Tag: Dreaming

Shamballa – Tunnel – Trealaw – Prince William – Serpent of Wisdom Dream 05-12-2024

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At around 4:50 AM having difficulty nodding off I started meditating building the Shamballa thought form starting by arriving at night. I then work on the outer chamber and then the inner chamber. I triangulate with the second ray masters. I then concentrate on building the inner chamber thought form from various points in the room. I can hold the form and bring it “back” with me into the bed. I managed to get a very good 3d full scale model thought form. I drift off. The first segment of dream ends at exactly 7:30 AM because I hear the central heating click on

I am travelling down a circular winding tunnel at tremendous speeds. The foreground is pitch black and the walls are stone-like as they rush by. There is no sense of corporeal just an awareness travelling. I sense that this tunnel pertains to time.

I am now in a much larger tunnel which I view through a grey night vision. I am travelling in a vehicle of some kind, a car. Ahead of me on the road is a white van. The tunnel twists and turns. I know that it is meant to be one way only. There will be no oncoming traffic. There does not seem to be room to pass. The van senses my desire to overtake. So, he pulls over as close to the walls as he can. I start to overtake and there is a rush to make it before the next bend. I just squeeze by. I flash my hazards to thank the van driver. I continue to hurtle through the tunnel.

 I am now at my grandfather’s house in Trealaw Road. M and J are there as somewhere, is nan. M is working in the upstairs bathroom which was not there in real life. She is working on a blocked toilet which has no seat, and it is full. She goes over and breaks a joint in the supply plumbing. Water gushes everywhere. She manages to find the stop cock. She is unwilling to accept my help. I know that there is another blocked toilet on the raised patio in the garden. It is open plan and without a seat. I ask her if I should use my plumber’s rods to unblock it. She does not want me to do this yet.

The scene changes and I am jumping down onto a triangular raft like boat not much bigger than one of our armchairs. It is a clumsy construction of twigs held together by straw. It starts to leave the bank. I reach out and pull the boat back to the bank. On the other side of the river in a garden is Debs. She is behind a wire fence that has a hessian panel occluding ~80% of the fence. She is huge and menacing and she is verbally threatening to destroy me. She comes close to the fence and sees me. She relaxes and attains her normal size. I see on the raft a triangle of blue medical capsules ~ 20 in number but in a very neat triangle. As I move to get off the boat and back on dry land the capsules fall through a gap in the raft into the water.

I am now back in Trealaw and start to work on the outside toilet. Using a plunger I unblock the outside toilet with ease. I go back into the house, there is a sense of expectation. I hear a knock on the door and there kneeling tying a shoelace is Prince William. I say welcome. I say that I suppose I should bow. I do this and he inspects the top of my head. He jokes that I have a little more hair there than he. He stands up and I say, “welcome William come in.” He says that it is nice to be treated the same way that he is treated in the unit. He goes upstairs.

I see everyone else on the floor pointing firearms up to the street and the gap between the terraces. I say to my father that I had better have a weapon. He hands me a UK electricity distribution board with four sockets. I put this to one side and pick up a black assault rifle with a telescopic sight. I kneel down and look out back towards the garden and the gap in the wall. I see a number of people in UK army fatigues. I call William to have a look and ask him who they are. I hand him the rifle and he looks down the sight. “I recognize those two, they are my royal close protection cover. It is they who have surrounded the building.” Everyone relaxes.

I wake and hear the central heating. It is 7:30 AM. I decide to go back into the dream to check the ordering of the dream.

I arrive at the outdoor toilet. I look into the pan and can see the tail of a snake. I reach into the toilet and gently grasp the tail of the snake. I start pulling and the snake comes willingly with my left hand. It coils a little around my left arm. I continue to pull and more of the snake’s body comes out. I reach down with my right arm to support the snake’s body as it comes out. I walk backwards a bit and ease the snake’s body down to the ground. The snake is ~3-4metres long and in part as thick as my thigh. It is a lustrous dark vibrant green, shiny. On its head are yellow-orange-brown markings a bit like cheekbones. It tastes the air with its forked tongue. We are at peace and relaxed in each other’s company. I know this snake to be the serpent of wisdom. It is he who has been blocking the toilets.

Dream ends.

Mistaken Identity – Jersey Arms – Dream 04-12-24

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Here is this morning’s dream after an unsettled night in which I came downstairs twice, once for biscuits and milk and then ~4 AM for some Rennies. This dream is from ~5 AM.

The dream starts in a communal office on an elevated floor in London. I am at an institution of education which is being visited by some dignitaries. There is a special meal put on for all the staff.

I have brought some broad beans and green beans from our garden to give to a colleague of mine. I say to him that I will put them in some water to soak so that they are good for him to take home. I make my way to the kitchenette area and fill a glass bowl with water. I place the beans in the bowl and go back to the office. I put the beans on his desk.

In walks a large boisterous woman with a small entourage. She is the head of department. She asks who is going to celebratory lunch given that everyone is invited. A number of people raise their hands. She turns to me. I explain that it is extremely unlikely that I would have subscribed to the invite list so I will not be going. They head off.

I am quite happy to go off campus to buy some lunch items.

The setting changes and I am in a wood approaching a gap in a dry-stone wall. Coming in the opposite direction is a taller version of Helen L. She is much younger than she would be now. In the dream I know her to be a Southerly Dreamer (she was assigned 19).  As I pass her, I say that there has been a mistake and that I have the same predilection as her, namely south. This brings an inordinate amount of joy. She smiles and we pass through the gap in the wall.

The scene is back in the office, and I make my way through the building to the staircase which leads down into the atrium and by passing through that out of the campus and into London. On the stairs I see a woman a bit younger than me coming up. She has a fluffy beige-brown jacket on. She has light brown/blonde wavy hair and is heavily made up with bright red lip-stick. She says that I remind her of Ant and Dec, a sort of collage. She says that we were getting on famously, implied snogging, in The Jersey Arms the other night. I say that I have no recollection. She insists that it is me. I say that I have never been to The Jersey Arms and that there is no such pub nearby. We cross each other on the stairs, both confused.

I am back in the office starting my foray for lunch again. I head towards the stairs. Now the clearance between the stairs and the ceiling is small. I have to lean very far back to descend. As I turn the corner onto a more open part of the stairs the same woman is there. She is similarly dressed. Again, she insists that we were getting it on and having a great time at The Jersey Arms. I say to the best of my knowledge I have never been to The Jersey Arms. She says that she will show the pub to me.

We leave and exit the campus into South Kensington. We walk down some of the grand streets which are being repaired and come to a sort of square around which are shops. I joke that I will probably be on CCTV. In the corner of the square is a tiny pub front with a sign saying The Jersey Arms. I know 100% that I have never seen that pub before nor been in it and that the woman has mistaken my identity. I do not recognise her.

Dream ends

On waking I put “Jersey Arms” into google and it comes up with multiple results for a pub in Middleton Stoney near Bicester. There are no Jersey Arms in Kensington

Vis Viva – A Journey to Sirius – Preface

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Frontispiece

The prophet is not diverted by illusions of past, present and future. The fixity of language determines such linear distinctions. Prophets hold a key to the lock in language. The mechanical image remains only an image to them. This is not a mechanical universe. The linear progression of events is imposed by the observer. Cause and effect? That’s not it at all. The prophet utters fateful words. You glimpse a thing “destined to occur”. But the prophetic instant releases something of infinite portent and power. The universe undergoes a ghostly shift. The wise prophet conceals actuality behind shimmering labels. The uninitiated then believe the prophetic language is ambiguous. The listener distrusts the prophetic messenger. Instinct tells you how the utterance blunts the power of such words. The best prophets lead you up to the curtain and let you peer through it yourself.

– The Stolen Journals [1]

Frank Herbert “God Emperor of Dune” Gollancz, Orion Publishing, London. Page 297 ISBN 0 575 07506 6

1st May 2008


Preface

As they say, “Every journey begins with a single step!”

I am heretic, a heretic to the church of reason. Though it was there that I began my genesis, there I found nemesis and where, I no longer belong.

This very morning as I mulled over koans and Leibniz, Lao Tzu and Newton, I stepped out of my front door. I looked down at our beautiful garden, now partially tamed and resplendent in the spring-ness of spring. Two beautiful white gulls flew overhead filling me with peace. I, yes I, had to return to the source and for me at least a part of the source of all this, is the second law of thermodynamics and that fate full night on a beach in Negril.

Over the last few days I have been waiting on a image from a lady in Australia to arrive and yesterday it did; a rose of deepest blue touched by the tears of heaven. This rose will adorn the cover of this book; “Vis viva – a journey to Sirius”.

Later, pondering on whether to start today or tomorrow and looking to clear my head, I took a stroll around the block. The wet earth rich in aroma from yesterday’s rain, the sun shining down on the fields nearby raised my spirits. And, as I paused to smoke on the bench, much as my grandfather had done, gazing out across the valley to Clydach, I saw a black crow chasing a red tailed kite into the sun. I followed them by eye until I could not bear it. I looked away and then only a few seconds later they were no where to be seen. The skies around here are big and there is no place to hide. But they were gone and I knew. I had to begin. It was an omen.

This book is not a book of answers. It is a book of beginnings. In these pages I will hope to outline a way of thinking that strays from the concretised thought patterns so prevalent today and in doing so will set myself up, for as we know, heretics are never welcome at the altar. Each church has for itself a bane of some kind and the bane of the church of reason is, proof. This is the catch 22 of a limited philosophical and dare I say “scientific” study of life. Here I mean science in the sense of knowing and knowledge and not in the sense of what has become the extension of technology which currently masquerades as science. How can I prove anything to you in the absence of a shared context? I cannot. It is only in reference to your knowledge and the veil of perception which is both yours and mine that I can attempt to communicate. In any case it is not things per se that I want to talk about, though of course things will be a part of this discourse. Proof itself is a concept. Proof is not really a reality but more often a mental construct within a thought pattern or collection of thoughts. In a sense proof requires a theory. In the absence of theory proof itself is only a potential construct of the mind which has yet to come into being.

Whether we like it or not the great philosophical, scientific, psychological and religious schools of thought have all influenced how we as mankind behave. They, along with the media, our peers and parents condition us to behave in certain ways. For example if lots of people agree on something then it becomes a truth and a lie told often enough becomes the truth.

Je pense donc je suis or cogito ergo sum, has permeated much of our thoughts and whether intentionally or otherwise has raised thought onto the high altar of existence, there perhaps to challenge the Divine for supremacy in the minds of man. If there is not thought then how can there be existence? Yet life itself is way beyond the scope of man’s petty intellect, it is so much more than that.

I feel therefore I am, is perhaps a better way of putting it. After all and once all that analytical thinking is done, life is much more of a feeling than a thought. Isn’t it?

Or even better still, simply, I am. Existence and life do not require logic or proof. There is no need for because, donc or ergo. At one level there just is.

The invention of these reasoning words pre-supposes a thought pattern upon the nature of communication that limits one in the exploration of being-ness. These words themselves hint at a direct and linear causality in life and constrain, implying the social conditioning inherent in the use of should and ought.

As part of this book I am going to attempt to reclaim some language before I use it. Words by their very nature, veil the truth and explicitly so. They take on a meaning or life of their own as they are used again and again. Certain sub cultures, let’s say for example the physical sciences use words in highly specified circumstance and within definitional frameworks, as such they cannot for them, have a meaning other than their context specific usage. Energy is a classic here. Ask any scientist what energy actually is and they will gloss over the subject calling it a capacity to do work. So what is this capacity that is energy? Does it really exist?

Here then is the beginning of the borders of a Kurukshetra, the Chautauqua of a journey into perception. Written by a man, in his mid forties, who has published in the physical science literature, co-founded a successful high technology spin out company and who was until recently a senior lecturer in chemistry at a top university. This means because of my qualifications that I am an initiate of a certain degree within the school of concrete science, the new religion of mankind.

Please, bear with me on this journey and let’s see how deep the rabbit hole goes

Talking – Effective Personality Disorder – INFJ Dream 27-11-2024

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This dream is from between 3 and 5 AM this morning. This is out of the blue.

The dream starts in the front room of my old house in Brixton. I am initially sitting on the coir carpet. It then shifts to a meeting room with psychological professionals discussing a case. I am to assist. One turns to the others and says about me, “I know that he is not a qualified professional, but he has an uncanny knack of putting people at their ease and getting them to talk freely. He is utterly nonjudgmental and very empathic.”

The scene changes and I am in a single bedded hospital ward. On the bed dressed in a hospital gown is a young man with wavy blonde hair which needs a trim. I say, “hi” and he replies. I go over and sit on the bed. I introduce myself. Implicit is that he has just survived a suicide attempt and is recovering. He is in a bad way. I ask how he is and what medication they had already tried. He says, “Xanax but it did not work very well!” I ask if they have a tentative diagnosis and he says, “effective personality disorder.” I already knew this in the dream.

The next day the staff wheel his bed down to the swimming pool. They are using water to help him walk again. I am dressed in my speedo swimming trunks. I lift him off the bed in my arms and walk into the water until such time that he can float. I let him float off my arms. He is smiling and very happy. We walk a few widths of the pool in the water and then I help him out of the pool. The healthcare assistants dry him and help him change into a new gown. I lift him back onto the bed.

The next day the scene is repeated but I also help him to swim a few lengths of breaststroke.

He asks me how I can make him relax. I say that we INFJs have tremendous and sometimes painful depths of empathy. We can feel the suffering of other beings and sometimes tune into it. We want that suffering to cease.

Dream ends.

A passing thought after the dream was, “is this pointing at helping others again”. A while back I started the process of joining Samaritans but was unsure of the other people seeking to join

Dragon Lore Dream 23-11-2024

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This is a short but very intense dream from ~ 4 AM

I am with MF whom I knew as an undergraduate. We are sat in the front room of a British house in which I am living temporarily. He is sat on leather bound armchair. We have invited him over for dinner. We have eaten and are relaxing in front of an open fire.

I am lying on my stomach on the floor. My legs are bent at the knee and moving freely. I am reading my beat-up copy of “The Mists of Dragon Lore”. I can see the well-thumbed yellowed pages. I turn to the back of the book. Inside the hard cover is attached a vellum high quality cream envelope, the flap of which is sealed down with a fine bright red braided fabric. I slowly unwind the fabric and open the flap of the envelope.

With utmost care I pull out a card like piece of paper which is like artist’s paper. Embossed into the paper is an exquisitely drawn oriental dragon. It is in jet black ink and is something to behold. Next to it in fine black calligraphy is written in Kanji is “the famed black dragon”. I show the dragon to M he admires it and thinks it odd that such a print is stored in such a tatty old book.

In the dream I note that this is the very first black dragon I have encountered. I have seen many other colours.

With greatest care I return the artwork to its envelope and retie the seal.

The scene changes and I am now with M in a freight railway carriage. The carriage is empty of goods. M turns to me and says that the mullahs are talking about the coming of a new buddha. I ask if he is referring to the Islamic mullahs. Yes. I say that I know a little bit about Buddhism.

M gets out a prayer mat and places it in one corner of the carriage. He sits on it. Two young white boys, young teenagers, follow suit sitting next to him. Without a prayer mat, I sit next to the youngest boy. I put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

The scene changes again and I am no longer in the carriage nor bound by the rails. I can go wherever I want.

Dream ends.

Dice Numerology Mantra and Periodic Table Dream – 20-11-2024

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Here is this morning’s dream segment perhaps following on from my Tibetan Dice dream at the beginning of November. I am in a project to carve some dice out of some Apple wood from our “orchard”.

In the dream I am shown a 3d image of a wooden die rotating in space. I note that the pairs of faces are 1 and 6, 3 and 4, 5 and 2. Each opposing pair adds up to 7 which in the dream I know to be the jewel of awareness 7, or need for guidance. I know that the maximum score of two dice is 12.

In the dream I know that 6 represents Carbon and 1 is Hydrogen. They are chemically fond of each other. Carbon plus Hydrogen is 7.

I picture a periodic table of elements and see 1 – Hydrogen, 2 – Helium, 3 – Lithium, 4 – Beryllium, 5 – Boron and 6 – carbon. I know that 7 is Nitrogen.

I understand that the dice represents the Mantra of Manjushri and chant it in the dream.

Om ah ra pa tsa na dhi.  

Wisdom ripens all sentient beings. Om 1 2 3 4 5 6

In the dream I know that Li and Be are highly reactive but I do not know much about Boron. Lithium is the basis of many batteries but it is very flammable in metallic form. Lithium is 3 mixed abundance.

I understand in the dream that I need to complete the manufacture of the dice and work on the Manjushri mantra.

Dream ends.

Note in Mo the numbering goes Om 6 5 4 3 2 1

The Shamballa Thought Form and Nomenclature

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There are certain words bandied about by esotericists and new agers which will grate on the ears of someone trained in the physical sciences. Because therein their use is specific and defined. If you talk about a vibration to a physicist, chemist or engineer it has a very contained meaning. If you say the vibration of a new age it sounds like poppycock, yet people will accept informal “only good vibes, man”.

It is common parlance in esoteric circles to talk about the astral plane, the mental plane and the buddhic plane. Plane to a scientist refers most often to a two dimensional surface or cross section, there are planes of symmetry about which reflections can be made. The misuse of language appropriated by science is a real barrier to any acceptance of esoterica in the mainstream scientific mind, a real turn off, a deal breaker and a red line.

If you speak about someone being polarised emotionally that has no defined meaning. If, however, you describe someone as governed to a large part by their emotions and emotional reactions that is more acceptable. Soap operas are popular because many like the emotional drama as it reflects their lives and how they pan out.  In esoteric parlance the majority of humanity is “polarised” on the emotional/astral plane.

Others are preoccupied with body, form and fornication. They are governed by physical sensation, hormonal response, instinctual behaviours and sexual urge.

Those more detached and less dominated by emotion could be said to be governed by mental or thinking process, these can be straightforward or highly abstract.

We might then loosely talk of three moods or modes of consciousness, carnal meaty, emotional and mental. In esoteric speak the physical plane, the astral/emotional plane and the mental plane. There is no plane simply a state, a mood, a flavour of consciousness where the being’s consciousness mostly is. It is possible to move between flavours. A simple act experienced by a detached mental type could cause an upswelling of emotion.

If you are often angry then you are governed by emotions. There is a lot of anger in the middle East just now, a lot of hot angry heads.

In esoteric circles there are the so called buddhic and atmic “planes” which are more “rarefied” and “above” the three “lower” planes. The buddhic state of consciousness is governed by intuitional mind {and heart}.

The aim of rāja yoga is, in one sense, to try to rise above the mundane, emotional and the pettier aspects of mind. The being then “spends” more time free of wild emotional swings and the desire for physical and sexual gluttony. We might speak of individuals who are largely physically governed, largely emotionally governed, largely mentally governed and largely intuitionally governed. {The intuition here differs from mental guesswork.}

This last paragraph does not use nomenclature which belongs to science. Instead of “plane” we are framing a loose description of a state or type of consciousness. No dimensionality is implied. An ordering, perhaps evolutionary is. The consciousness is increasingly expansive and inclusive as effort is applied and mind opened and broadened. One is not dogged by the incessant unwelcome boners of the physically governed and can allow consciousness and awareness to elevate above the belt and emotional storms.

In the blue books opus By Alice Bailey and Djwhal Khul Shamballa is mentioned as a “place” where the so-called spiritual hierarchy hang-out and meet. Human beings who have watched too many Raiders of the Lost Ark and Tomb Raider will be prone to imagine that Shamballa is a place with perhaps secret entrances. They will look for the kingdom of Shambhala referenced in a special scroll of Kālacakra tantra. The insistence on verbatim and dead letter reading causes people to seek out the resting place of Noah’s Ark. Maybe people are unwilling to accept the prevalence of metaphor and allegory in parable. It seems to me Moses parting the sea is more metaphor than physical “plane” reality.

In the works of Kuhl he mentions that the so-called maters can be “found” high up on the mental plane, near the buddhic.

In other words, people who are large mentally and intuitionally governed might be able to “contact” the masters.

Perhaps Shamballa too is a state of awareness, a level of consciousness and a thought form in which these evolved beings congregate from time to time. When one has risen above and expanded consciousness one might be able to build the Shamballa thought form and “go” “there”.

False Monks – Karmic Stones – Car Park Dream – 16-11-2024

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Here is this morning’s dream had after seeing the full moon light up the garden through our glass back door.

I am at some kind of a modern retreat centre. It is in a grand European style mansion. I leave my room and head downstairs into the atrium and start of the dining area. I run into a number of people dressed as Buddhist monks. The colours of their robes are vibrant and the quality of the cloth luxurious. Although they have shaved heads they are heavily made up with lipstick, eyeliner, eyeshadow and face powder. They greet me good morning. It is more than a tad bizarre.

They ask me if I remember Antoine. (A Russian I once met). Yes, a little. He comes into the atrium dressed as a monk with very short dark black hair. I do not recognise him. He too is made up.

They ask me what I want for breakfast. I only want to have some water for coffee. They say that they can’t allow that. I should join the other guests in the new dining block which is their pride and joy. It is the latest addition to the centre. They gesture towards an orangery type of out building the other side of a small canal or river. There I can see well heeled and expensively dressed men and women enjoying a hearty breakfast with fresh juices. These are paying guests.

I say that I only need coffee because I have work to do. Reluctantly they let me help myself to only a large mug of strong black coffee.

I head out and up a nearby hill. I find a pile of large stones there which I have previously placed. These are my rocks of karma which I have carried up the hill. It is time to take them down, put them in my car and dispose of them. I start to roll the stones down the hill. Some of them roll easily and accumulate near the edge of the retreat car park. Others take more effort to budge and roll in a more haphazard manner. These ones after rolling a while vanish into thin air. I do not need to take them home.

I get to the bottom of the hill and start to load the stones into the boot of my car. My car is small and light coloured. The car park is jammed with very little space between the cars. All the cars are pointing up hill except mine. Many are black and like 1960s style American sedans. My car is at the far side of the car park nearer the exit. There are only two rows of cars between me and the exit. I am blocked in. There is a young woman dressed in 1960s style clothes with a VW beetle which is pink. She moves her car to unblock my path. She then gets into another big black car blocking and manoeuvres that so that I can leave the car park.

I drive off out of the car park.

I know that all the cars, cheek and jowl, pointing the wrong way is a wider metaphor for humanity and its glamour and gluttony. I know that that the made up monks are trying to be popular and because of that set a bad example. They are also glamoured.

Dream ends

Being Watched and Residual Fate

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We have two feral cats who live on the compound, Felix who is black and white as you might expect and Gandalf who is grey and now white after the battle with the Balrog. Gandalf is a young, neutered female who is full of beans and Felix is an old warhorse who got her up the duff not long after she arrived here. I captured her and took her to the vets and the local charity paid for her operation for her to be released back here.  

When the wife was recovering from surgery for her breast cancer recently, I fed them both. Gandalf in particular equates me with food. So, I am under constant surveillance wherever I go in the garden. Having a patch of white fur is poor camouflage. Cats think they are clever. I can often feel it when Gandalf is observing me from some random place of hiding / vantage point in our 2 acres. I know. When I turn and look directly at her from say 50 metres, she has on occasion looked surprised and even startled. I have seen her flinch.

I have a kind of sixth sense, which may or may not be reliable.

Of late I have felt some kind of human observation, especially when I am down near the river. It is the wrong time for day for the Korrigans {fairy like beings often associated with water}. The feeling is always of a male, masculine. It has happened a few times in the last few days. But when I have turned to look there has been nobody there that I can see. The line of sight through the gap in the hedge points at a treeline on the hill. It is possible, though unlikely, that someone is watching. What are the crazy Brits up to now? The other day a helicopter flew over our property, stopped directly above, then turned around and headed south. This happened twice in a few minutes. If anybody is watching it must be bloody boring for them. I might set up some trail-cams.

Weird…

Today I have been mulling over if there is any residual fate left for me. The current hypothesis is that I will quietly eke out my days and experience my possibly karmic bad health slowly worsening. I don’t see much left for me to do. I am largely apart from the world. There are cancer and myeloma follow ups for the wife in the next few weeks which include another PET scan. That will advise.

The world is perhaps braced for whatever lunacy might ride forth from Tango man in DC. Maybe he will decree that all Americans must wear tin foil hats on their heads. You might be able to get a special MAGA cap lined with tin foil.

My dreams have pointed at using Tibetan dice for divination. I have made two prototypes from Walnut root. The root is too wet. The ones I made were not fair. It was easy to see that some numbers came up more frequently than others. They were “bent” dice. I have a method of production and nice piece of apple wood for the next iteration.

On the warrior’s path anything is possible. The universe has a bag full of spanners and a playbook full of curve balls. So, you never know for sure. Likelihood is a quiet fade-out to clog popping time.

Fizzling out like a dying sparkler seems quite natural and non-dramatic.

–

Sent la pluie comme un été Anglais

Entends les notes d’une chanson lointaine

Sortant de derrière d’un poster

Espérant que la vie ne fut aussi longue

–

Electric Blue Heron – Magic – Dream 11-11-2024

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Here is this morning’s dream had after 4.26 AM.

I am in our garden at the corner of the pond closest to the bridge over the river.  Stood on the bank of the pond looking into the pond is a heron.  Our regular visitor often stands here. This however is no ordinary heron. It is a vibrant electric iridescent deep blue. Its plumage is long so that it has a bushy look. I can discern individual feathers which sparkle in the light. I walk toward the heron and it turns to look at me. It does not fly off.

I walk towards the heron and it stays still. I sit down on the bank of the pond. The heron then walks slowly towards me and sits down in my lap as it might a nest. It nuzzles up to me and we start to merge. I incorporate the heron into my being. The blue heron.

I am writing on a clear white postcard with no image on to my brother in law. As I write to tell him about the blue heron the ink vanishes into the paper. I put his name and address in the appropriate place. That ink disappears. I go outside into a UK street and post it in a traditional red round post box knowing that despite the invisibility of the ink it will get there.

I am now at an airport terminal. The woman at the ticket desk reminds me of a New Zealand past colleague of mine P. The ticket desk is very much like an old style railway ticket desk with a movable device for putting money one side and the tickets the other. She ask me what meal I would like on the plane. I say that I would like sandwiches. She asks what filling I say chicken. She says that because of the price of chicken I might have to pay in flight.

She places the ticket in the device and rotates it. The ticket is made out in the name of blue heron and is old style with multiple layers of carbon paper. I board the plane.

–

–

I sit on one side of the aisle. I have a window seat as there is only one seat. To my left are two people sat in modern airplane seats with TV displays. They have their trays down and their lap top computers out. There is a sense they are scientists and techie.

The dream ends.

Heron is a bird of prey, therefore a dreaming symbol of power.

The electric blue is perhaps blue a symbol of humility and understanding.

The Heron is a patience hunter as totem it is about individuality. 

Air travel is awareness with respect to rational ideas and concepts.

The incorporation of the heron feels magical / shamanic – power {the will of the universe} a form of transformation.

There is a sense of old and new butting up against each other.