Tag: dreamed

Qubit Coherence Time Dream 20-03-2023

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This dream came after watching Roger Penrose discus “before the big bang” on YouTube. He suggested that in a thermalized black body compliant universe evidenced by the cosmic microwave background energy spectrum where E=hν = mc2, time or inverse time, frequency, does not exist in the absence of matter. “Time” can be curved to “before” the big bang of our current universe. Similarly at an infinitely expanded universe full only of radiation, photons, time again has no meaning without mass.

The dream starts in the refreshment area or bar off a hall full of poster presentations at a “perimeter” conference on quantum and quantum computing. I am talking with a “famous” prof in his early forties and he is holding court to some post docs and post grads. He is skinny with a beard and unruly hair. He is white. As far as he is concerned, I am a nobody.

I say to him that if I have understood it correctly the biggest drawback for quantum computing is qubit coherence time and thereby quantum fidelity. He says yes.

I say that a qubit is a counter-entropic state artificially manufactured in matter in many systems. In these matter based systems tremendous cooling is required to prevent coupling to the nearby thermal bath states which tend to bring about dephasing and lack of fidelity for the prepared qubit. He agrees.

I say that is why they need fuck off big fridges to get close to absolute zero, which is again a counter entropic state when viewed more than locally. He agrees.

That dephasing happens on a temperature and proximity dependent time scale.

I say that thermodynamics is a property of matter and hence time, without matter entropy as no meaning, nor does thermodynamics.

I ask him why nobody is pursuing fast or ultrafast time domain quantum computing? He does not reply.

I say to him if the prepared qubit state is addressed before dephasing occurs, we can use time to outwit or outpace thermalization to bath. Time domain quantum computing could be the answer.

He nods.

I say that the other problem stems from the cycle time of write to zero of the matter involved in the prepared qubits. It should be possible to use a second pulse similar to the state preparation one to reset the qubit clock on a hundreds of megahertz laser repetition rate. We then have a prepare and subsequent write to zero even if the qubit state has been used or partially used in computation. The matter is then ready for us to contravene entropy by writing a qubit.

As the dream ends, I think that it is a fair way from Guru Rinpoche.

Termas, Tertöns and Toltec Time Capsules

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During the evening before I had my dream with a blue manifestation of Padmasambhava in, we watched “University Challenge” and “The Crying Game” on TV neither of which has much to do with Guru Rinpoche who is fundamental to Tibetan Buddhism. Over a decade ago I participated in a Guru Rinpoche empowerment given by Akong Rinpoche Tulku at the Kagyu Samye Dzong London. It looked mightily shamanic to me as I had been engaged in prior shamanic rituals.  Something happened. I do not know what. Yet I have used the tantric generating mantra “blessings of the diamond master born of lotus” in deep voice chanting on and off since then, but not for a long while. I instinctively knew this to be utmost Vajrayana, tantric vehicle and have always treated it with great respect.

{Note: this has nothing to do with trendy tantra sex practice.}

The hagiography of Guru Rinpoche has him as a second Buddha and leaving treasures, teachings as terma, {gter ma – གཏེར་མ } time capsules of hidden treasures, waiting for discovery when the time was right and ripe. These can be texts often written in Dakini script, or mind-forms waiting for a suitably susceptible recipient {Tertön} to download into conscious thought.  It is all a bit “Raiders of the Lost Ark” and I am a little surprised that Hollywood has not yet cottoned on. It would make a good movie and Richard Gere might produce it.

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Way back Théun Mares used to bang on a little about Toltec Time Capsules. These are hidden teachings from the hay-day of the Toltecs {Atlantis?}. They are {allegedly} secreted around the globe waiting to be discovered and opened. They can be a bit of a Pandora’s box.

Needless to say, both ideas are prone to a glamour, excitement and a sense of salacious secrecy. Hidden treasure is “sexy” and promises a quick fix, a kind of magic. Like the Philosopher’s Stone promises immortality and the Alchemist changes base metal into gold. Which would be handy right now given the Trump effect on global gold prices.

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People are prone to imagine some kind of physical tangible artefact. Terma play an important role in the evolution of Tibetan Dzogchen and Buddhism. They are an integral part of the canon. This may seem odd to a Western mind, but Christianity has it saints and their divine visions, and Islam The Prophet.

Teachings from “on high” are a part of most religions /philosophies. The structure of benzene was revealed in a serpentine dream!

Quite why I am getting a blue Guru Rinpoche, here, in rural Brittany, is unknown and a bit odd. I have not seen Lara Croft or Indiana Jones hanging out at the local bar or market. There are no time travelling Nazis with Schmeissers or Lugers yet….

Fingers crossed it remains that way…

Padmasambhava – Blue manifestations

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looking a little into this and from RigpaWiki

Guru Sengé Dradrok (Skt. Siṃhanāda; Tib. གུ་རུ་སེང་གེ་སྒྲ་སྒྲོག་, Wyl. gu ru seng ge sgra sgrogs; Eng. ‘The Lion’s Roar’) — one of the Eight Manifestations of Guru Rinpoche.

From A Great Treasure of Blessings, page 30: Guru Rinpoche challenged and defeated five hundred upholders of wrong views in debate at Bodhgaya. He reversed their magic with the aid of a wrathful mantra given him by the lion-faced dakini Marajita. He is known as Sengé Dradok, ‘The Lion’s Roar’.

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and

Guru Orgyen Dorje Chang (Skt. Guru Oddiyāna Vajradhara; Tib. གུ་རུ་ཨོ་རྒྱན་རྡོ་རྗེ་འཆང་, Wyl. gu ru o rgyan rdo rje ‘chang) is one of the Eight Manifestations of Guru Rinpoche. This aspect of Guru Rinpoche is sometimes visualized at the centre of the field of merit in the Nyingma tradition. Orgyen Dorje Chang is in sambhogakaya form, with its specific ornaments; holding vajra and bell and his legs in full vajra posture, he embraces white Vajravarahi.

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More on the roaring lion Senge Dradog

Senge Dradog Thank

and more on the sambhogakaya Urgen Dorje Chang not necessarily counted in the normal eight.

Urgen Dorje Chang Thank

These are the two “blue” manifestations here is a thangka:

Padmasambhava – 8 Forms: Orgyen Dorje Chang

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dream ends.

The Wrong End of the Stick Dream 16-03-2025

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An English idiom meaning to get something wrong by one’s approach by making stupid assumptions. To think that something you’ve been offered is the opposite of what it is. To confuse left and right. To turn an ability into a disability, a solution into a problem.

From the Urban Dictionary

Overnight I have had another dream in which some people get the very wrong idea about my “relationship” with them and on the basis of that make incorrect assumptions about what I must and will do for them, to help them out and otherwise clear up a mess which is entirely of their own making. They, in the dream, imagine that I am a bit like one of them, on the same level and with the same motivations. Which I am not.

The dream prior to that says that in some things I have no choice. I simply cannot do what might be convenient because it is evil.

This recurrent theme of somebody else’s mess has occurred numerous times over more than the last decade or so. It is not my mess, I cannot clear it up, nor can I like a fairy Godmother rescue them. Bonnie Tyler may be singing a song but it does not refer to me, sorry. I cannot offer any advice because it would fall on deaf ears.

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It is said that a warrior lives by challenge. I have found increasingly that the challenge for me is non-intervention, to leave well alone and to let others have the opportunity to learn. This notion of stepping back did not initially sit well. It turns out not getting involved or conflated into the drama of others, is both relaxing and economic. In the midst of some soap opera or other everything seems very important, with detachment that looks more like emotional over reaction. Some people like drama and thrive thereupon. They stoke it and feed.

I have learned that it is impossible to explain to someone caught up in and obsessed by their social conditioning, what things are like, and how they look, when that conditioning has nearly completely gone. It is one of those things that has to be experienced. No verbalisation can convey.

This may sound arrogant, as if I may be looking down. Is that real or your reflection which you see in the mirror I hold up for you. Am I haughty? Or have I at least partially risen above the soap-opera-plane?

Poor me, I am so misunderstood…

It that my being victim or a truth of sorts.

I do not feel victimised rather inured to, accustomed with, bored by, an experience I have had often in my sixty years.

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We’re only making plans for Nigel
We only want what’s best for him
We’re only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs that helping hand

And if young Nigel says he’s happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his world

We’re only making plans for Nigel
He has his future in a British steel
We’re only making plans for Nigel
Nigel’s whole future is as good as sealed, yeah

XTC

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Via Gambetti – Letter – Via Marchese – nagal Dream 11-03-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream it has a distinct Italian theme.

The dream starts with me sat at my desk. The desk is small and ornate. It is designed for writing and has stationery and quills. The feel is late 18th or very early 19th century. I am wearing pantaloons which button just below the knee, they are of a golden colour. A man comes in he is bearing a letter on a metal silver coloured tray. The tray is slightly ornate. The letter is addressed to me though I cannot see my name. I can see “Via Gambetti” as the address. I sense a silent “h” as in Gambhetti. I open the letter with a paper knife. The letter is written in a deep royal blue ink with a slanting italic script. I have been waiting for this letter for some time. It is written in Italian.

The scene changes to modern times, and I am in an Italianate piazza off which is a modern exposition building. The address of which is “Via Marchese della…” or “Via del Marchese…”. I go into the hall and a young woman hands me a conference programme entirely in Italian. I read and understand it. There are many high technology exhibitors with stalls and rooms placed around the large atrium. I start talking to some young people in a group. A man is a posh suit and his PA approach. He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “ciao, we are glad you came. Will you help us judge the best exhibit and most promising technology?”

I go off with them and enter a booth / room which is full of large screens and computers. Someone is playing a game / simulation. The simulation is a mix of military and aid, some kind of logistical clean up operation. The idea is all about logistical delivery and monitoring. I ask a young man to explain his work to me, because I am out of touch and out of date, Jurassic even. He says that he is very pleased to meet me and starts to explain.

We move on to “judge” various other exhibits. I am totally surprised in the dream that anybody would be pleased to see me or welcome my input.

At the back of the exhibition area is small seminar room which I know that I have used before. I make my excuses and nip in there to have some time to myself away from the hubbub. On the green-black rotary blackboard written in white chalk are the words “nagal exposed”. On the rotary white board amidst a multicoloured patch of marker pen is the word “nagal”. It is in relief, not coloured in and the colour of the white board behind.

I take a blackboard eraser to the white chalk and rub it out. I take a piece of blue paper towel to the white board and rub that out. I am very surprised to find these here. When I have finished, I roll both the white board and green-black board over to clean areas.

The dream ends.

Sanskrit at The Royal Institution of Great Britain…

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This morning I had a dream concerning Sanskrit at The Royal Institution. I did research there 1985-88 for my Ph.D.

In 1861 and 1863 Friedrich Max Müller gave lectures there whilst Michael Faraday was director on the science of language.

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One of these was on Sanskrit the Indo-European mother tongue.

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In 1870 he gave a series of lectures on the Science of Religion when John Tyndall was director.

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Back then people may have been more open minded and less strictly subject specific in orientation.

Friedrich Max Müller

(6 December 1823 – 28 October 1900) was a British philologist and Orientalist of German origin. He was one of the founders of the Western academic disciplines of Indian studies and religious studies. Müller wrote both scholarly and popular works on the subject of Indology. The Sacred Books of the East, a 50-volume set of English translations, was prepared under his direction. He also promoted the idea of a Turanian family of languages.

Academic career

In 1850 Müller was appointed deputy Taylorian professor of modern European languages at Oxford University. In the following year, at the suggestion of Thomas Gaisford, he was made an honorary M.A. and a member of the college of Christ Church, Oxford. On succeeding to the full professorship in 1854, he received the full degree of M.A. by Decree of Convocation. In 1858 he was elected to a life fellowship at All Souls’ College.

He was defeated in the 1860 election for the position of Boden Professor of Sanskrit, which was a “keen disappointment” to him. Müller was far better qualified for the post than the other candidate (Monier Monier-Williams), but Müller’s broad theological views, Lutheranism, German birth, and lack of practical first-hand knowledge of India spoke against him. After the election he wrote to his mother, “all the best people voted for me, the Professors almost unanimously, but the vulgus profanum made the majority”.

Later in 1868, Müller became Oxford’s first professor of comparative philology, a position founded on his behalf. He held this chair until his death, although he retired from its active duties in 1875.

Air Israel – Kabbala – Golden Orbs – Keter – Dream 08-03-2025

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This dream is from around 6 AM this morning. I have been waking because of pain in my lower spine and sacroiliac joints. I have been taking ~4 AM paracetamol to mitigate this.

The dream starts at an airport. The weather is warm and dry. On the tarmac with two boarding staircases is a jet air craft. In an angular script is written in large blue letters Air Israel. I am queuing with others to board the plane. There are people of all ages but the background is of wealth and the majority of them are Jewish. There are a few Hassidim with beaten up small leather carry-ons. There is a hub-bub of conversation. I climb the stairs and am welcomed by the cabin crew. Because of my appearance and colouring there is implicit an initial understanding that I am Jewish too. I take my seat on the aisle next to a couple with a toddler. The man is older than the woman and they are of American origin.

The flight takes off and I go to the galley to get food. The interior of the plane is now like the ground floor of a hotel with seminar tooms and a plenary. At the galley they are serving a very meat heavy dish with soup and dumplings, it is garlic rich. I move on to the self-service area. There is a selection of salads. I select one with lettuce and green lentils. I sit at a table and am soon joined by several young people who are in high spirits, they are anticipating their holidays, their stay on a kibbutz in the wilderness away from their parents.

Soon everyone moves to the plenary. A middle aged woman is on stage and she is throwing out pieces of puzzles. The idea is to use these pieces to construct a kabbalistic tree of life, Otz Chim. Everyone has flip chart paper, pens, scissors, card, string, glue and blue tac. The exercise is to keep people occupied on the flight. I catch some of the resources which the woman is throwing.

I start to build my tree of life. I start to make a three dimensional model between four vertical pillars. These pillars are about 2 cm in diameter and like Greco-Roman architecture pillars with striations top to bottom. They are gilded in a silver-gold mix. I build my tree of life in a quasi-helical fashion and not plan form. Each of the sephirah in my model is constructed out of a golden orb which I pull out of my pocket. The orbs are table tennis ball size and are decorated with an equatorial golden overlay motif. They are suspended in free space with no path structure. I pull out the last orb, Keter, and place it on top of the tree. Within the columns there is still top room for the veils of unmanifest. Keter is unusual in that it has to it a visor, like on a motorcycle helmet.

The woman on the stage suggests that we all switch tables and compare our handiwork. I join the table of a matriarch and her two late teen sons. I know that they are soon off to university. The woman looks at my tree and says that it in not bad for a goy. I open the visor on Keter and the model is filled with a radiant light, it comes to life. I say to her that the secret is Malkuth. She says don’t you mean Keter. I say yes, I deliberately mixed them up.

One of the sons comes over to me and takes out some tracing paper he is very keen to measure the dimensions of my design. He asks why there are no words on the paths and the sephirah like on everybody else’s designs. He says they could be in English or Hebrew. I say to him that if you need to use words then you have not understood nor attained the sephiroth. Words are by way of spells and are distractions from the path(s). The young man is excited and wants to learn from / with me.

In the dream I wonder if, because of the pain in my lower spine, Malkuth, I am under some form of psychic or occult attack. I make a resolution to look into it and if needed call up a Vajrapāṇi for protection.

The dream ends.

Mount Isa – The Maltese – FCO – Dream 02-03-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 3:30 and 7 AM. This was under the influence of prophylactic paracetamol because my back pain can wake me in the morning.

The dream starts in Mount Isa Queensland Australia. I am there aged as I was when we lived there but it is modern day. I take a look at former abodes starting with Sulphide Street, then Moore Crescent and finally Opal Street. I linger here, Opal Street, a while and then make my way to Happy Valley state school. I enter the premises and talk to a teacher. I explain that I am a former pupil and would like to take a look around. Even though I am a child she speaks to me as a parent. I explain that I am an ex-science academic from Imperial College London.

As I walk around, I meet a small Italian girl who is dressed in a deep blue frock. I know her to be the daughter of my piano teacher (Menghetti?). We are close friends and classmates.  We embrace and hold hands walking around the school as it was back then.

I decide that I need to explore and head off into town. Downtown I find a gym with adults in it. They are lifting weights and there is an old man with a wispy beard who runs the place. I go in and start to talk with him. Again, although I am small, he treats me as an adult. I lift some weights the adults are having trouble with. He says that he recognises me because I look like my sister, who was more extrovert than me. I say that yes, I am Taylor.

I walk round to the town Olympic swimming pool where I was taught to swim by Bill Sweetenham (Olympic swimming coach team GB). The pool is much as I can remember but there are added facilities.

I decide that I must go to take a look at the Leichhardt River. It is in half- flood. On the way I meet a small part Asian / Chinese girl with her black hair in platted pigtails. She runs up to me and greets me as a long lost friend. We embrace and kiss like children on the lips. We are very close and the sense is that is across lifetimes. We walk close to the river. I enjoy the spray. We need to cross the river. I see a spot and we wade across with the water being over our knees.

I understand that there is a problem with the title to some land in my father’s name. There is a dispute as to ownership. I know that this might refer to land in Mount Isa or some of the development land which he once owned in parcels near what is now downtown Brisbane. They are trying to find the estate to resolve the title.

The scene changes and I am on an airfield close to a helipad next to a hangar. The airfield is grass. On the helipad is a large white military-like transport helicopter. It is official. I head for the sliding door and enter the passenger bay. The airman grabs my hand and helps me in. He says welcome and that he is glad to meet the one who is called by many “The Maltese”. In the dream I know that this refers to my lifetime two lifetimes ago. We fly off.

Now I am set in an office, old school UK, with a shiny wooden desk and a desk light with a green porcelain like elongated bulb holder. On the desk is a white envelope addressed to me in black fountain pen ink. I pull out the letter. It is on Foreign and Commonwealth Office letterhead. Below the letterhead is a handwritten note to me.

The dream ends.

Early Onset Rigor Mortis and Elon Musk Dream 28-02-2025

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Yesterday evening I watched a one liner comedian deny that he was suffering from arthritis. He was aged and claimed that it was actually early onset rigor mortis, which is an amusing and attractive idea. I am due to see an orthopaedic surgeon on Monday with a view to an assessment for hip replacement and perhaps some surgery on my lower spine. There is a fly in the ointment, however.

My Carte Vitale has cracked and I have ordered a new one on line. Yesterday they asked me to surrender my Carte Vitale. This is the magic key which unlocks French healthcare and the payments there fore. If you don’t have one you get billed for any hospital stay. These are at more than a grand a day for high care levels. Which means that until the situation is resolved it would be financially unwise to elect for any surgery. The French system is difficult to start and has very high inertia. Once it gets rolling it is a bit of a juggernaut and difficult to stop. In a few hours I will surrender my card and we will enter the twilight zone of French administrative “efficiency”. The pharmacist suggested that we allow two months for this to get sorted…

So, in the meantime I will have to manage early onset rigor mortis…

Last night we watched a documentary asking if Elon Musk wants to rule the world. Given how present he now is in the collective consciousness I am mildly surprised that he has not cropped up before.

This morning, I had a jumbled and chaotic dream with him in. In that dream he lent me one of his cars {Tesla} and gave me the key. He had however forgotten where he had parked it. So, I had to search the city centre of a German town with the key fob, pressing the button to find it.

I then had an extensive discussion with him concerning possible candidates for molecular qubits based upon hindered internal rotation and quantum superposition states of molecular rotors in the gas phase. I was left with the impression that he was rather lonely and bored.