I found a new sutra to read:
Ārya tathāgatācintyaguhya nirdeśa nāma mahāyāna sutra
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And a new Mandala at Himalayan Art Click Below:
Vajrapāṇi, Lord of the Guhyakas – Dream Follow Up
Tag: dreamer
Vajrapani – Who Do You Think You Are – Dream – 13-02-2026
Last night we watched an episode of the TV programme “Who do you think you are?” in which diamond geezer and EastEnders TV actor Danny Dyer found out that he was related back via Thomas Cromwell to King Edward the Third. In a sense the second part of this is related to recapping a part of this life. During the day I downloaded and scan-read numerous Tantra texts from the 84000 Reading Room web site. It is not uncommon for me to do some meditation visualisations at the transition from fully awake to “asleep”. I started with what I call geometric Vajrapani as I drifted off.
As I ready for sleep I invoke and visualize a blue Vajrapani in a readiness pose, not full wrathful. I am invoking his protection. I start by visualizing him in each of the four cardinal compass points to our property. Starting in the East, then South, then West and finally North. There is a calm familiarity with the practice.
I notice the transition from “awake” to “asleep”.
Now without any physical house and garden refence points I see Vajrapani first close and then far. He is stocky, muscular and well powered. He is of a physical age of a well maintained 40 year old athlete. He is definitely lithe and athletic.
I then see him at each of the four cardinal point of a two dimensional compass circle. He then appears also at the minor cardinals such as SW. Until I am at the centre of a circle in which there are eight Vajrapani. The ones at the true cardinals are slightly larger.
The scene changes to three dimensional in which there are two extra global circles one North-South and the other East-West. These are at right angles to the initial plane. Where these circles intersect, vertically above me and vertically below me an additional Vajrapani appears. So that there two more true cardinal Vajrapani. The quasi cardinal points fill in with smaller Vajrapani giving and extra eight smaller Vajrapani and a total now of eighteen. The feeling is of a three axes gyroscope.
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There is a sense of being cradled.
The scene now changes and I am sat with Vajrapani as a younger man with long jet black hair still blue hued. He is dressed informally in a light off the shoulder white toga like robe. We are under a weeping willow like tree by the banks of a small gently flowing river. We are sat facing each other on the grass. He is very relaxed, beaming with an inner light, and it is as if we are having a picnic on the grass together though we are not eating. We are conversing without words mind to mind and are well en rapport with each other. In the dream our relationship is fraternal friendly. We know that my secondary predilection is for the light of the East. Between us is a shared knowledge of the Nagas. For a very pleasant while we sit enjoying the shade of the tree, the grassy lawn, the sound of the river, and the sparkling light of the sun reflecting therefrom. He is now always “available”.
I awake for a loo visit it is around 3:15 AM. I have an upset stomach which is telling me that I need to now cut something out of my post operative diet. I go downstairs and watch a bit of You Tube. I somehow know that it is near dawn in Northern India and Bhutan.
I go back to bed and to sleep.
I am now with the wife in the dining hall of Wycliffe College prep school. We are sat at high table with the headmaster. He is talking with us. I explain to him that it is good to revisit and that I was last here around 57 or 58. I do the maths and realised it must be 1977-8.
The scene changes and we are walking up then hill to Tiley field which used to be the athletics track. It was here that I used to run 800 and 1500 metres barefoot, sometimes for the school. I enjoyed the grass under my feet. There are a few younger people there and the use of the field has changed. The scene changes to an indoor swimming pool I am there with some teenagers from the upper school. Then we are back in the dining room.
I explain that because of my date of birth I was able to stay down and enter the scholarship class where I won the science exhibition to the school proper. I wonder if there are any records or photos of my time there. I know that there is at least one whole school photo in which I am.
The headmaster talks about how the alumni are helping to fund a school project. He gestures and someone brings an old style land line ‘phone in an olive green plastic. The ‘phone is bulky and wired in. He places it on the dinner table in front of me and gestures for me to pick it up. I know that it will have the alumni and fund raising office at the other end.
The ‘phone then looms large on the table and I wonder if the dream is telling me to make contact with my old school. Maybe they can throw some light on things. I remember that when I was there I was in trouble and had difficulty settling in. Perhaps something interesting happened about which there are records?
The wife and I look at each other knowing that the headmaster is simply doing his job as a fundraiser but also that there may be something important which he is missing by a mile.
The dreaming ends and I come to. My initial thought was that it was a nice change to have nice dreams.
Medical – Mistaken Identity – Language Choice Dream 12-02-2026
Here is the second of last night’s dreaming snippets.
The dream starts in a waiting room of a seemingly English medical practice. I am sat there next to a rack of magazines and a large window sill upon which is a green indoor plant. In walk two nurses, dressed in old fashioned white nurse uniform with little white cardboard “hats” pinned into their hair. They are chatting loudly and are white corpulent of build. One of them is older than the other. They are not strangers to food. The older nurse comes up to me and asks me, “what drives people (you) to strong drink?”
I have never been much of a spirits sort of person. So I wonder why she is asking me about strong drink. I think. I then say that it is most likely peer influence that pushes one towards strong drink, that or partners. The two nurses look at each other and exchange conspiratory looks. They move through the waiting room and into another room, giggling slightly.
In walks a man who says a loud hello to the receptionist and comes into the waiting room. He is a doctor but somehow is dressed like a catholic priest with black shirt and white dog collar. He is about my age, ruddy of complexion and with unkempt fair hair and balding pate. He claims me as a long lost friend of his. I have never seen him before. He continues to claim me as a friend recounting some exploits we are supposed to have done together. The man is clearly mistaken and possibly intoxicated. I say to him that he is mistaken. He says no he is certain that he remembers me and knows who I am. I say no he is mistaken. He will not accept this. I then say that he is wrong and has mistaken me in French. He is now usure because of the change of language. He gets up and follows the nurses into the room.
I am called into a doctor’s office. The wife comes with me and we sit across the desk from a dark haired query Hispanic woman of around 50 years. Under her white lab coat she has a bright red floral design dress. She has a stethoscope around her neck. She proceeds to ask me what ails me in English. I reply and she looks non-plussed. This goes on for some while. I say to her,
« Nous pouvons parler en français »
At which she relaxes and the consultation continues in French with ease. She writes me a prescription for my normal medication. As we are about to leave she pulls out a packet of cigarettes and takes one for herself. She sparks up. She offers me a cigarette and I decline saying that I don’t smoke. I think it odd that the doctor is smoking in her office.
We then go to a pharmacy in an arcade. It is very busy and the green pharmacy sign outside is bright. There is a queue in the pharmacy. There is a young man and a young woman in lab coats. They see the name on my prescription and try to speak to me in English. They are trying to show off to some of the other customers. The transaction is very slow. So I switch to French and then everything progresses well and quickly.
The dream ends.
Car Break In – Dream – 12-02-2026
Here is one of last night’s dream snippets continuing the car theme and in which I use uncharacteristic language.
The dream starts with me upstairs in a warehouse conversion type space with ornate metal ceiling pillars and open stonework. The floor is wooden and polished. The room is large and I am alone. Downstairs is an up market shopping arcade with a Covent Garden vibe though much calmer and perhaps classier. There is nobody about. It is early morning.
I leave the room and go down though the arcade to my car which is parked just outside on the street. It is a bit like my old Mitsubishi Colt but more old school Jaguar E-type in shape. It has a long bonnet and is very sporty it is orange-red in colour. It is similar to a hard top Ferrari 250 but not quite Ferrari red. It is sporty and fast.
I can see someone ferreting around in the back of my car with the left door open.
I shout out, “Oi, cunt-face get out of my car!!”
A tall gangly man gets out of the car. He is very dark haired and has a pock marked face. He is a wrong-un and oozes a bit of menace. He says that he did not take anything. All that he found was this. He hands me a white cigarette packet which is open and in which are two disposable lighters. I take this he says that he found this in the back seat.
He then moves to attack me. But I use footwork to step out of the way and block his lunge with my left arm in a brush block. He steps past me. He lunges again and I once again avoid.
He pauses and decides if to attack me again.
I say to him that he had better think carefully about what he is doing because if he attacks again I will not hold back. At the moment no harm has been done.
He turns and walks away. Again I get the feeling that he is a wrong-un and no respecter of natural {emphasis here} law. There is a feel of evil about him, he is like a movie villain.
The dream ends.
Two Mistakes -Academic Conference – Yet More Car Crashes – Dream – 10-02-2026
Here is last night’s dream. If follows on from the three “real” world car crashes we have had outside our house and into our drive. Two of which were quite spectacular.
The dream opens in some kind of conference centre on an underground floor leading to modern lecture theatres. It is in the UK query London. People are milling about. There are reception desks with badges on lanyards and others with promotional literature. There are a couple of stand up banners. People are gathering, relatively smartly dressed for an “important” conference or meeting. They are mostly younger than me some around two decades so, the next generation. The feel is modern. I am there but not there. I am observing but not fully present. In the dream I think it will be interesting to see how things are done these days.
We all go in and I take a seat a few rows back from the front. The first speaker, a woman, starts a scientific talk in which there is a lot of show or glitz and little content. There is a glaring mistake early on because she has failed to research properly. A beginner would know this to be wrong. At the end to my surprise the applause is enthusiastic and congratulatory. I am wondering why, there was no substance. The second speaker is a male, suited. He is introduced as being a big cheese. His talk is also full of pizzazz but I struggle to find any information, genuine novelty or substance therein. He asserts on a number of things which I know to be very wrong and entirely inaccurate, a schoolboy error perhaps propagated from a bad source. Again to my surprise there is enthusiastic applause. I think to myself that standards must have dropped a great deal.
There is a coffee break and I am met by some younger people and organisers. They ask me what I think. I say that the standards have changed and that you cannot talk about these things without mentioning activation energies. I say that I am surprised. It is all showy and kind of ends there. I say there have been two very obvious mistakes, glaring even.
We go back in and another speaker starts and his slide pack does indeed have a graph of activation energy but it is so utterly complex as to be impenetrable. I am pretty sure that he does not know what he is trying to convey, what he is talking about and is simply trying to appear clever.
Later I return to my apartment. People from the conference and the organisers are in the flat below which is much smaller than mine. They are having drinks, a kind of post conference party. I tidy my flat up a bit and find some bottles of aged single malt Scotch whisky. I go down stairs and say to them if they want to spread out a bit they can use my flat for the gathering, there are nibbles and high quality vintage Scotch.
They start to file upstairs. I am looking out of the kitchen window onto the parking area below. Up pull two very large truck rescue vehicles one red, one blue. They are each towing a large wheel base mini-bus. These have been involved in serious accidents and are badly crashed up. They relate to the conference. I know that they represent group consciousness, group awarenesses. The drivers unhitch the crashed minibuses and come up the steps to my door. They want to hand over paperwork for the crashed minibuses. I say that they are not my minibuses, they do not belong to me. The drivers say that they know that. But that he have been advised to leave the buses here overnight. I can report this to the police in the morning and have them towed. I say that I do not want them there. They insist and hand over the paperwork. In the dream I think, “oh no not yet more car crashes!”
I awake the dream ends.
- Cars and vehicles are the dreaming symbol for state of awareness. These are not mine.
US Event – Wrong Table – Dream 07-02-2026
Here is last night’s dream. I have no idea where this came from.
The dream opens in some kind of US led event, possibly at the London embassy or some swish London hotel. It is in some kind of meeting of delegates and in hurried response to one of Trump’s “great ideas”. The whole thing is rushed, last minute and cobbled together. The staff have done a great job of preparing the banquet with a long rectangular top table seated on one side only and subsidiary tables. The Americans have sent a delegation most of whom are MAGA loyalists. At right angles to top table there are the other long tables seated on both sides.
I find myself sat on one of these tables very close to the end which abuts top table. To my left is an English MP query Wes Streeting and to my right is an American who clearly considers himself important. “Wes” is next to top table. The American is talking to staff to have me moved because he does not know who I am and am not in any of the pre-meeting briefings he has received from security. He is talking to staff in a demanding and entitled way. He is roughly my age wearing a dinner jacket like suit and has a balding head. He says that he does not know who the fuck I am nor why I am there. I agree that there must be some mistake. I am clearly at the wrong table. I do not belong there. I am not important like them. I move to get up. “Wes” apologises. I say that it is for me no drama. Once I have gotten up everyone shuffles along one place to the left.
The staff lead me off to the back of the room to some kind of satellite meeting. They notice a place between Justin Trudeau and a MAGA faithful lawyer who is becoming politically active. He is upcoming. He is mid-forties and with sandy coloured hair. They seat me between them. Trudeau welcomes me as does the lawyer. Trudeau is just swinging by and is in London. I start to skilfully interview the politician-lawyer. He is having good fun because he is talking about himself. I ask questions attentively. He suddenly stops and asks me what I do. He has a southern accent. I say that a long while back I did a start-up and used to work with students. He says that maybe I can help look after his daughter who is on placement here in London. I say gladly.
She waves from the entrance hall to the banquet. I get up and go to meet her. Together we go to the quiet rooftop of the building. We start to chat and she has with her a yellow plastic container with “fluff” a fluorescent pink marshmallow like treat. She offers me some. She is on strict instructions not to eat the whole box. I have a little and say that she is welcome to my share. I ask her how she is finding London. Refreshing is the answer. She apologises and says that her father can be more than a bit of a dick from time to time. I am pleased to be away from the banquet.
The scene changes and I walk past a glass doored college laboratory and the young woman is there. It is the next morning. I ask how she is. She says that she had an upset stomach from the fluff but is otherwise OK. I leave her to get on with her experiments. Apparently her father has come to pick me up in a car and I need to get into a suit. He arrives and we go down into a wide American style convertible which he drives only a few hundred yards. We discuss how relationships can take a time to build. He says that where he comes from the pace like the accent is slow. A garage door opens automatically and we are soon in the lobby of a hotel. I think it really stupid to have driven when he could have walked. Someone gestures to him and he walks off leaving me in the lobby with the promise he will return. In the dream I know he will not and try to figure out how long I need to wait before I can walk off. He has forgotten all about me because I am not important to him..
The dream ends.
Kahuna Shamanism – Dream Follow up
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Nā Puke Wehewehe ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi
kahuna
1. Priest, sorcerer, magician, wizard, minister, expert in any profession (whether male or female); in the 1845 laws doctors, surgeons, and dentists were called kahuna. See kahu and many examples below; for plural see kāhuna. hoʻo.kahuna To cause to be a kahuna or pretend to be one; to ordain or train as a kahuna. (PPN tufunga, PCP t(a, o)funga.)
2. Oven cooking; to cook. Cf. kahu 2.
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The immediate intuitive response to the dream this morning was to take me back in time to when I was researching aspects of shamanism and Kahuna or Polynesian shamanism in particular. The cosmology and ordering of states of awareness therein, at the time, seemed the most fitting for me as a then practicing scientist.
Their notion of flow was related to unperturbed Dao. The aim was for harmony and being in tune. Discordance with the universe being largely of human anthropogenic cause. At the time I considered a visit to Maui. I was then, rune by rune, making my personal slate rune set. These I carved with a jeweller’s screwdriver and polished with sand paper. These are now buried somewhere and maybe an archaeologist may unearth them one day. The slate will be old which may confuse.
This link to the indigenous has been around for a long time. I personally met Aborigines, Bantu, Pygmy and Maasai. I felt an affinity with Māori. In a sense I am part indigenous too, from the lands around the East of Snowdon. The blood is perhaps old and my granny was a witch, so to speak. It seemed entirely natural to me, despite the high resolution laser spectroscopy, to look in to the craft and shamanism. In the wee small hours things are not so concrete and lit by western fluorescent tube thought. Things are candlelit and more evanescent, much less garish cold and hard. Adamant rigidity fades and softens.
Anger bitterness and jealousy are not natural things; they are not Dao. They are of human source and hint at the dark underbelly of mankind’s miserable dissatisfaction and hunger. They hint at the voracious insatiable nature of some of us. Those who never get to understand the word enough.
I had early exposure to the tropical coast off North Eastern Queensland. I nearly drowned at Crystal Cascades and was tumbled in the surf on the then pristine coast. Back then I was all water. I swam a lot. I learned to swim thanks to an Olympic swimming coach from Mt Isa, William {Bill} Sweetenham who went on to be National Performance Director for British Swimming.
The tropics then have etched me a little.
The things is nobody knows what lies underneath the shell. What may lurk there perhaps unexpected. We may feel justified in projecting our anger and bile at another, we may not consider we are dealing with something about which we know little. There may be subjective unseen consequences to which we are not acclimatised and with which we are unfamiliar. What we unleash in a fit of pique may return to us in ways unexpected and with effects unanticipated. We may not be able to explain the resultant phenomena.
If as kahuna one has built a protective shell, a reflective cocoon, then things bounce off. Return to sender. Few who dabble understand that malevolence always has a cost to the emanator thereof.
The trouble is that people indulge in their anger, their bitterness and petty jealousies. These can like a cancer metastasise in beingness.
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Holding on to anger is like holding on to a hot coal and expecting someone else to get burned...
As the saying goes…
Malevolent Thoughts – Magic – White Scallop – Phowa Dream 06 -02-2026
I had hoped that we were past this, past this kind of projection at me. Here is last night’s dream on a night which had an otherwise long sleep.
The dream opens in a seemingly underground labyrinth, a warren of tunnels, which I know to be the mind of another or others plural. The walls are curved and of a grey muddy hue and texture. Hanging pendant from the ceilings of these tunnels are amulets shaped like a pain au raisin, coiled. They are palm-hand sized. They are British English of provenance. I know they are encapsulated thought forms and parcelled emotions. They are negative and malevolent towards me. They have variously resentment, jealousy and ill will. They are anger and even hate filled projections at me. In some cases they have festered long. They are by way of black magic spells directed at me either wittingly or otherwise. The persons generating these malevolence are not fully aware of their voodoo like essence. Nor do they understand that these emanations against a witch with well-practiced charms of reflective protection is for them, the emanator, a very unwise thing. Deep in the resentful caverns of their minds they are harbouring and feeding this negativity which is bad for them. They are nurturing it and it feeds upon them. It is eating them alive. To project against a witch is foolhardy.
In the dream I sigh.
The scene changes to a small cove on the coast with crystal clear waters. It too seems English. I am in the water swimming at the behest of an “archaeologist”. I am free diving to the bottom and searching the sand. I find a large pristine white scallop shell. Larger than normal, shiner than normal and whiter than normal. It is somehow special even magical white. I go to shore and show it to the archaeologist. He is excited. He asks me to find a living bed of scallops as proof. I know that the archaeology refers to the/my past. I dive and swim towards where a fresh water stream inlets into the sea. There on a small rocky outcrop are a bed of scallops. I take a picture with my underwater camera and with the knife from my ankle scabbard ease a living pair of scallops off. I return to the shore. I show the archaeologist who is very happy. We go into the village and enter a small cottage with a “Tudor” blue wooden frame. We go into the kitchen and start to wash the scallops in the sink. The couple who are the cottage owners return and let themselves in with a key. At first they are surprised to see us in their house, their kitchen. The archaeologist apologises and explains. They are happy and the wife helps him wash the scallops in the sink.
The scene fades and I am left with a very strong visual image of someone known to me whom I have not spoken with for two decades. He is older than me and of a prior “generation”. I know that he nears death and this is by way of a checking in. If and when things progress I will see him during the transition and soon afterwards. The same holds true for a female also of his generation. As a part of the Phowa practice I will encounter them on planes non mundane in the in between. I am ready whereas they are not. I am at home there.
The dreaming sequence ends…
On waking I know that there is nothing you can do if someone harbours envy, bitterness and jealousy towards you. If you mention it, it does not go away. It only entrenches and gets worse.
Someone Else’s Mind – Stranger Things
We have recently been watching the fifth series of “Stranger Things”. We have one episode to go. The worlds of Stranger Things and Henry’s mind might seem a bit odd, fanciful and far fetched to many. I joked with the wife this morning that it is pretty tame compared to our dreamworld. The “upside down” outside our fence and garden gate is full of various unpleasantness. Which leaks through via various news broadcasts and on-line newspapers. There is nasty stuff and are nasty people out there. We live in “the right way up”.
If you read and concentrate upon the dreams in the previous post it is likely to do something to your mind. It will perhaps unsettle. To me it is normal, it is slightly more unsettling for the wife. I am more at home with visionary art and spaced out verbal recollections. I can answer University Challenge art questions if the picture is from William Blake or Hieronymus Bosch.
In a sense this blog is a kind of window into what goes on in my mind, my head. It does not however show the “normal” state of my mind. This is largely silent and thought free. It cannot be written down. What occurs here comes only after I have decided to think or verbalize. I live largely in what I term the place before thought.
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I am entirely capable of having the kind of dreams, which might knock others off kilter, and without a second thought I can put the coffee on to brew. I know when I am dreaming and when I am so-called awake. I can also differentiate waking dreams or visions. I can function “normally” whilst having a vision. An example being the ability to teach Chemical Reaction Kinetics whilst a vision was resident and “in play”.
We rarely get detailed glimpses direct into the mind of others. This is partially because our minds are so god-dammed noisy with internal dialogue, worries and a list of devoirs. We live in our “own little worlds” and often try to fit others into the rules pertaining to how that world is assembled and assimilated in our own “minds”. Our assimilations may differ. Our versions of observable reality may diverge from one another. More often than not we insist on our own assimilation and sense making. What makes sense in our “the right way up” may be to others the “upside down”. We may be adamant that everybody else has gotten the wrong end of the stick. Only our rules of perception and assimilation apply. Only our interpretation is correct.
The mind of another may unsettle us because of its unfamiliarity.
In a sense the dreamworld presented in this blog is other. If it is only a dreamworld it has no significance at all in the normal “real” world. The dreamworld, however it is produced and wherever it comes from, need not impinge on/in your reality out there in the “upside down”.
There are few portals or gateways between our “the right way up” and your world. They exist tangentially. Only occasionally do we go through to go to the hospital or supermarket. We usually make it back without being attacked by a Demogorgon or two.
The only potential problem arises is when the dreamworld here has a significance which is more significant that just dreams, just a dreamworld…
Dreams With Eggs In – Dream Follow Up
I have had a total of nine dreams with “eggs” in found by a word search of my dreams folder. Eggs are a dreaming symbol for something nascent about to be born, something encapsulated and perhaps hidden. They are about potential.
I have omitted two from the list below because in these the “meaning” of egg was more to do with food.
There are four dreams from 2025!! One from 2023 and one from 2022.
I have partially excerpted a seemingly significant dream from 2008. Which kicked off a line of inquiry unexpected to me.
When taken together they seem more impact full. The “California” and “Nevada” dreams are from a different source, level or theme.
Were one of a mystical persuasion these 2025 dreams could be deemed highly significant…
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Chaotic Mess – Rare Slow Soul Magic – Dream 12-12-2025
Sleep last night came in two segments 12 – 2:30 and after an hour of TV, 4 to 7. In “A Discovery of Witches” season two last night Diana masters the ninth knot, the spell of endings and beginnings, the knot of completion(s). Implicit is inherent in this is also the tenth knot. Diana a weaver and time walker prepares to travel back to modern day.
The first part is in the early sleep and shallow. I am with the ex-wife. She wants to show me what is going on in the village. She insists that I go to see what has become of the village pubs. She is curious and very nosey. She wants all the gossip. Reluctantly I go with her and one of the pubs is under new management. He is trying to make a go of it. The pub is in a state of mess and undergoing renovation. A part of it is open for business. We go in and he asks what I want. I ask for a pint of Guiness and it takes long while to pour and settle. The ex-wife has a half of bitter and proceeds to go around chatting at/with everyone else in the pub. I ask the landlord about his plans.
We move off to the next pub. This is more lively and all the village folk some from out of town and some born are ostentatiously getting pissed up. The air is of forced jollity, almost an anxious jollity. This pub is better lit. The locals all stare at me. Once again the ex-wife works the room talking to everyone and gossiping about life in the village and in general. I do not see the point of it in the dream. The pub is a mess and someone needs to do a glasses round and wipe down tables. There is a hint of Christmas party and the TV in the pub is blaring away in the background. It is harsh to the senses.
I awake for some poor TV, a pill and two lion bars.
Back now in the dream I am upstairs in a retreat centre type house. It is redbrick and old. On the other side of a single track road is a chest height red-brick and flint wall behind which is a substantial weir and mill race. The river is powerful and the water deep and of a green hue due to the weeds. I know the building I am in is aligned to the old water mill. It is a part of the complex. The feel is very similar to Llangollen. The smell is similar too; we are near mountains. I am lying on the bed with the window open. The net curtains are blowing lightly in the breeze and I can hear the deep bass rumble of the water on the weir.
I hear a key in the door downstairs and in walks Paul and Emma. (Walker). They walk through into the kitchen and I can hear the keys being thrown into a small ceramic pot / ashtray. The pot is glazed agate green. I can hear Paul complaining to Emma about me. He complains how things can be messy after I have been and that although the mess is not mine it is in response to me that the chaos and mess ensues. He is not happy about me being there and wants me to go. His unwelcome is widely held among many people. I do not do what they deem I ought to.
I come down stairs and Paul intuits that I have heard what he has been saying. He asks if I have heard. I affirm. He says that there is no point pretending then. I say that I am not in the least bit upset. I have something to show him. In the kitchen are plates and cutlery unwashed. He looks at them with scorn. We all go out into a walled garden and to a stand-up wooden table in a “beer-garden” private to the property and which overlooks the weir.
I say to Paul that I possess a special rare type of magic. This he doubts as otherwise I would have used the magic to clean up. I say that this magic is not of a material kind, the kind for tricks and show. I say that my magic is a special kind of magic known by some as Soul magic. This magic is of a very slow effect. It is a slow Soul magic. He is sceptical.
I hold up my left hand and a brown hen’s egg appears in it. This catches his attention. It cracks and the top comes off. It is now like a soft boiled egg ready for eating in “dippy eggs”. I say to him that my magic, the deeper magic, pertains only to the Soul. It is not mundane. In the dream he understands that the egg is a metaphor for the Souls. I say that yes I can and do work directly with the Soul(s).
The dreaming view looks down at the soft yolky egg from above and then zooms out to a side view. A small amount of yolk has run down from the egg along my fingers and onto my white inner wrist. I say that even Soul magic is of two kinds, the magic of the Souls evolving through lifetimes and that of the spark within. True magic is about the creation and enveloping of the spark within a Soular casing, the egg of lives. The ultimate magic is about liberation in which the ovoid shell, the eggy casing of the Soul is rent and evaporates only to leave the spark within and thence throughout. Soul magic is about encapsulation and liberation. It is beyond the sight of most and not to the everyday taste.
As they watch the egg starts to dissolve shimmering into space with a shimmering of tiny golden insubstantial flecks. Leaving a tiny bright yellow-orange radiant spark or flame. Which is suspended above my fingers. Paul and Emma are temporarily transfixed. They come to with a jolt and all they can see is my upstretched left hand with fingers touching from where the egg once was. They can see a small trickle of bright yellow yolk against the white inner skin of my wrist.
The dream zooms out and looks directly into the depths of the water going over the mill race weir. I know that those prone to the chaos of the West struggle to see the beautiful order and patterns of time.
I come to and feel the stiffness in my hips and lower back..
Luxuriously Lost – Dreaming Colour – Vajra Bell – Huge Serpent – Dream 03-09-2025
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.
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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 arctic 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.
Dreaming Courses Dream – 14-08-2025
Here is this morning’s dream had between 4 and 6 AM. Again another one seemingly out of the blue.
The dream starts in a faculty office. Behind a large desk is a woman in her 40/50s. She is powerful and dressed in an expensive skirt and jacket suit with a royal blue shirt. She exudes wealth and she is very accustomed to getting her own way, obeyed even. She tells me that the faculty have agreed to my proposals for a course on dreaming and that I may go ahead with these courses on an experimental basis. She needs to be kept in the loop of developments. She thinks that I am fearful and subordinate to her. When I simply very relaxed and fluid. I know that she has other agendas which she is trying to forward and that there are politics going on behind the scene. She hands me a book of mounted photos like a book of material swatches used in fashion or decorating design. The book of “swatches” has covers and I cannot see the contents. She intimates that she wants these included in the courses.
Her office leads out onto a full or partial quadrangle with a covered ambulatory or walk way. It has a light reddish-brown brick. There are cobbles in the quad. It feels a little like Greenwich but also has a sense of Berkley CAL. There is a history and the word meridian is to mind. On the side wall of the ambulatory there is a small wooden display case with a lockable glass front. In this cabinet I will display course synopsis for the passing footfall of students.
I go into an open room with whitewashed walls and a dark red stone or painted concrete floor. I am met there by a younger woman who has been assigned as to help me and, to keep an eye on me. She asks me why I think that there are no definitive books on dream content. I say that by their very nature dreams are nebulous and not well suited to reductionist quasi-logical methods. Dreaming is dreaming and it has to be approached via dreaming and not structure. Sense-making can hinder dreaming significantly.
I open the book of swatches to show to her. Inside it are photos of some kind of Tibetan centre, out in the country. There are images of coloured prayer flags blowing in the wind. One of small stupa only a few metres high. There are western white participants and a very few Tibetans dressed monastically. I know the word Drukpa is associated. It is clear that a part of the agenda from the powerful woman relates to Tibetan dream practices. There is more agenda.
The young woman has a notion that in dreaming cultures there is always a myth and a mythos. That these grow up around the dreams and the reporting thereof. As a part or her research she would like to see if we can seed a myth and a mythos into those participating in the dreaming. Rather than that being an ancient hagiography she wants to seed an artificial mythos and see where it goes. She ushers me over to the back of the room where there is a museum style display case with a sloping horizontal glass covered display. Under this are full depth “admiralty” drawers containing specimens. She pulls out one draw and there packed in cotton wool nests are several rock specimens. She select a grey and black speckled “agate” egg. The black is dark like obsidian
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She says that this will or could be the dream egg around which we start to create a dream mythos or myth. She is excited and I say that I am happy to explore this avenue but that it needs fleshed out. We can use the egg for the birth of the course, metaphorically.
The power woman, the principle, from before knocks and enters the room. She is wearing high heels which have been tricky on the cobbles. I show her two pages of A4 text which will serve as a flier for the course. This text will go into the cabinet. She asks what the syllabus will be and I say that the syllabus will be decided to a large extent by the attendees and mostly by dreams. She looks sceptical.
I usher her over to a tarpaulin. On which are several plants in black plastic pots tied to short bamboo supports. I say that these are going to go into the green house and that these will comment upon and be a part of the course. I ask if she would like to help us plant them. Yes. We load half the plants onto a flatbed trolley and head out of the quad-building to the university allotment where our greenhouse is. Together we all plant the plants. The principle comments that she found it very enjoyable and that it is the first time for a very long while that she has had dirt under her nails.
We go back to the quad room. The principle asks about a web presence or page. At her prompt I know that I have to send someone a link to the dream yoga blog as it currently stands. I will do this after I have written up and posted this dream.
The dream ends and I note with some surprise on my way back from the bathroom that its exactly 6:00 AM.
Mermaid’s Purse – Viviparous – Generational Language Difficulties Dreams – 28-03-2025
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.
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Sensei – Golden Egg – Seven Horsemen Dream 27– 10 -2008
This dream was had in Vienna on honeymoon. I got out of bed and went down to reception to write it down so as to not turn on the lights in the hotel room.
There is sense of training ground. We are all outside waiting for the sensei. However, the sensei is me. Alexandros myself and others are there. Suddenly there is a strike of lightning and A is hit by lightning. He is a nagal’s courier. He is lit up and energised. Only now it is not him it is me who is lit up and energised. This scene lasts for a long time with multiple lightning strikes.
I walk across the bridge fully charged.
The scene replays several times and is vivid even as I recall it today. {Jan 2025}
I go to a gym / factory area. There is something inside my anus. I reach inside and pull out a glossy shiny golden egg. This is very painful. I store this egg somewhere and keep it secret.
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California Dreaming Snow Radiation Eggs 08-08-23.
Here is last night’s dreaming sequence. It seemed very important to me.
It is night and I am in a large American automobile with another man. We are driving along a road and up ahead we can see the flashing lights of a police road block. It is snowing heavily despite the low altitude. The weather has changed. We are heading from the central California towards the coast. As we approach a California Highway Patrol officer ushers us to one side with his torch. I pull the car over and wind the window down. He asks me where we are headed. I say towards the central California coast {implied Los Angeles conurbation}.
He says, “I am sorry sir but you can’t go there the radiation levels are still way too high because of the radiation incident. You can head to Southern or Northern California there are marshalling camps there and they are welcoming all comers, for now.”
I thank him and head South towards Southern California.
I come to and know that the dream refers to a nuclear attack. I briefly consider if we should get some 5 kilo bags of rice, flour, sugar, yeast, and a rudimental non-fancy barbecue today. I decide to try to go back into the dream.
I doze back off and am in a large seminar room with people sat around in a circle. It is in the USA somewhere. They are smartly dressed and professional. Arnold Schwarzenegger, as he currently looks, is speaking. I am sat next to him and helping him. He asks the audience a question.
“There are seven ingredients which we can use to solve this problem, make this meal to help feed us. What will you do? What will you say?”
He holds up a single egg and looks at it. This represents the first ingredient. He allows it to fall and it smashes on the floor. He then goes around the circle asking them if they have anything to say. One by one they have nothing to say.
He picks up another egg. Holds it up and similarly drops it. Again, it smashes on the floor. We can see two broken eggshells and raw eggs on the seminar room carpet.
The audience sits largely silent. He goes around the audience again. They avoid eye contact and have nothing to say.
He picks up another egg, representing the 3rd of seven ingredients. I am getting agitated. He drops the egg and it smashes.
He turns to me and asks, “Alan what do you think is going on?”
I say that they are being very complacent and waiting for someone else to make a move. It is a shame. They do not realise that the clock is ticking and that they are fast running out of options.
Again, Arnold goes around the circle asking for responses. None are forthcoming though a few are starting to fidget.
He picks up a fourth egg and throws it hard onto the floor.
He goes around the circle one more time and as he gets about halfway a young woman jumps up.
She entreats the others. “Come on!! We must at least do something, before it is too late.!!”
I come too and think that four broken eggs stand for the terrible inertia, things which might have become something have been wasted.
I then try to drift back off.
I am in a communal room where people are preparing breakfast. It is misty outside and European of feel. They are all listening partially to an old fashioned radio with a tuning dial and aerial. It is playing some insipid pop music. I go over to it and tune it to a news channel. There is nothing on the news yet. I say that I will go and type up my dream. I turn it back to the prior station. I say that it is very important that they listen carefully to my dream when I come back.
Dream ends.
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Nevada Students – Catching Eggs Dream 10-01-22
This is the second of last night’s dreams.
I arrive at a faculty building. I have been escorted there by a faculty liaison officer. She ushers me into a room in which there are around half a dozen graduate students. They are dressed in alternative / indie clothes and a few of them have died hair and piercings. I assume that they are arts students.
The faculty liaison officer tells them to show me around and generally be helpful. They introduce themselves as do I, on a first names basis. They are very friendly with only mild US accents. I ask them what they do and it tuns out that they are all scientists and use lasers in one way or another. They are from various departments. I decide not to ask them if they know Prof. A..
They show me around campus and towards the biotechnology building in which two of them work.
Before we get there, we sit down on some park benches on the grass. Two of the students sit to my left on one bench. There are a few benches around what appears to be a tree, at first sight. The students hold out their hands, palms up. I look to my right and then back to my left because I hear a sound. One of the students has a broken hen’s egg in his left hand. The tree is now a tree from which multiple brown hen’s eggs are suspended. From time to time an egg falls either on the ground or towards a hand. The trick is to catch an egg in the hand without it breaking. From the broken eggs on the floor, I can see many have failed. The students are enthralled by this activity and no longer notice I am there. In the dream I know that I would have no problem catching an egg without breaking it.
The number of people passing us increases. It is the end of the day, and they are heading to the car park which is behind us. I conclude that the main part of campus is where they are coming from. I get up and head off in that direction to explore. I make a mental bet with myself that I can find the centre I am looking for without looking at any signs.
Dream ends.
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Dreamyoga 