Tag: dream

ॐमणिपद्मेहूँ – om mane padme hum – Tattoo Dream Snippet 09-09-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

This dream snippet is from last night.

The dream opens with some kind of social gathering. I am with various young people mostly white in their early and mid twenties. They are talking among themselves. I am peripheral to but a part of the group. They start to discuss their tattoos and what, if any, meaning they have. Most of them have quite a few tattoos. Some only have one or two. They have deep meaning for some.

The conversation turns to me. They ask if I have any tattoos. I say that I have none that are generally visible to the naked eye. They do not believe me. So I take off my t-shirt and stand bare chested among them. Clearly I am not in such good physical shape but they are surprised at how heavily muscled I am. My body is older and much thicker than theirs.

I point to the inside of my forearms and say that I have “oṃ maṇi padme hūm̐” there tattooed in Sanskrit.

ॐ मणि पद्मे हूँ

It can be seen in a living blue-back ink by those who can. I say that I first noted these tattoos over twenty years’ ago when I lived in Brixton. This is when I had first vision of them. In the dream I can feel them {as I can now in writing}. I open my arms outwards to display my forearms to them. Some doubt and think I am teasing. They can see from the expression on my face and in my eyes that I am relaxed and telling my truth.

The dream ends

  • Before drifting off to sleep several hours before the dream I was silently chanting AUM, A-U-M or ॐ

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Laser – TOF Mass Spectrometer – Humanoid Baby – VCs – Dream 08-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. It is has no commonality with what is going on for life on the compound nor my current thought streams.

The dream starts pulling up by car at an out of town high technology science park, there is a large brick built sign holder made of light sandy coloured bricks. On it there is a darkened bronze name plate announcing the name of the science park in a raised lettering which I cannot read. The country is unspecified and generic. There is sun shining on the grass next to the “welcome” sign. There are loads of high technology companies and start-ups.

The scene changes and I am in a very white ultra-high technology laboratory with instrumentation on benches. It is a biotechnology start-up. I am with two young Ph.D.  / Postdoc aged women. One is brown Asian in colouration and she has a brightly coloured Muslim headscarf on. Which contrasts her bright low fibre loss white lab coat. She is with a European woman of slight stature who has a clipboard. The Muslim is the boss. They are showing me around their facility.

My eye catches a ring dye laser encapsulated in a Perspex box. The dye being used is one of the orange Rhodamine dyes. There are multiple fine jets intercepted by pump laser beams. I know that this is an ultra-narrow-linewidth laser. It is part of a very sophisticated laser desorption laser ionisation time of flight (TOF) mass spectrometer. It has a mass resolution of better than 1 part in 10,000. I know that this is brought about by intracavity absorption of the ring dye laser ionisation beam.

The women are unsure as to how to explain things to me. I explain that I used to do mass resolved resonant multiphoton ionisation of mixed isotope deuterium hydrogen water clusters. I am familiar with isotopic ratios and high mass resolution. Relieved they explain that this is very important to them. They need the resolution to probe the nature of human tissue lab grown in other parts of the facility. They are using isotopic labelling to monitor the tissue growth parameters. The intracavity absorption has enabled an ultra-light gentle ionisation regime, no sledgehammer.

In walks two men in around their forties. One of them is a suit the other a scientist. Before we go to the next stage we must all don ultra-low fibre loss lab boiler suits with  pale blue elasticated cuffs at wrists and ankles. It is fibre loss from the clothes which is bad. Skin and hair do not matter.

Suitably attired the scientist man flicks a switch and I can hear air filling. He raises  a clear plastic dome to reveal a humanoid baby about the size of a two-year old. It is a male and completely naked. It has a large umbilicus containing many wires and tubes. The man holds the baby in blue lab gloved hands and turns it towards me. I understand it to be an artificial baby, an android. It is clothed in very human like flesh which has been grown in the facility. They currently have a license to do this. The flesh is very life like and convincing. The baby is moving slightly and I can see an artificial heart pumping inside. There are veins and arteries.

The suit distracts my attention and talks about their programme. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the smaller woman take an arterial blood sample. They put the baby back into its dome and seal it. I can hear gases being evacuated from the dome. We all disrobe out of the lab coats which we hang on hooks by the door.

The suit gestures to the women to take me to one side. A short while later the scientist returns and says to the suit that the dissolved carbon dioxide in the blood was too high. I can hear him say 3. It is not clear what units he is using. I go over to the suit-CEO and the scientist and ask them what this 3 means. They say that it is nothing to worry about though a little high. They are bullshitting. I know that I am a part of a venture capital (VC) inspection team sent into the facility. There have been concerns from the investors and the next funding round is due. I can tell that the men are worried. I press them about the programme and they say that some of the earlier prototypes showed similar and higher carbon dioxide levels. This needs to be reduced before the humanoid can be autonomous. They don’t know that I have a large personal investment in the VC fund and that I am highly sceptical.

The dream ends and I think “that was fucking weird”.

Chaotic Mess Dream etc. 05-09-2025

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Last night we watched “The Thursday Murder Club” which was enjoyable. I suspect that if I am in some kind of nanna community setting {soon?} I might well get involved in any protest. Somehow I might end up on some kind of committee.

Last night I had a series of dreaming snippets that went at rollercoaster speed. They were on a recurrent theme of MESS, massive messes made by others which somehow how pertain to me. They are not my messes to solve. Multiple people once acquainted to me are involved, they created these messes because of their behaviour to me. They have not treated me well and done stuff behind my back which cannot be undone. They have showed me a lack of respect. They have bad mouthed me in one way or another.

The snippets were so fast that I did not make significant effort to recall them.

–

–

Somehow I do not the fit the mould of behaviour I am supposed to. I am not as they imagine someone with my background {reincarnations included} to be.  People invariably judge a book by its cover.

The thing is “spiritual” and karmic messes cannot be solved via traditional wheeler-dealer-itchy-back-toady-cash-position-bribery games. Sorry does never unpick karmic debts. But people might imagine that the normal playbook always applies. They are mistaken.

In the Tibetan tradition it is customary to approach a high lama for blessings and to have them place a white silk-like khata scarf over your head. This is considered auspicious and the offering, in both directions, must be made with respect, compassion and purity of motive.

In our what-is-in-it-for-me day and age, purity of motive is as rare as a rare thing on the 29th of February.

The dream was so chaotic and disordered, with people imagining that they could blag it, wing it and generally go through the motions and “get away with it”.

People try to use the same strategies and behaviour that gets them into messes as a way to extract themselves from said mess. This is not a sane or wise approach. But you cannot advise the omniscient in any meaningful way.

They know best after all…

They are insistent on repeating their folly over and over.
 

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

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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.

—–

——

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 artic 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.

Retreat Centre (dreaming) – Snake Bite Dream 01-09-2025

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Here is last night’s dream had between 3:30 and 7 AM.

The dream starts somewhere in England. I am with a man who is slightly older than me, with grey-white hair. He is dressed in a casual cream-white linen suit and has a “posh” accent. He shows me into a detached building which I understand to be some kind of a retreat centre. He is very “arcane school” in his use of language and manner. He thinks that he is superior and more evolved than I. He ushers me into the building and to a conservatory at the back  of the kitchen. The others will be here soon.

We are joined by a few women of my age and slightly younger. They are all dressed in a vaguely posh-hippy manner with chunky jewellery and expensive died hair. Some are from SES. They are surprised to see me there. The man says that I am there at his invitation. They want to know a little bit about me.

I say that I have read very extensively into things “spiritual” and that in this lifetime I have been doing a dreaming practice since 2000. They say that they like dreams. I say that maybe they should keep a journal of what happens when I am with them because a being like me, from the deep South, can have a dramatic effect on dreaming. We are dreaming.

One of the women asks If I will help her put up the Christmas decorations, she is large and plump and clearly a dreamer by prediction also from the South. We put the decorations up. I start to play with a large great Dane dog on the floor.  I lie down with it face to face and we play. I the  say that we should eat. There is some resistance but soon we all pull the tables together. Lucy walks in and she is known to them. They are surprised that I know her too. I explain that we are exactly twenty years separated in birth having been born on the same day. They ask me if she lied to me. I say that she did not necessarily tell me the full truth.

I ask what time the village shop closes. It should be open until five. I go and return with some wine and cider; some bread and a chocolate log.

I go outside with Lucy and we stand on a hillock in the garden next to an apple tree. From there we can see the sea and perhaps France. I ask her how she is but she is off staring a little into the distance. We share a silence for a long time and then go back into the house.

I comment that when I was in the village, I saw large black bears. “What are you supposed to do?” They say make a lot of noise. I note in the dream that they do not know what will happen in the dreaming  because I am among them. They think they do, but they do not.

The scene changes to India. In a busy courtyard people are playing cricket. It is a makeshift pitch a bit like cricket nets. A young Indian man is batting with pads but no helmet. A tall Englishman in whites is bowling. He is being slogged all over. The bowler changes to a northerner. He picks up a thin black snake holding its head and jaws in his hand which he bowls at the batter. The batter misses. I go to inspect and pick up the snake. As I do this it bites my right hand on the fleshy part between thumb and index finger. I can feel it painlessly inject liquid. I gently ease the snake off my right hand with my left hand and it slithers off.

I start to feel a little unwell and a military type English man takes me up to his room. He wonders if I am allergic to the poison, the venom. If so, I will die. He puts me into his bed and calls for an ambulance. It will take many hours. The room is a shit tip and very tropical. I have the chills. He does not hold out much hope for me. He goes out onto the veranda to smoke. After a while I wake up refreshed and completely naked.  I see a pair of short navy-blue shorts on the internal washing line. They are like a pair I had 40 years ago. I put these shorts on and go out onto the veranda. The man is completely stunned and utterly shocked to see me up walking. The snake bite on my hand is completely healed. I say that I have nothing to worry about with nāgas.

The dream ends.

Toadies – Zuckerberg – AI-Bot -UK – Pianist – Dream 31-08-2025

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Here are last night’s dream segments. The first is USA based, the second UK. There was also a middle segment which I cannot recall.

The dream starts at some massive technology show / event with booths and plenaries. It is in the extended San Francisco Bay conurbation. The event is symptomatic of the location. I am with the “team” of Mark Zuckerberg. I have been summoned because he wants to talk to me about some of my ideas. For now I am simply among the swathe of toadies and sycophants who are following him through the event. The crowd parts as the swathe moves through the event. The young toadies, all “bright young things” are on the one hand obeying his request about me and, on the other, making sure that he does not get to talk with me. They are hype-merchants. They are almost aggressive to me because I am a fossil, a dinosaur, ancient history. They think that it “I” am a fad and that “Mark” will move past.

He stops at a big booth in which there are AI-Bots. These are roughly the size of a small human fist and work on a magnetic levitation principle.  They are a form of swarm survey bot sent out to analyse in groups. The method by which the bots are held together looks unusual because it is a field rather than a direct physical connection which holds some of the components together. He talks with the founders. The swathe moves on.

I stay behind and examine one of the bots. I am locked into the exhibition hall overnight. The next day Zuckerberg revisits. On a table covered with a white linen table cloth I have opened up, reverse engineered,  one for the bots for him to see. There are some superconducting core elements at the hearts of the bot. The toadies are not happy with me. They emanate this discontent.

I wake up and go back to sleep. There is an extensive part of dream maintaining to nature, trees and gardening.

The next scene opens up with me attending an event at a UK village/town hall community centre. The event is sizeable around several hundred people. As we enter, I can see a large grand piano. I am perhaps to play for them. I am sat at a table with others and have to endure a meal and soporific speeches about local politics. Yawn.

I go to the bathroom. To avoid the dessert I go to sit at the piano. It has shrunken into an electric keyboard. I know that the state of the piano-keyboard is symbolic of the minds of the participants. I start to test the keys out with no current on to check the feel.

The event continues. There is a short hiatus in the speeches and I can have a brief play for my warm up. The keyboard has shrunken even further so that it resembles a toy. I start to test the keys and the noise coming out is significant. The entire keyboard goes into a state of loud resonance. One of the organisers comes over and picks up the keyboard to stop the resonance. When it has calmed down. He replaces it. The time has come for me to play the keyboard. I cannot do this without the keyboard going into a freak-out overload resonance. It is clear that I am not meant to play for the audience because they, their minds, cannot hack it.

The dream ends

Seven Shots – Père-Lachaise – Soul Talking – Dream 29-08-2025

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Here is last night’s dream.

The dream starts with a view of me in a large bathtub. The bathtub is built-in and I can see the back of my head with arms and shoulders out of the water supporting me. The lighting is partial. It is night time and reminiscent of the death scene for Jim Morrison in the Doors film. There is an eerie silence. I can hear the breathing of the person through whom I am seeing the scene. I can feel his emotions. He is excited but livid and vengeful. He is bilious and hateful and wants very badly to kill me. He is dark and imbued with darkness. I know his “vibration” and the cloying energy he emanates. He sneaks closer. Using a handgun with silencer he fires five shots into the back of my head. I hear the sounds of a gun fitted with a suppressor. The head does not explode but jolts with each shot. He moves round to the front. Where I can see my face, through his eyes. He fires two more shots directly into my Ajna centre. I hear the sounds. The gun arm now lowers in his right hand. He is partially spent.

The scene changes to Père-Lachaise cemetery and to Jim Morrison’s grave bedecked in graffiti.

The scene changes to an isolated black room in which there is a stand alone white enamel old-school bath tub. It has a weak overhead light and is alone in the vast room. There is nothing else. I am completely naked in the bath tub and it has warm clear water. From inside the tub I can hear footsteps approaching. Someone is trying and failing to be quiet. The steps echo. They approach from behind and I can now hear their breath which also smells faintly of red wine. I feel the impact in the back of the head as they shoot me five times from close range with a silenced hand gun.

The person now comes round to the front of the bath and points the handgun at my forehead. I see the muzzle discharge flash as he fires twice into my Ajna centre. He is not looking into my eyes as he does this. When he is finished. I catch his eyes and hold them in my gaze. I stare deep into the recesses of his Soul. He is transfixed by my gaze. Slowly I get out of the water standing up stark naked and dripping wet. I hold his gaze and he cannot break it. I go over to a newly appeared towel rack and select a large white towel which I wrap around my waist. I leave the room. The assassin is left standing rooted to the spot looking dumbfounded at an empty bath.

The scene changes and I am in a busy university like environment with lots of young people going about their business. I am on a raised level with cafeterias and function rooms. In one there is an exhibition of art and performance art. I have put up a poster display about dreams and dreaming. A young gay Japanese man comes to my poster and we get chatting. He is a well-known avantgarde artist and is a part of the organising / judging committee for the event. He offers me a coffee and we go to get one. He is fascinated about dreams and would like to tell me his. We go back.

A woman with entourage is doing the rounds. She is leading the judging. She says that my effort is not flamboyant enough. I explain  to her that flamboyance is often an indicator of triviality and superficiality a mark of showing off from a personality level. There is glamour and show. I say that in dreaming for certain individuals the Soul speaks directly and can only he heard by the ready. I say that the whisper of the Soul in not for the crass. She seems offended yet partially drawn in, bewitched even. She wants to hear her own Soul it would be good for her art. She asks me to tell her more.

We leave the building which is now the V&A museum out onto Exhibition Road. I explain  to her as we walk  that there is a subset of dreams called Soul dreams which are dramatizations of the Soul directly. These dreams are our Soular essence our true core of being. It is wise to accept and embrace such dreams.

The dream ends and I go for a loo break it is 6AM…