion. I have a penchant for the austere, the vast and the cosmic. She says that yes it is a metaphor and that the dreaming to which she pertains is all about feeling and snow. She says that sometimes it is good to have THE feeling. She asks me how I feel about having the clamps and the surgery. I say that it is a metaphor and that the “seeing” can be a mixed blessing. I say that my left eye has always been metaphorically enlarged. She, a dreamer, has always known this about me.

The dream ends.

Doctor’s Surgery – Virgo – Castle Keep Dream 26-12-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s dream.

The dream opens with me visiting a very busy unknown general practitioner doctors surgery. I go up to a receptionist and ask for an appointment. The receptionist gives me an appointment. I go outside onto a small verge outside the surgery to take a ‘phone call. I have both ‘phones, the wife’s and mine. I go back inside and the time for the appointment has passed. The doctors are getting together for a practice lunchtime meeting. I show one of the doctors my right wrist and one can see the flesh translucent red around a glowing inner bone structure. She says that I should come back after lunch because she wants to look at my wrist.

I go home for lunch. In the dream I know that our lives and our situation here are quite precarious. It is a reminder to take nothing for granted. Our welcome could change easily. It is a reminder to stay humble and harmless. Again it is a reminder to appreciate everything and take nothing for granted, to have no sense of entitlement whatsoever.

I go home for lunch and the wife wants to know what is going on. I tell her that I have another appointment and that it looked like the practice was having a big conflab about the future. I go back to the doctors and the female doctor from before ushers me into her office. She asks me how long my wrist has been like this quasi-transparent anatomical. How long have I been able to see the bones. I say that it is only recent and it came after a stumble or fall. The reason I came to visit is because it did not pass of its own right.

She is curious and hands me a piece of paper with the Virgo symbol on.

♍︎

The piece of paper is by way of a prescription and I must use it.

I leave the office and walk around to some renovated ruins of a castle keep. Outside the keep but within the castle walls is a small walled are with a lattice work of stones on the ground. Out of these grass is growing. I can see the modern day use as an occasional car park. I can also see the mediaeval use where the walled area was partially grassed over. There are horses there, which are cared for and fed. There are bales of hay and in one corner a shit heap for the waste. I can see the two periods early medieval and modern day co-existing. I can smell the smoke from woodfires from the 12th century.

The dream reiterates not to take anything for granted and it reminds me to look at harmlessness. That I can simply be too much for people.

The dream ends.