Tag: dreamer

Tadgh Gwen – Geiriadur – Forerunner – Museum Dream 02-04-2025

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Here are last night’s dreams the first was between 1.00 and 3:30 AM and the second more extensive though more jumbled dream around 5 AM.

The dream starts in an ill-defined place. There are no buildings or land or people. Somehow it is misty, foggy even. There is a sense of marshland, of primordial, of essence. Though none can be seen. I am having a “conversation” with a disembodied voice, a being of considerable power yet no form as we know it. He says that I am Tegwen Taig-Gwen Tadh-Gwen and Tadgh-Gwen. That I am in the Geiriadur, the dictionary, the tally of words. {Implicit is Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru.} There are many other names for me.

I know that gwen is white. I am white and of the white.

He says that I am the appetizer, the canapé, the hors d’oeuvre. I am the forerunner, the harbinger. One of only a very few. He says that I have borne the brunt and that there is more to come.

I wake up and take an Ibuprofen at around 3:30 AM to ease the back pain which I know is to follow soon.

I drift back off. I am now carrying an old cloth bound book which is in a state of disrepair. I can smell the book. I approach a reception desk in a university / museum setting. It is a bit like the V&A and Imperial College rolled into one. I speak with the woman on the desk who is dressed in serving black and whites with white gloves on. I say that I am looking for Dr X {I cannot recall the name}. She says that he has offices on the sub floor one. I can use the lift or the stairs. I know that I also have to visit sub-floors four and then seven.

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I take the stairs down. I can see that sub floor one extends over all of the Exhibition Road area, underpinning all the museums and colleges, as well as the Albert Hall. The subterranean levels are vast and very extensive. There are galleries of books and files with dusty museum drawers. I make my way to the office. The door is open but he is not there. There is a lot of messy “horizontal filing”.

I let myself in and on a large Admiralty style table is a yellowed “Victorian” map yellowed about the edges. There is a steel rule and a set of geometry compasses. There is a second book which is companion to mine. I open it carefully with the steel ruler. The book opens on a page with mathematical symbols and matrices. I understand them to be spatial coordinates of places.

I go for a wander along the corridor. I find what looks to be a theatrical store of costumes, of clothing. I go in. The clothes are all for males. They are of a fashion from well over a century ago. There are breeches for riding and social. There is a pair of light red-magenta leather trousers, faded with age with hand shaped back pockets. There is a sudden realisation that these are my favourite trousers for when I used to ride. The wardrobe is in fact mine as is the office / desk / admiralty table.

I continue on down to the fourth sub floor. There is a large open gallery with military equipment. In the centre of the room is a display from which various staffs and pikes point out. There are more than a dozen such items all held like cocktail sticks in a lemon. With the shaft in an ornate metal holder. I select a large white-wood staff around six-feet in length. It has ornamentation on each end with metal inlays. I feel the familiar weight of the staff and find its centre of gravity. I start to twirl the staff and practise a stick form kata. There is a very Japanese vibe. Very quickly it becomes more familiar and faster.

I know in the dream that several people younger and fitter than me are coming to attack me. They have no idea about what I am capable of.

The dream shifts to a modern setting. I am sitting with M in a modern seminar room equipped with computers etc.. We are pouring over the mathematical notes and he is going to try to write some computer code to decipher them. I say to him that we must approach the notes from two angles, one scientific and the other seeing.

The dream ends.

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Notes

Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru – Welsh University Dictionary

Tegwen name – from teg (“fair”) +‎ gwen (“blessed”) in the 19th century.

Gwen – white, blessed, holy

Tadhg in Welsh is Taliesin or poet.

Taliesin is the seer poet initiate of Welsh history /myth. He is often seen as Myrddrin which the English have translated as Merlin and claimed the mythology as their own.

Cultural appropriation!!

Myrddin Wyllt (Welsh: —”Myrddin the Wild”, Cornish: Merdhyn Gwyls, Breton: Marzhin Gouez)

Mermaid’s Purse – Viviparous – Generational Language Difficulties Dreams – 28-03-2025

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Here are last night’s dreams although not obvious they are somehow linked.

The dream starts with me looking down onto a white work surface. On it are two mermaid’s purse like egg sacks. They are shaped like ravioli, crimped and in quasi-translucent pink-yellow. They are very definitely alive and pulsing with a heartbeat. I cannot see the contents but I know they also contain parcels of knowledge. I have made them entirely hermaphroditically and must incubate them to fruition.

In turn I place one under the skin in my left arm pit and then my right armpit. There is a short umbilicus which protrudes into the arm pit. Otherwise, they appeared sealed into my body. The purse in my right armpit is more advanced and larger. It is this one which will hatch first. I know in the dream that I am now viviparous. The purses breathe through the umbilici. I must bear these and bring them to birth.

I wake for a visit.

The second part of the dreaming is set in a “trendy” clothes shop in London, somewhere like Kensington High Street. It is up market and youth. I have no idea how I got there. I am carrying an old pair of black Levi 501 jeans which have a few small holes between the legs in the crotch area. I need new jeans.

A young woman assistant comes to serve me. I explain that I need new jeans and show her my old ones. She leads me over to a display of jeans. The jeans all have stylised holes, rips and repairs in them.  I joke that I need not get some new jeans because mine are already ripped. She tolerates me. We look through the jeans and find some blue “baggies” which actually fit me. All the sizes are for skinny people. She takes the jeans with me to the cash desk.

When we arrive a young manicured and perfumed man is there. He asks me if I need anything else. I say because the holes in my jeans are where they are I might need some boxers. We all go to the underpants section. The array of colours is not to my liking, all colourful in autumnal shades and lovat. He leads me to the top of the range shelves and pulls out a pair of pants which have a “sock” or “willy warmer” for the penis. They look ridiculous. He is very self-important and praises them. I say that I do not like the penis pocket. It is stupid. He says that they are “punk”. I suggest to him that punk might have different generational meanings and that he has no idea what punk means. Real punk does not exist in his precious world. I say that it would be much more punk to wear no pants and risk my tackle falling out of or otherwise showing though the holes in my Levis. The young woman is both appalled and mildly aroused by what they both deem my gross comments. The man flounces off.

I go back to the till with the woman to buy the jeans.

I leave the shop and go into a boxing kit store. There one can buy normal black pants and ones with room for a plastic bollock guard. There is a sense of sanity there.

I know that the dream means my cultural refences are not transferable to the young of today and that I will have difficulties communicating with them. To them I am a crass ignorant dinosaur.

The dream ends.

Seb – Molecular Magnets – Dream – 27-03-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream.

The dream starts in a very large house, in which there has been a party. There has been little clearance overnight. I am there with Seb and his mother. There are other members of his extended family and the caterers are now in tidying up.

I am in then kitchen with them. It seems that Seb has again fallen unwell and is on the merry-go-round of medical appointments. I ask him what the situation is. He is now a young man. When I knew him last, he was a teenager recovering from severe illness and using crutches to help him walk. He is now walking and dressed in expensive clothing befitting of his familial status. I remember in the dream that his family are complex and very high functioning. I ask him what the problem is. He says that he keeps getting headaches and they do not know what the problem is.

I say that perhaps he needs these. I draw for him a molecule in which an atom of Iron and of Cobalt are joined together by a 1,4 – dicyanobenezene molecule, an electron bridge. The nitrogen atoms act as electron pair donors. Both transition metals are otherwise inside a molecular clathrate cage structure. The overall charge of the molecular magnet can be varied from positive to negative. These are a new type of molecule and can help him with his headaches. These molecules can be made to move, rotate, in an external applied field. These molecular magnets can be therapeutic.

He nods.

His mother says that she has a video tape which she wants us to see. The first part of the videotape is of her buying the video recorder. It is old school VHS. She ushers us into a room where the recorder is set up with a TV. It has on it videos of me arriving at their house and of our tutorial sessions ~ a decade ago.

I remind him of my offer to help in any way that I can. That I may have a clue for him which will help to explain many things.

The dream ends.

La raison est ce qui effraie le plus chez un fou.

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———

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“What frightens us most in a madman is his sane conversation.”

Anatole France

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People can be ultra-judgmental if you stray in any way from the norm, the rules, if you dare to be even a smidgeon different. Those who have lost hope and succumbed are quick to label others feckless dreamers. They can be punitive and unforgiving.

For many reasons and with many feelings, “The Dead Poets Society” is / was a film for me of awakening. Later because of various real world events it had a haunting and melancholic wounding personal resonance. It spoke volumes as to where society misplaced it values and then inflicted them on others. Young people had their entire self-worth invested in exam results, success, winning and achievement. Off piste expression was frowned upon, goals were the be all and end all. Compliance seen as the way, you must play the game to get ahead.  Even if it means dying a little inside.

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As such so often the baby is thrown out with the bath water. There is no way to convince a narrow minded person with a blinkered view that this is true. A frog at the bottom of a well is an expert on the well bottom, but it has never seen a pacific sunset on a white coral beach in the tropics. The frog cannot begin to conceive of an ocean let alone a sunset.

There is no reliable way to be 100% confident either of my sanity or my insanity. This especially through a blog. I could be a season card bus ticket holder to Barking or park my 4×4 in the drive of my expensive Godalming home having studied PPE at Oxford. There is no need to decide or choose.

Only in a very weird situation would it matter if I was a crackpot fantasist or not. Sat where I am, I do not impinge on the world. I have the time to daydream and it impacts not, provided that I do the garden and cook dinner from time to time.

Nevertheless, how people decide, perceive and assimilate the world can have real world effects.

Thanks to recent events in the USA the world is becoming an ever more divisive, coarse and unpleasant place. Nuance is being executed by social media sound byte firing squads. The monosyllabic and the droning are draining the will to live. Hope is being replaced by pissing contest.

If you don’t comply you will be berated in public and written out of the script, sidelined with those who do not toe the line and suck up enough. Manna will not fall from the high table, the Fed. There will be no place at the banquet-orgy of US economy for you. War, trade war.

I see nothing inspiring, nothing uplifting, no succour for the poor and the needy. I see no harbinger of hope or joy nor for that matter of humanity. I see no Christian values.

The lights of the world are slowly going out…

You can judge for yourself who is more sane, you or I?

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and Fantasy

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“The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” (1939) is a short story by James Thurber. The most famous of Thurber’s stories, it first appeared in The New Yorker on March 18, 1939, and was first collected in his book My World and Welcome to It (Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1942).

Plot

The short story deals with a vague and mild-mannered man who drives into Waterbury, Connecticut, with his wife for their regular weekly shopping and his wife’s visit to the beauty parlor. During this time, he has five heroic daydream episodes, each inspired by some detail of his mundane surroundings. The first is as a pilot of a U.S. Navy flying boat in a storm, followed by Mrs. Mitty’s complaint that Mitty is “driving too fast”. As he drives past a hospital, he imagines himself a magnificent surgeon performing a one-of-a-kind surgery. Later, a newsboy shouting about the “Waterbury Trial” begins Mitty’s third fantasy, as a deadly assassin testifying in a courtroom. While waiting for his wife, he picks up an old copy of Liberty, reading “Can Germany Conquer the World Through the Air?”, and begins his fourth daydream, as a Royal Air Force pilot volunteering for a daring suicide mission to bomb an ammunition dump. As the story ends, Mitty stands against a wall, smoking, and imagines himself facing a firing squad, “inscrutable to the last.”

Popular Culture

The character’s name has come into more general use to refer to an ineffectual dreamer and appears in several dictionaries. The American Heritage Dictionary defines a Walter Mitty as “an ordinary, often ineffectual person who indulges in fantastic daydreams of personal triumphs”. The most famous of Thurber’s inept male protagonists, the character is considered “the archetype for dreamy, hapless, Thurber Man”.

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Something struck his shoulder. “I’ve been looking all over this hotel for you,” said Mrs. Mitty. “Why do you have to hide in this old chair? How did you expect me to find you?” “Things close in,” said Walter Mitty vaguely. “What?” Mrs. Mitty said. “Did you get the what’s-its-name? The puppy biscuit? What’s in that box?” “Overshoes,” said Mitty. “Couldn’t you have put them on in the store?” “I was thinking,” said Walter Mitty. “Does it ever occur to you that I am sometimes thinking?” She looked at him. “I’m going to take your temperature when I get you home,” she said.

They went out through the revolving doors that made a faintly derisive whistling sound when you pushed them. It was two blocks to the parking lot. At the drugstore on the corner she said, “Wait here for me. I forgot something. I won’t be a minute.” She was more than a minute. Walter Mitty lighted a cigarette. It began to rain, rain with sleet in it. He stood up against the wall of the drugstore, smoking. . . . He put his shoulders back and his heels together. “To hell with the handkerchief,” said Walter Mitty scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last. 

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Fantasy-prone personality (FPP) is a disposition or personality trait in which a person experiences a lifelong, extensive, and deep involvement in fantasy. This disposition is an attempt, at least in part, to better describe “overactive imagination” or “living in a dream world”. An individual with this trait (termed a fantasizer) may have difficulty differentiating between fantasy and reality and may experience hallucinations, as well as self-suggested psychosomatic symptoms. Closely related psychological constructs include daydreaming, absorption and eidetic memory.

History

American psychologists Sheryl C. Wilson and Theodore X. Barber first identified FPP in 1981, said to apply to about 4% of the population. Besides identifying this trait, Wilson and Barber reported a number of childhood antecedents that likely laid the foundation for fantasy proneness in later life, such as, “a parent, grandparent, teacher, or friend who encouraged the reading of fairy tales, reinforced the child’s … fantasies, and treated the child’s dolls and stuffed animals in ways that encouraged the child to believe that they were alive.” They suggested that this trait was almost synonymous with those who responded dramatically to hypnotic induction, that is, “high hypnotizables”.

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Fantasy (psychology)

In psychology, fantasy is a broad range of mental experiences, mediated by the faculty of imagination in the human brain, and marked by an expression of certain desires through vivid mental imagery. Fantasies are generally associated with scenarios that are impossible or unlikely to happen.

Conscious fantasy

In everyday life, individuals often find their thoughts “pursue a series of fantasies concerning things they wish they could do or wish they had done … fantasies of control or of sovereign choice … daydreams.”

George Eman Vaillant in his study of defence mechanisms took as a central example of “an immature defence … fantasy — living in a ‘Walter Mitty’ dream world where you imagine you are successful and popular, instead of making real efforts to make friends and succeed at a job.”

Other researchers and theorists find that fantasy has beneficial elements — providing “small regressions and compensatory wish fulfilments which are recuperative in effect.” Research by Deirdre Barrett reports that people differ radically in the vividness, as well as frequency of fantasy, and that those who have the most elaborately developed fantasy life are often the people who make productive use of their imaginations in art, literature, or by being especially creative and innovative in more traditional professions.

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Narcissistic personality disorder

Two characteristics of someone with narcissistic personality disorder are:

  • A pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior)
  • A preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love.

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From Wikipedia, the free encyclopaedia

Gelugpa Wrasse – Dreams and Snippets 21-02-2025

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The first thing to say here is that what follows is inordinately difficult to verbalize.

Leading up to the last few days and despite numerous appearances of Tibetan based themes in dreaming I have been fairly certain that I have never had a Tibetan-Bhutanese-Nepalese incarnation. In whatever visions or dreams I have had with a Buddhist flavour I have never been wearing the maroon robes of that locality and certainly never any groovy hats.

Nevertheless, the tulku {or nirmāṇakāya} phenomenon has been resident at the periphery. I have never had the Mahayana urge or thought form pertaining to a bodhisattva training journey of coming back for the benefit of all sentient beings, to teach and to aid. This idealised wish form projected onto would be bodhisattvas seems a human thing and potentially prevents beings from leaving when they ought to be exiting the wheel of rebirth. “Please don’t leave us”, is not an empowering or enabling sentiment.

A few days ago, in the twilight between sleep and wakefulness I had a few images of me dressed in maroon monks robes with a yellow hat characteristic of the Gelug lineage of Tibetan Buddhism. I was surprised. It was a “turn up for the books” and does not fit with my hypothetical chronology. The only Tibetan stuff I have felt akin with are the tales of Chögyam Trungpa though I met at a distance Akong Rinpoche. Their relationship was complex if I understand it correctly. I have a hypothesis as to why Trungpa resonated.

What is safe to say is that the thought-forms associated with and to centuries old Buddhist traditions, studied and recited by thousands are firm, almost solid. The lineage has a “mind” all of its own, nurtured by devotees of and with a ruthless and tireless devotion. It exists in the mental and emotional space of humanity. People reciting and chanting for centuries make something almost tangible in a physical sense. The traditions and practice are kept vital and alive by regular enactment, quasi-archaic though they may be. They are alive.

Newtonian mechanics dominated the human psyche to be improved upon around a century ago for microscopic systems. Yet Newton is useful to this day in our everyday reality. These mechanics are a part of the mental space of humanity. They have merit. They work. There is a loose analogy.

This morning, I had a brief dreaming sequence in which I encountered a fish in a tank. The tank was large, beautiful and with coral. The fish was an ocean going wrasse. It introduced it self as a Gelugpa Wrasse. It told me that even if I had been previously associated with the Gelug, there was no place for me therein in this life. Such a thing would be way too disruptive. The wrasse was calm and relaxed. It was just conveying without colouration.

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It said that way back in the 1990s in Switzerland there had been a possibility but life circumstances had scuppered that. “Not to worry”, it said. It showed me some images of Bern.

I struggled to hold more of the dream but the wrasse part remained clear. Fish is the dreaming symbol for awareness or the need to be wide awake. The wrasse was pretty enough though contained in a tank. It was not free.

I am not sure what to make of it.

Last night we watched the Netflix programme “Adolescence” in which life for a family changes dramatically overnight. It was very good and left one with a breathless reminder of how normality can be completely flipped in a matter of hours.

We have had a few flips over the years.

Freaky Friday, an equinox talking with fish again…

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.