Tag: dreamed

Rugby – Nonplussed – Dream 11-11-2025

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This dream was the first in which a general feeling of being nonplussed or bewildered occurred. I also note that I forgot to take my middle of the night pain relief. Which too is unusual.

The dream opens on a rugby playing field not dissimilar to London Welsh training ground at Old Deer Park. I am part of an English speaking rugby team playing a match against a French team. It is a friendly and of a social rugby nature, not high calibre or intensity. In the dream I am able to run. We are all quite muddy because the pitch is wet and is cutting up. We are in the French half and after a rolling forwards move I go over for a try near the corner. Someone kicks the conversion.

It comes time for the French to kick off. Everyone stands around waiting. The French team are not really organising themselves for a kick chase nor is our team getting ready to receive. People are standing around aimlessly, lacking in direction. For some reason the game has spontaneously come to an end. People are very nonplussed as to what is happening and why. There is a sense of mild bewilderment that this inertia has stopped play. People mill around not knowing what to do. Everyone is kind of shrugging their shoulders confused as to what has happened, what is happening.

Slowly we diffuse off the field and into the changing rooms. The match is incomplete. There is a sense we will meet in the clubhouse afterwards to debrief. Something which was currently “in play” has come to a confusing and unexpected end. The feeling of nonplussed pervades.

The dream ends..

Number 32 – Real Life – Dream 09-11-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. It pertains, perhaps, to a situation we have been mulling over in “real” life. We have been looking into a “where” for the needed downsize of accommodation. In a sense we have been waiting for some guidance from dreams.

The dream opens in a corridor of very large building filled with flats, apartments. We are on a mid to upper floor with grey hard wearing carpet. In front of us is a white painted panelled wooden door with a round knob handle at waist height. It is modern. On it are the numbers 3 and 2, 32. It is flat 32. I approach the door and push it gently. It opens and we go inside. The flat is modern and painted mostly white. There is a mirror and small table in the hall, together with a coat stand. We explore and see a good sized lounge, a kitchen, a dining room with small balcony which looks out over the red-brick exterior of the building and grounds. The building is like Royal Holloway founder’s building only with more floors.

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As we are exploring we hear a key in the lock and in walk a younger couple. The woman is tall, similar to Amy from “The Big Bang Theory” her partner is smaller and skinny like a cyclist. She is in charge. They are unsurprised to see us as the apartment is having viewings in order to sell it. They ask us what we think. We say that it is nice but need to understand the building better.

The woman says that they are thinking of moving near Cardiff for her job but that accommodation in Cardiff itself is a bit pricey. I explain that we have explored there to. The basic story is that if you go north of the M4 the price drops and if you go up into valleys it gets lower reflecting both the travel time and the neighbourhood. I say that I personally am quite keen on The Vale of Glamorgan. She says thank you for the pointers. They say that they don’t fit in here because of their age.They are too young. We leave the flat and go into the corridor.

In the dream I note that the number is 32 and know this to be a dark jewel one that I am unfamiliar with to the extent that I cannot recall what it is. I resolve to look it up on waking. I wonder in the dream {and now writing} why the dark jewel 32 {disharmony} is highlighted.

We exit the building and stand back in the grounds. It looks imposing like the Celtic Manor resort near Newport, though internally more complex as above.

We walk up towards the main entrance which is a staircase over a moat like structure and enter the main atrium. It is high ceilinged and has reddish pub carpet and wood panelling. In the back we can see a canteen come restaurant operating. We can smell food. It has a flavour of school dinners / Oxford college catering. There are “cloches” over some of the plates. We go up to inspect the menu / price list. The food is all “English” and I note bland. It is reasonably priced.

We explore a little further and come upon another large space in which there is a meeting to one side. The wife sits down to listen in. It is a “University of the Third Age” type presentation. The audience is all our age or older. They are more expensively dressed than us and largely English.

I go to sit in a bar like area with sofas and tables. There are several “posh old bird” women there with drinks and dogs. The smell of intense perfume pervades. A female lurcher dog comes to explore me and sits with her paws on my foot and her head just above my lap. She is wanting attention. She has decided on me. She sits immobile.

To one side there is a “hunting – country” woman with a fluffy Lassie long haired collie. She comments that I have made a friend. She is being flirty with me. She gets up and her friend who owns the lurcher joins her. They head off to the lifts. It takes some coercion with dog treats to get the lurcher to leave me.

Exploring further we come upon a residents action group where a bunch of people, residents of the building, are up in arms about something. We see that the social life of the building is very active and lively. There are piss ups and dances.

We go to the activities notice board and see that you can get self-drive boats to go down the river to the weir and back. Ther are fishing rights in the river which flows under the moat. It is all a bit “Thursday Murder Club”.

The flat was nice enough.

The dream ends and I remain largely puzzled as why 32 should make an appearance. On writing I do not personally feel any sense of disharmony with our life and our surroundings.

Chinese Wedding – Unheeded Advice – Dream Snippet – 07-11-2025

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Here is this morning’s short dream.

The dream opens at a formal wedding scene between a powerful male dignitary and a younger woman. In a sacerdotal role I am officiating at the wedding. I am doing the wedding service. The wedding is both political and lust based on behalf of the male. The scene is very “Chinese”.  Both protagonists are Chinese looking and the guests are extensive in number and expensive in dress. I am wearing an ornate priestly tunic with a small very neat black hat. My black hair is in a neat long plaited pony-tail / pig tail down my back. I can feel though not see some facial hair. It is around two thousand years ago. We are on a raised dais / stage. There is pomp and circumstance.

I am officiating at the wedding under some duress. This is because the wedding is going ahead against all my advice. I have consulted the oracles, the I Ching and the council. The wedding is decidedly inauspicious and all the pointers both rational and non rational have advised strongly against it. I have made my advice clear to the powerful man on several occasions and in serval different ways. He has insisted on going ahead with the wedding. I recognise the feel of this man as someone whom I know in this life. The I Ching has been very explicit that under no circumstance should it go ahead.

In the dream I can see disaster after disaster occurring because of the wedding. His family breaks up and there are wars. These are all caused by the decision to go against my advice. He blames me forgetting that I told him explicitly not to go ahead. He is very angry with me for his arrogant mistake.

As I am coming to, the “Chinese” theme makes sense of my interest in I Ching.

The dream ends and I wonder if this a missing piece of the reincarnation puzzle.

Unusual – Golden Calligraphy – Protector – Dream 05-11-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. It is deemed unusual not for content by for the realism and quality of the indoor decors. They are very life like and top-end.

The dream opens in an upper floor kitchen of a multi-story building. It is white luminous and a mixture of natural and electrical lighting. I am sat at a white sided kitchen island with a wooden top. The finish on the wood has a light reddish mostly brown hue. It has the quality of fine cabinet Walnut but isn’t that. It is a “redwood” of sorts. I am on a tall stool sat to the island. In front of me on the wood is a paper napkin whose quality is like finest linen. It has the feel of magician’s white gloves. As I watch an iridescent golden script, a calligraphy, appears. It is in no language I recognise. Yet I can understand the script phonetically to be “estaf” or “eraph”. I joke that it is Gloria Estefan and the Miamai Sound Machine. I hear in the dream an Estefan song followed by “Despacito” on solo Spanish guitar. I realise that the script is in fact Angelic script and that the “s” is silent phonetically therein. Thus the word is seraph of seraphim. I place the now silky-linen cloth in to my left hand shirt pocket after having inhaled it while lovingly holding it in both hands. It is close to my heart.

I am joined by the wife and one of her friends. The women is not one of her known friends. We are sitting in the kitchen which leads out onto an elevated decking balcony. The garden furniture is lovely as is the rest of the kitchen. They are drinking white wine from ultra-thin expensive wine glasses. I go out to smoke on the balcony and then join them back in the kitchen. I show the friend my cloth with the Angelic writing on.

The scene changes and the woman is joined on the balcony by her sister who lives nearby. They are discussing television programmes. I am now in a deep white bath on a raised pedestal in a state of the art bathroom. The bath has a sealing door for disabled access. The wife and her friend are sat in a window seat in the bathroom which has polished wooden flooring, sanded ultra smooth. I get out of the bath with a semi caused by the warm water and go to reach a nearby white towel. I am dripping wet. The friend is at first embarrassed. I say not to worry I am very happy being totally naked I have nothing to hide. This is natural. I take a towel and dry myself off.

The owners of the building are arriving at the  external staircase to the white “mansion” side. They are coming through the door. They are a couple and two young males, late adolescent. I have been tutoring the boys. We should not be here. I go down to meet them and say that I know we should not be here. We are leaving. I understand that they may no longer want me to teach the lads and that my contract is ended. If however on reflection they change their mind they have my number. They do not seem able to speak out of surprise. We file past them out of the building and into the street. My effusiveness has diffused the situation.

The scene changes and I am in the attic / penthouse of a multistorey city building, maybe half a dozen floors high. The feel is European and the roof is made of grey metal sheeting, maybe lead. It is an original feature hundreds of years old. I am with a number of people and thinking about jumping from the building to the one on the opposite side of the street. There are a number of people there. I say that it is safe for me because I have my protector(s). I gesture out of the window to a man-like being hunched up like a bird sitting perched on the guttering. He has black slicked back hair and olive skin. He is juggling with many balls slightly smaller than a cricket ball. They are multi-coloured. There are blue, yellow, red and golden balls. Each ball is a little like a snooker one in weight. They have an iridescence. He throws balls across the gap between the building and they bounce back. He catches them. We look down and see people and cars in the street below. It is a European capital.

The scene changes and I am in right hand drive VW minibus / camper ban. It is being driven by a large English woman with long hair. She is a bit jolly hockey sticks librarian. We are winding around near single files streets in a village perched high. I joke it is Highgate. I say to take it easy the locals are accustomed to the streets she not. We are looking for a parking place outside the white mansion from before. There are none. I suggest we drive past. We do and then have to make a U turn. She pulls up in  a cliff top viewing point. There is no safety rail. The “car park” goes off the cliff. She parks and I pull the hand brake up an extra notch for safety.  She is very nervous. Below us we can see the city panorama amidst green covered peaks and with little white fluffy clouds. We are thousands of metres up and the city is below us. It looks a bit like Rio de Janeiro from the air. I suggest we get out the van and walk back to the building.

The dream ends and I note it as a change in dreaming, it is unusual.

Prodigal Son – Rastafari – Dream 10-01-22

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One from the vaults…

Here is one of my three dreaming segments from last night…

I am sat with others in a circle on small individual chairs. The feeling is like some kind of group discussion / therapy. We are discussing the prodigal son. Fi gets up and says that the parable is all about profligacy and sin. She maintains that the son in question is wasteful and does not respect material things. I say that the prodigal son sees the lack of value amongst the material things after his many incarnations. He develops humility and is no longer drawn to the earthly. Hence, he returns to the father, the source. Nevertheless, normal humanity sees only the materiality and deeply resents the prodigal for wasting that to which they are attached.

A little while later I am walking through the centre and bump into a Rastafarian who is younger than me and has bright shiny eyes. He asks if I am the dude who defended the prodigal son? Yes. He asks if I know the true meaning of Melchizedek. Yes. I explain to him that for quite a while I was drawn to Rastafarian mysticism. He asks me to lend him a cd. I go over to my pile. We are now somehow in Brixton. I explain to him that I used to live here a long while ago. I shuffle through my CDs and find Prodigal Son by Steel Pulse. Jah Rastafari.

I move around the centre and am broadly accepted by everyone there. Word has gotten around about me. I try to leave the centre and follow a winding spiral staircase which goes through various flats. I arrive at a back door. I open it and step outside. Now I am being chased by a young black guy. I stop and say, “hit me if you wish. I meant no harm.” He considers this for a moment and then says, “nah, just don’t do it again.” He walks off.

In the dream I know that this is advising me that although the familiar is tempting going back to old haunts does not really work.

Dream ends.

Groups Souls – Dalai Lama – Cloying Awareness – Exquisite Sculpture – Dream 01-11-2025

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Here are last night’s dreaming snippets. Sometimes when I need a “cheer me up” the dreaming provides.

The dream opens at a sea-side town-village. It is like Tenby or Tobermory with pastel coloured brightly painted houses.

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I am with my group of souls or beings. The place could also be Denmark or Scandinavia. It is impeccably tidy and ordered. The light is light and bright without blinding. We are young in age, children and dressed in colourful togas. We often incarnate together en masse. We have known each other for aeons. This is the group to which I belong. We are beings made out of light each of their own colour witnessed by toga and not skin. There is a sense of primordial innocence to us. We are going in and out of each other’s houses enjoying the fluffy clouds which surround us.

I awake for a loo break a little after 4 AM.

As I drift off I have a strong mental image of H.H. Dalai Lama who fills the entire perceptual field. I sense he is deep in contemplation and sit there in that state with him silently for a length of time about 15 earth minutes. It seems much longer. We are happy and serene in contemplation together. A part of that visual remains as I type now.

I fade out and into sleep.

Sat at a pavement café in central London is a man of roughly my own age whom I had acquaintance of. He has bought me a glass of Coke with ice lemon and a straw. He is sat at a table there. He gestures for me to sit down with him. I cannot. I say that I have nothing personally to resolve with him, nothing to solve. I cannot be near his cloying preserving awareness. It is heavy and seeks to enfold and keep things the same. His awareness is like a cloying quagmire, it is old, ancient, dark and borderline evil. He gestures for me to sit again. I walk past. I have nothing to solve.

I walk off into a part of London I do not recognize. It is early morning, a little after dawn and the restaurateurs and bar owners are clearing up and setting up. It is warm maybe summer. The doors are open. I walk into one pub and put the Coke down on the bar counter. The owner is polishing the bar and tables and is happy to take the Coke. I admire the stained glass windows and period doors. I walk through into the next door pub which he also owns and out of the door back into the street.

I now come upon an Italian style restaurant which has a large ornate orangery-greenhouse attached. The manageress is there in her black and whites with a low apron on. She is organising tables in the orangery. The windows of the building are leaded in, like cathedral windows. The clear uncoloured glass is warped by the flow of age. The lead is painted crimson red. The overall effect is magnificent with interesting patterns of light refracted on the floor. I say to her that the light is truly wonderful. She concurs. She has a clipped English upper class accent. She say that it a pity that “he” the owner keeps rejigging the tables  because she likes the feel of Sicilian palace which it currently has. There are plentiful succulent plants. She is chuffed that I like “her” orangery so very much. It is her labour of love which she does not need to do. She suggests that I should visit the garden out back.

I follow her advice and enter a light walled garden with water features and wall alcoves with plants. In the centre is an exquisite sculpture / water feature. She says that it is OK for me and me alone to climb it. The stairway to the feature is made out of carved open books. The books are carved out of what looks like pewter, there is relief of binding and pages. They are joined together by a single metal rod/rail. Each book is by way of a step. In some the page writing is etched in relief. They are a testament to learning and library. The languages of the books are diverse. The staircase mounts a large globe of the Earth which has all the continents and oceans cut to scale. The globe is several times my size. I climb the “ladder”. Out of the North Pole a drinking fountain flows. Its flow is lightly pulsing and the water trickles downs wetting every side of the world. The water is collected in a fish pond in which the globe sits. The ladder passes over the pond. In the pond are ornamental koi carp. The manageress encourages me up and to taste the water. I do and the water is cool and refreshing nectar like in quality. Some of it runs down onto my white linen shirt. The morning light illuminates the garden and orangery.

The dream ends.

Travelling Light  – Group Chat – Shenanigans – Dream 30-10-25

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Here is this morning’s dream. As I was typing the title I looked at the date in the bottom right hand corner of my screen and noted a numerological internal consistency.

The dream starts at some kind of motorway service station in the UK. It is like an old style Tebay but now there is a pub attached. I have parked my car which looks like an old-school 911. It looks beat up but can go fast. {Think Big Chill}. I have with me only my day sack. I have lost weight and am moving freely. I am travelling light and fluid.

I go into the services bar and there I meet A6. He is sat drinking a tall beer with two friends roughly the same age as him. I say hi and join them at a high bar table with stools. They are joshing about. A6  is planning a party back in London, to which he invites me even though we are hundreds of miles away. He asks if I can lend him a few thousand pounds, five or six. I think this odd because I know that he is now loaded and has been on a good salary in America. His mates now have comedy false noses on and are taking selfies. A6 gives me a large modern looking clock-watch which he says that I can have as collateral for the loan. He says that it is his father’s watch and that it means a lot to him. I am unsure as to if he is taking the piss in a Pulp Fiction sense. He and his mates get up and leave. I say that I will get back to him.

On a table nearby is the ex-wife. I am surprised to see her and not overly pleased. I go over to see what it is that she wants and is after. I explain that A6 is after some money. She says that I should not give it to him. This is because she wants it. In the dream I am mightily surprised that anyone could imagine that I have any money, money to spare. She is pressing that she should benefit from the money. I find the situation cloying and leave.

I go back to my car and drive off. I am heading towards London. I getting a little tired. So I pull into a service station just outside the M25. I queue up and get a coffee waiting in line at an old-style cafeteria. With my coffee in a paper cup I go outside onto a pub garden lawn. There is a pub style table there and a fairly glamorous woman is sat there smoking. I ask if I may join her. She says yes. I note that unusually she is smoking using a cigarette holder, femme fatale. We have a brief chat and she suggests to me that all may not be as it seems. This concurs with my gut feel. I spark up a cigarette and drink my coffee.

I get back in my car and drive further into another service station with a pub attached. I go inside and sit at a table for coffee. I am joined by a tall Asian man in a suit. He looks city finance. I show him the watch and explain that someone I know is asking for a loan imagining that I have come into money. He says that the watch may be worth something but that is about time and not money. He suggests that I have a look at my ‘phone to see if there are any messages from A6.

I boot up my ‘phone which I almost never use. Up pops a quasi-secret group chat which unencrypts so that I can read it. I have accidentally been included. It is an application which I am unfamiliar with. The screen fills with message after message to and fro, in a bright green small font. Encapsualted within the text are brief video snippets and images. I am the subject of the group chat and its contents are all about me. I remember when I last interacted with A6 it occurred to me that given the modus of people I was once acquainted with that these interactions were being more widely reported. Indeed A6 may even have been put up to it, encouraged. I know that this is a part of a much wider information gather and I am not pleased even though I know it typical. I think that they are fucking things up. There is nothing I can do about it. I know in the dream that it is a very bad idea for them to do this.

I am to carry on my journey. I need to go to the bathroom. In the back of the pub there are three toilets whose signage I do not understand. I eventually work out that there are one female, one male and one tranny. I go for a piss and while I am at the urinal one of the pub staff comes in. I say that the loos need a clean. He is offended and rude to me.

I  know that I left the last place early. I go back to my car. I check the day sack in the boot. In the back pocket I find my caduceus and the keys to my old house in New Mills #30.  Even though I no longer own the house I still have keys to it and can go back to unlock it at any time. I know that together with yesterday’s dream there is a reminder that things are not always  as they seem. I note the jewel of awareness and that this could be the card in play.

The dream ends.

As I am typing this the Ian Dury song “Clever Trevor” springs to mind. And I think here we go again…

Behind Closed Doors – Nile Perch – Brockwell Park Dream Snippets 29-10-2025

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Here are last night’s dream snippets some of them are at 90 mph…

The first part of the sequence begins in London. There are various meetings going on after hours and behind closed doors in which I am somehow the subject / object of the meeting. I am somehow seen as the “problem”. There is one among male UK academics roughly of my generation. I had acquaintance of these. There is one involving people who could be seen as the generation before me and a current university VC. Of these I had passing acquaintance of one female and longer of another male, they are near end of life. The VC is only a bit older than me. There is one meeting which is part virtual with people in the USA. I have never personally met the protagonists. This has a political / intelligence flavour. There is one meeting which is distinctly Tibetan and not London based. The scenes flash by at “90 mph”. In the dream I want to say that they have done nothing which is strictly speaking illegal nor overly dodgy in the view of current normal practices and behaviour. Therefore from my point of view there is nothing to discuss, nor do they have anything which needs attention. They do not need to do anything at all.

The scene now changes to Africa. We are at a camp site near an inland lake or reservoir. We are packing up to catch the plane home. In my pocket I have a small fishing lure, a spinner, a spinning spoon around a “pole” with a tri-pronged hook. It has a small purple feather. Before we leave I would like to try to catch a “bream” or Nile perch. The man I am with draws off some line from a rod reel combination. The line is very thick and strong. I need to tie the lure on with a leader. I try time and again to attach a leader to the line. Each time I do so and give a good tug the leader comes away from the main line. I think, “clearly I am not supposed to do this”. I give up my efforts and help load the safari Land Rovers to leave.

The scene changes to Brockwell Park in Brixton a place where I frequented a lot. It has a lot of stored memories and previously emotive things for me. It was very much a part of my former London life. I am with the wife and some kind of assistant / facilitator. His job is to look after me and my wants. I show him the ponds and explain that the local schools do biology lessons therefrom. I then show him one of the large old style Brixton converted “mansions”. I say that I want to explore to see if there is any draw. To see if it reminds me of my old flat. We break in through the ground floor back door and head out of the front door. The hallway is spacious and there is no damage we easily unlock the doors. I want to head up hill to show him where I used to live. As we go uphill I see a huge building project. A whole terrace has been demolished for a park side new build. It does not look good. Further up the hill another terrace has been removed by the diggers. They have yet to uproot the very old very large trees. They will need to dig deep to make good foundations. I cannot find the building in which my old flat was. I nip into one of the new build shells and hide from the builders to take a piss in a tiny pink WC. I finish and as I leave one of the builders shouts “oi”. I say that I used to live here and was bursting for a leak. He waves me on.

As I come to I note there is no point searching for the past because it no longer exists. I note that as we were non binary about France or England the future may lie elsewhere. I also note that the reason we love this house is the garden and nature, which I may rekindle after my operation(s). I am not seeing clearly.

The dreaming sequence ends…