Tag: dreams

Random – Buffalo Shaman – P&L Dream 28-10-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s dream had between 4 and 7:30. I am going to open a new dream theme “random” and apply it to dreams which seemingly have little to do with me although I may feature therein.

My anticipation is that the dreaming will fade going towards surgery. It will then lay relatively dormant. This anticipation could be wrong.

The dream opens in a large room, part of a town hall and near a registry office. Sat around the room on large “leather” bound sofas are a collection of jet black men. They are all very smartly if non-standardly dressed. They look a little like characters out of a 1930s movie by their vintage clothing choice. There is some jollity and mirth. They are all Nigerian and gathered for a Nigerian wedding. They are big blokes and I think that they would make a good pack of rugby forwards.

I am to marry an Irish woman Aishleen to one of them. She is in the next room waiting in a white wedding dress.

I look down to the inside of my right wrist. There is  a white, made of bone, emblem there. It is a skull of a buffalo with bead decorations on the horns. The emblem is mostly two dimensional and is attached to me, tattoo like as opposed to affixed. One of the Nigerians says that I am the Buffalo shaman and that I must practice the rite. I gather the men together holding hands in a circle. We sing and chant a little.

They notice in one corner of the room a brilliant white laboratory style mouse. I must sacrifice it. To do this I take a book from the bookshelf and use it to squash the mouse. They cheer me on to do this. I squash the mouse and it flattens then disappears. It is OK now for the marriage to go ahead.

The scene changes and I am walking around South London near a park. The road is on top of a slope behind some metal railings and the park is in the valley below. It is in Streatham. I follow the road and go into a club house of sorts there is a meeting. The local “council” are discussing closing public toilets as a cost saver. I say that this is stupid as the cost saving is tiny. The lead for the meeting says that the finances are dire. I asks him to show me. He comes back with a summary statement. I say that no, I want the entire profit and loss, P&L accounts to peruse. Give me all the detail. That is the best thing I can do for them to do a thorough look as an objective outsider. I say that I think they are losing the plot.

He comes back with a full accounts setting and a younger woman clerk. She is dark haired, ample and around 40. I recognise her. He says that she will help me. She asks me if I remember where I met her all those years ago. She says that it was a 4 AM in the morning walking along Turners Road when I was accustomed to doing my late night walks. She says that we went back to hers for some more drinks. For some reason non sexual we are close.

As I wake up I think “random”…

The dream ends.

nagal’s courier – massive shit tip – dream 23-10-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is last night’s dream had after 5 AM.

The dream starts with the wife and I paying a visit to C whom I know to be a nagal’s courier by predilection. He greets us at the door to his house and invites us in. It is in the UK possibly London. The house is a complete mess, a massive shit tip. The place is in disarray with stuff scattered all over the floor. The kitchen is dirty and very messy. There are plates and saucepans unwashed. C himself is looking shabby and a bit fucked up. He does not look well.

I sit him down and start to clean off a metallic roasting dish. I scrub it in the sink until it is clean and shiny. I then place in it from my satchel a whole oven ready chicken. I add some roasting vegetables and turn the oven on. C says that he would like me to do two chickens if they will fit. That way he will have something to eat after we leave. I start cleaning up the sink and find in there another roasting dish which I chip the debris off and scrub clean. In the fridge wrapped in plastic is another chicken. There is nothing else. I check the use by date and it is ok. I place both roasting dishes in the oven to cook. I take a third chicken out of my satchel. It is plastic wrapped and in date. I put it in the fridge for later.

While the food is cooking I go to the bathroom. It is a mess. There is a “Karcher” style high pressure hose there and I start to pressure wash the mud and “shit” off the walls, the sink and the bath. There is a walk in shower and I wash the debris down the plughole. Slowly the bathroom appears.

I go back to the kitchen. I ask C how come he let thing get into such a state, such a complete shit tip? He shrugs his shoulders sheepishly. I know in the dream that this is because he made a big mistake concerning how he interacted and treated me. I say to him that soon there will be some food and that he needs to take better care of himself.

As I am coming to, I think “not another mess, shit tip dream pertaining to mess made by others!”.

The dream ends.

Diverse Intellectuals – Seer Time – Philosophical Dead Ends – Dream 22-10-2025

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Here is last night’s dream had between 4 and 6:30 AM. I should note that I am on nocturnal low dose oral opium for the hip pain and have been for several weeks.

It starts in an urban setting on a terrace outside some kind of clubhouse or bar. I am with a man who is younger than me maybe forties. We are having a beer at a pub style table. I understand him to be an intellectual, a university professor of some sort. He is animated and has set me up with various meetings around campus. His accent has a very faint American lilt. He has crazy unkempt grey hair with partial male pattern baldness. From his random hair I guess he is Jewish of extraction. He has a satchel with papers. We are discussing models of the universe and I comment that nobody has data before the big bang and that I prefer a cyclical universe model. I am pretty sure that this is not the first universe and that this is consistent with the Vedas. He says there is no need to invoke prior universe. He says that he has lined me up with a busy day and that we should meet up later. He is a bit like the mad hatter running late. He means well and is jocular and friendly.

He leads me off to a mid-multi rise building which is an office block he wants me to meet someone there. She is a psychology-philosophy cross over academic. We get to her office which is clean and immaculate. More top end business than nutty professor. He leaves me with her. She is tall of Germanic demeanour with mustard brown immaculately pressed slacks and an expensive green silk shirt. She is interested in evidence for the psychology of the soul. It is a non-publishable sideline interest of hers. I explain some of my views. She says that she would like to have more discussions with me later that evening. She takes my left hand and places it between her legs on her pubis. I can feel her genitalia. I withdraw my hand. I ask if that is on offer later and she says that maybe it is. She does not understand that I am no longer fussed about sex. She is completely relaxed and unfazed, sex to her is no big deal, a kind of work out. She is pretty formidable and focussed clearly on what she wants.

The scene changes and I am introduced to a small more geeky-nerd come woman with dark hair. She is a professor in game theory and logistics. She and I start to talk about games of logistical journeys. On top of an empty upturned beer barrel she has a simulation of a game for a delivery. She shows me. I explain to her that I have not the faintest idea what game theory is. She moves onto to poker. She says that she can mentally calculate the odds of each hand from current position of play. I say that such a thing would bore me and take away the fun. I say that were I to play I would do so intuitively. Her eyes light up. She is fascinated by the statistics of intuition and is convinced that it is a real phenomenon. She suggests that we have a few hands of draw poker later.

She leads me off to a laboratory building in which I meet a tallish man dressed in a M&S style navy jumper and blue chinos. He is clearly some kind of physicist. We start talking a bit about ultrafast and he maintains that time is a very important thing. I say that time is subjective and nowhere near as objective as he imagines it to be. From the point of view of a seer, time can be expanded or compressed. Perception and time are a part of the same phenomenon. I explain that highly skilled martial artists and sports people can slow the time so that it is perceived differently from others. That is why a 100 mph tennis ball is easier for them to hit. From a seer’s perspective time is like a tram line along which one can place perception at will and this includes far into the past. The physics of time around the putative big bang was very much more nonlinear than it is imagined today.

The physicist takes me to a different part of the building. We are in an atrium outside a lift when the doors open and out flounces a tall man with and expensive long leather jacket and longish hair. With him is a younger acolyte whom I know to be his student and homosexual lover. The man in leather is a well-known published  philosopher. I think to myself that he is a right knob, a bell-end and pretentious. The physicist is also not a fan. I am led off into an office with sofa and armchairs. Alone with philosopher and acolyte we start to discuss. He drops names like a machine gun. I say that in my opinion philosophy as a discipline is at a dead end, stuck. This is because one has always to compare back to previous lines of thought and endlessly refence the development of thought over millennia. Who cares what people thought before modern science? Philosophy is therefore stuck in a bad time warp. He thinks me an uneducated uncivilised heathen and I think him a bell end.

The dream ends.

Dreaming Back to Earth – 21-10-2025

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After the hectic dreaming of our time in Cirencester we are back here. Last night I had two short dreams which pertain to the day to day.

In the first one I was conversing with an officious nurse / sister in French about my hospital stay and ongoing treatment. There is a particular type of woman here who can react badly when their dominion is in any way challenged. It is a reminder perhaps to remember that sometimes discretion can be the better part of valour. A lot of people here are very passive to “the system” like sheep. I doubt my piss-taking sense of humour will wash. I am thinking how I might need to manage myself for the upcoming dice and slice.

The second dream had me going for two successive haircuts. Hair is the dreaming symbol for social self-perception.

Our route march from/to the landing gate in Gatwick airport and the sheer bedlam cacophony of the security checkpoint standing in line reminded me that I am not able bodied. Next time I may need to get special disabled provision, to be wheeled around. Certainly a day sack rucksack is a bad idea. A wheely bag exerts less gravitational force on the bone on bone hip joints.

It is pretty clear that I am no longer practised in the art of human interaction. I am eccentric and used to not being around people. I dress scruffily and at little expense. To those who pay attention to these things I will look poor and unfunded, shabby even. My clothing not from a clone-chain designer, there are no branded icons. I am at first look, out of place. I am not embedded in the fatuous feedback form star rating Pavlova. The take home message is to be ultra bland so as not to sore thumb it. Say as little as possible. Keep my gob shut.

My self-perception has changed a little.

It looks to me to be settle in for winter. Do what you can before the scalpel and drill. There are a couple of chores left on the list. There is nothing external which needs my attention. The world is not my circus.

Maybe when the spring time comes after perhaps a second bionic hip, there might be something external for me to do.

All that highfalutin stuff has blown away like leaves in the Autumn. Not my problem, nothing for me to worry about.

Which means that we have at least one green waste tip trip on the cards. I feel several sessions with the leaf blower ahead.

This week I get to see if Moley McMoleface has been trapped. There is a bit more DIY and there are the pipes to the cesspit to check and if needed clear.

Then it is medical admin time…

Italianate Piazza – Claustrophobic Room Dream – 20-10-2025

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Here is last night’s short dream had at Hilton Gatwick.

The first segment opens in a European city built around several hills with a river valley below. The roof tiling is terra-cotta and orange red. It has an Italian possibly Tuscan feel. The light is Mediterranean. I am with a few people, and we are going out in search of a well known piazza at which there is a duomo or large church. We are trying to find our way through the back streets and alleyways. We are in no rush. Despite taking serval turns we are unable to find the square. With ease we return to the hotel.

Several of the party do not understand why we might want to find an open-air piazza to dine in when there is a perfectly good hotel-chain style restaurant with a safe standardized menu. They invite us back to their room. In order to get into the room, one has to open the door, step inside, close the door and pass into the room past the door. The next person has to do the same. In order to get in and out one has to navigate the very restrictive one in one out doorway. The room is expensive and very claustrophobic. It is the same as all the other clone-rooms. If feels closed in.

We leave some of the small party in the hotel room and set off again into the evening air. In a small square outside the hotel, I speak to a dark-haired man sitting on a Lambretta style scooter. He is smoking. He says that we need to take the partially hidden marble alleyway to the left of the small square where he is and then follow the staircase up to the top of the hill where the big piazza is. There we will have views of the bay of Napoli and the mountain { query Vesuvius} as well as the church.

A few of us follow his instructions and find our way up to a large Italianate piazza around which are many restaurants with alfresco dining. There are music and a light easy-going vibe.

The dream ends.

Charity Food in Africa Dream – 19-10-2025

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Here is last night’s dream which appears to be a change in subject, moving swiftly on, dream.

The dream starts with me meeting a group of people. They are around a dozen in number and of mixed ages and ethnicities. I have been assigned the task of training them to function as a team and facilitating that process before they can be being posted to Africa implicit is somewhere like Sudan that is a mess. They have already received some training but do not know how to cater for themselves nor the kind of challenge they may face. They are idealistic in orientation and lack a gritty down-to-earth reality. They imagine things to be easier and better than they are. They are a bit goodwill fluffy.

I gather them together as a group and explain for the next few weeks we will be working at honing them into an effective and well-functioning unit, taking them past a group of rag-tag individuals. I explain that life in certain parts of Africa is very different to the UK and Europe. Supply chains cannot be relied on. There are shortages of food, other items, water and electricity. There can be large gaps in supply and that the need to be able to improvise is tantamount. I ask If any of them have any dietary foibles. There are a couple of vegetarians and one man who says that he eats only kosher food. I say to him they he needs to put aside his religious superstitions about how food is prepared and that the vegetarians need to get real. Where they are going ANY food is food and dietary foibles will be seen as insulting to the hungry and to the starving. They must get these quirks out of their system. Furthermore, they must make sure that they eat and remain well because if they become malnourished and weak they will be of no use to those they seek to help.

They are in high spirits. From this moment on the group will be catering for itself. There are no longer canteen meals. In front of me is a large cardboard box containing food items. I explain that these are their rations for the next few days and that they need to plan how to use them and use them well because no other supplies are forthcoming. They start to look what is in the box. There are potatoes, rice, vegetables, pulses and a number of whole ungutted chickens. They start to pull these out and to inspect them. I say they need to figure out some kind of catering roster and menus. They discuss without conclusion. There is a lot of faffing about.

There is a large black man there and he and I say that we will get them started with a dish for tonight. But after we have put it on the stove it is down to them to watch it, finish it and serve it. We knock up a stew using some of the potatoes and vegetables with a chicken. The stew is in a large saucepan in the large catering kitchen of the facility. We hand it over to others knowing full well that they are distracted and pissing about. The dinner will burn and they will go hungry. This will be their first lesson.

Meanwhile someone finds a fishing rod on top of a supply Land Rover and is convinced that he will fish for our suppers. I suggest to him that in the semi-desert there are not many well stocked rivers or fishponds.

Two young near children arrive on horseback. The big guy and I lead them into the stable and help them to remove the tack. We place it on wooden “fences” enclosing the horse stalls. We check if we have done it right. We have.

We go back to the canteen, and the food is burned. There are many recriminations. I say to them that they need to get their shit together or sending them off into Africa will be a complete disaster.

I then look at an Excel spreadsheet of their names. Two of the people on the list are travelling incognito. One is down as an unnamed Jehovah’s Witness, and another is without any name or affiliation. It is understood that he is from a high value background and could become a kidnap risk if his background became known. K is on the list and has turned up. I warn them not to be stupid and to try stirring things.

I turn to everyone and say that the start has been very poor indeed. If this continues, I will be unable to let them go because that would be a waste of the charity’s money. They are a bit of a shit show and not up to scratch.

The dream ends and I note that the dream is a change of subject and moving on from that covered in more recent dreams.

Waking Dream – French GP – UK Charity Dream 18-10-2025 – Bodhicaryāvatāra

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Here is the dreaming sequence had yesterday and overnight. The purpose of this current visit is to ascertain if a move back to the UK feels right and/or is otherwise on the cards. The previous few dreams have not been auspicious in this context.

Yesterday we were driving back along a valley and “no through road” “road ahead closed” signs became apparent with no further information. It is the only “A” road route. The signage for diversion was late and the following signage poor, to understate. It was done in a shoddy manner. This contributed to us getting lost in a hive of tiny single track country roads.

During the night around 1 AM the fire alarm in the bedroom started bleeping on a regular basis. I opened a window to allow air circulation. At home this often corrects. The bleeping continued. So stark bollock naked I climbed with my spastic body on a chair to investigate. The detector was stuck to the ceiling with dual sided sticky tape and two screws which had not been rawl plugged into the ceiling. The detector came away in my hands. I went to the bathroom the both of us wide awake and light on. I unplugged the battery and the bleeping stopped. The workmanship was quick-fix shoddy rushed.

——————————————-

A little later around 4:30 AM. Dreaming I find myself in the upstairs room of a village / town centre region in France. On the square outside I can see a church spire. The village square is cobbled. I do not know this village. In the waiting room next to the secretary a patient is waiting.  He is a man a little younger than me dressed in maroon cords and with a sleeveless puffer jacket. He has unruly curly hair around the circumference of male patterned baldness. He greets me in French with a great deal of warmth. He is a local big cheese. I have taken over as the village doctor, the village general practitioner. {GP}

I usher him into the office, and we discuss what ails him. He is after some more codeine for the pain in his knees. I know that the previous GP had been in the habit of dishing out drugs like sweeties. I ask him to get on the table for an examination. I flex and check his knees. Whilst I can hear some arthritic crunching the mobility is good. I say that we need to wean him of the opiates. He disagrees. I ask him if he remembers having a proper easy bowel movement. No. I say that this time I will prescribe him some codeine but the next time I will reduce the dosage. I open his cardboard covered dossier and look through we discuss in a mixture of French and English his posting to French Indochina and his time in the foreign legion.

Back in the waiting room / secretarial area the room is filling up with people to see the new GP. They are not all ill. It has a social function. The secretary gives me a glass of red wine, and the next patient comes with me for consultation. She too is a local big wig. She sits in my office and asks how much wine I drink. One glass a day I reply. I know in the dream that I do not drink at all. I am saying this because the wine was by way of a welcome. She then thanks me for taking up the position as GP for the village.

The scene changes and I am in a modern squashed in English new build two-bedroom house on the upstairs carpeted landing. A letter comes through the letterbox and lands on the doormat. It is a letter from a solicitor. I open the letter, and it is stating that I have inherited the chairman ship of an unspecified charity in Lerwick. I should travel there to take up post.

I make my way to a ferry port and get on a boat to cross to the islands. First, I have to descend in a lift to the disembarkation point. I get on the boat, and it is very low tide. Out of the window and in the caldera of a fountain which is where the boat is waiting, I can see large eels, ling and conger eels. They are congregating around the central fountain. There is no water. In my mind I note that I could come back here and throw a line should I wish to catch these eels / fish. Though I am unsure that I would wish so to do or why.

On board the boat is a member of the charity committee. He is advising me that there is a power struggle at the charity and as a non-islander there is both a chance that I could sort it out or a chance that I could further precipitate conflict. I am not overly keen on finding out which.

As I start to come to, I am reminded of two phrases, “perfidious Albion” and “may I be the doctor and the nurse”. The latter of which stems from Śāntideva’s so-called bodhisattva vows.

———————————————–

With my palms clasped at my heart,
I urge all buddhas longing for nirvāṇa:
Do not leave us blind and all alone,
But remain with us for countless ages!

Through whatever virtue I have gained
By all these actions now performed,
May the pain of every living being
Be cleared away entirely, never to return.

For all the beings ailing in the world,
Until their sickness has been healed,
May I become the doctor and the cure,
And may I nurse them back to health.

Bodhicaryāvatāra: An Introduction to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life

by Śāntideva

The Shit Hits the Fan Dream 17-20-2025

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I could not think of a better title for this. This dream was hectic swirling and as such some of the detail {believe it or not} is scant of recall. Yet the feeling of something breaking through from the dreaming and under some kind of “pressure” so to do is strong. The feeling is of “out of my hands” and “beyond my control”. In the dream I am unconcerned by the “nascent” chaos, I am calm in the storm.

The dream opens on a large rural property in France. It is our property but not the current one. In the corner of the property by the gate and the house I note first a ship container like builders’ office. There are JCBs and assorted land moving machines. A canteen. There are piles of building materials like gravel and hardcore. There are bricks and beams. They do not have my permission to be there.

I go over to the cabin and demand to see the site manager. I ask him what the fuck he is doing there, what the fuck are they doing? He says that we thought you would like it. We are doing it for you.

I explain to him that he could not be more thoroughly mistaken. It is not what I want. It is not what I desire. They do not have my permission and that to try to imagine what I want is sheer fucking idiocy. I say that unless they start packing up soon, I will come back with my shotgun. Under no circumstance is their imagined plan a good idea nor what I want. It is a fucking mess.

I go off to the house and come back with an SLR camera and start taking photos of people and kit, collecting evidence. The site “manager” is on the ‘phone to his boss who subsequently turns up. He says that we thought you would like it and that the plans are too late to stop. I say to him that stop they will, or I will make an inordinate hoo-hah and a scene the likes of which they have never seen before. I am already transmitting images to the press and the mayor’s office. They send JCBs etc. to threaten the mayor’s office but I have forewarned the press and the local community who are waiting for them. The whole situation is escalating beyond their control. I have leaked the financial accounts from the building group and its parent company and searches into their propriety are under way. I say that I warned them not to do things without asking me thinking that it is “what I would want”. Thinking that they know what I would want. Thinking that I would accept it and be pleased. I say to them that they have no fucking idea and that this mess is just the beginning. The mess, the shit has started hitting the fan big time.

{Implicit is again and the language use is as recalled from the dream}.

The scene changes and I am arriving at a Cotswold stone library with stained glass arched church like windows. Outside the library are a several reporters with cameras and microphones. They have heard that I am coming and are waiting to ambush me. I walk through the crowd, and several people push microphones in front of me. I say that I will organise a more civilised conference and not a scrum. I’ll set up in the town hall so please to be patient.

Later in the town market hall there is a press conference. It turns out the reporters have been investigating every aspect of my life from my schooling, where I went to university and which universities I have taught at. They have been doing a deep dive investigation into my life. The implications for the institutions have been big. I don’t care overmuch because I have nothing to hide. The search has also been security service themed. They too have been doing a deep dive look. The institutions are in “trouble” from a PR perspective because they have been trying to clamp down and keep secret / quiet which has only encouraged a wider and deeper interest. “What are they trying to hide?” being a journalistic motivator. British academia in particular is under scrutiny. The journalists start by asking me about mundane aspects of my current life. The whole thing is chaotic and out of control. I am completely unfazed, the snowball effect has started.

The scene changes to a European possibly Swiss university. It becomes clear that this is in fact Bern. My former supervisor is putting on a laser and light festival for the town at Christmas. I warn him via his secretary about the ongoing investigation. He is unperturbed and asks if I would like to help him with the light show. I say it is a good idea; I would like to but probably best for the event if I stay away.

As I am coming to, I am slightly tired because of the hectic nature of the dream and unsurprised at the theme of other people thinking that they know what is best for me and what it is that I want. When as is always they case they have no fucking idea. The feeling is that something has now been started which must simply unfold. Chaos may be on the wind.

I wake up thinking along the lines of same shit different day.

Wrong Opinion – Boys Gang – Dream 16-10-2025

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I’ll preface this with a comment. There is a tendency in some circles to believe the opinion of someone simply because they hold positions of power {and presumed responsibility?}. This tendency is unwarranted. It is like asking Trump or RJK for a medical opinion and expecting an answer which does not come from some geezer they met down the golf club. What they say is the sort of thing that people gob off to each other about but has no scientific or factual basis. People do gob off to each other a lot.

This dream comes not long before we head back to France.

The dream starts. I am observing some kind of grouping of people / task force / inquiry asking around about me. They are asking various figures in English academia about me and trusting the answers they are getting. They speak to one let’s call him prof T. He is “senior” and perhaps known to government. T is suggesting that I am after power, positional power and influence. He is worried in case I somehow and mightily weirdly challenge his power base. Way back I remember that he considered me some kind of political threat in an academic context. He was out to undermine me. People are listening to him and buying the narrative that I am seeking power. In the dream I think that they are Garry Glitter- my gang – numpties. Nobody has any current knowledge of me and at best what they say is old, back from when they were trying to make it. They are in a weird time warp. It is an English power trip maya-illusion.

The scene changes and I am in some kind of academic setting. They want me to give a presentation on my Ph.D. thesis to an audience and in front of a panel “gang” of academics. They are behaving like a boy’s club and having low degree mutual pissing up the wall point scoring banter. I have not prepared; it is a long time ago but start to present some of the work from my thesis on hydrogen bonded molecular clusters. The idea being that under certain circumstance we might enable gas phase proton transfer in a system tractable for study at ab initio quantum chemical levels.  I quickly get into my stride and thought pattern As the talk progresses, they interject to show their cleverness. They are pre-emptive because the next steps in the talk answer the questions. They are trying to show off and put me down, in my place. I decide that this is silly so add a comedic part to my delivery which the audience enjoys and engages with. They are being pompous. I finish my talk. The audience are jocular and enjoying the comedy

Someone else is going into the room to present. I wish him luck. I note that he has not taken his overhead projector marker pens.

As I come to, I am reminded of how clubby and cliquey things can be, how those in the club think they “know” but are very mistaken in their jocular chumminess. Back slapping is not wisdom. ….plus ça change

The dream ends…