Tag: #dreamyoga

Gorillas – Plane Concept – Davos –  Cairo – Freedom Dream 05-10-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is last night’s dream sequence mostly had before 5:15 AM. I almost did not want to go back to sleep in case there was more incoming to remember.

The dream starts with me crossing a wooden style over a fence into a green meadow come fallow field. The field slopes gently up to the left and gives way into a wooded copse. I have no shirt on my top. I start to run along the length of the field. I can feel the impact in my pelvis but cannot see my legs. I am unaware if I am clothed or not below the waist. I have not run for a very long time and am unaccustomed. I am enjoying it. The sun is out. The air is crisp. I am moving fairly well. I get to the style at the other end of the field about 400 metres away. I stop and turn back.

I start to run back. To my surprise both my legs seem to be working well. As I get near the corner of the field with the style I can see two groups of gorillas. Nearest me are three adolescent juveniles who are playing with each other. Nearer the style there is a huge silverback, his mate and two infant gorillas. I note that there are seven gorillas in total. I wonder if I will disturb them and cause the silverback to attack. As I get closer I decide not to try for the style but to head up the hill. I look to my chest and joke to myself that perhaps they will think me one of them. I start to head on a different trajectory uphill and without staring directly at the silverback. From time to time we catch eyes. He is content and chilled chewing on a piece of grass.

As I head up the hill I notice some human houses with fences to the field. I can see in the wooden slat fence a gate with a padlock able bolt lock in grey metal. I slow down and slide the bolt back which opens the wooden gate onto a path / unmade road. I step through onto the path and close the gate behind me. I am met by a middle aged Germanic house frau with blonde hair fixed in pleated curls to her head. She gestures me to follow her into her house and thence into a garage come hangar. I now have  a white long sleeve shirt on. I know that I am in an alpine village and that the elevation is around 1500m or more. I can tell this from the flowers in the meadow. She is very insistent on showing me into the hangar.

On the concrete there is a large model wooden plane with a brilliant red paint job {think red arrows}. It has a wingspan of over one metre. The propellor on the front is damaged. She asks me to fix it. I look up the model number on a lap top and download a technical drawing of the spare parts. I order these. The parts cannot be delivered on time. We agree that there needs to be a faux or ersatz propellor for the show. She calls a relative, a male, who fashions a propeller out of hide leather. This will be good enough for the first show. However the village is buzzing because an offshoot for the Davos World Economic Forum is due to visit the village. It will be good for the local economy ongoing.

She says that I should fit my own novel prototype propellers in time for this visit. I have developed a new kind of prop-drive unit which they would like to see. I agree and start fashioning the propeller design out of some metal lying to one side of the workshop / hangar. I check that the design will fit and can be driven by the onboard motor of the model plane. This will be ready for the Davos offshoot and they are particularly interested to see what it is that I, specifically, have designed.

The scene changes and it is just after dusk. The air is warm and scented and I am in the back seat of a taxi come limousine. I am arriving at the drop off “roundabout” in front of the Hilton Intercontinental in Cairo. I am a specially invited speaker at some kind of conference there. The driver gets out and opens the door for me. I go in and head to reception.

The scene now changes to some kind of communal market / fête. People are milling about it is in a town centre. Some kind of market town like Marlborough. I have been interviewing people with a microphone and a small production crew. I have been giving them the verbal prompt “freedom” and asking them to make a short response as to what springs first to mind. We have edited the first batch of clips and are projecting them onto what looks like a cricket white side sight screen. There is sound.

The first clip is of me saying “freedom”. The people / audience pause and watch.

The subsequent clips are of people responding to camera and microphone.

“Freedom from war.”

“Freedom from oppression.”

“Freedom from hate.”

“Freedom to love.”

“Freedom to think.”

“Freedom to breathe.”

“Freedom simply to be.”

Once the clips have been shown the people carry on about their business.

I am with three generations of a family they are a Somali / Eritrean grandmother skinny in a headscarf, she has that distinctive look, her anglicised more corpulent daughter dressed smartly and Western and a young girl. The daughter ushers me into the back of a limousine / van where we will edit more of the responses. I initially sit in the front left hand passenger seat. I cannot easily help the edit. It tanks it down with rain. I get out of the car into a deep puddle wetting my legs near up to the knee. This causes hilarity particularly for the young girl. I climb into the back and am handed the lap top. We are very happy that we have gotten enough “freedom” clips for now.

I awake for a loo break. I am in two minds whether or not to get up because if there are more dreams I may not be able to remember and recollect them all. That is already a lot to recall.

I drift back off and am in some kind of a social club / bar. I am in the entrance vestibule taking off my jacket when deeper in the bar I see Anita. She sees me and come running over to give me a hug. She is small. She says that she is very glad to see me because she wanted to tell me that she is leaving for Geneva. She has a job there. I say that this is fantastic. I have a series of commitments starting first in Fribourg and working my way south towards Geneva. Ending with a gig there. I have an “appointment” or job at a school near Geneva if I want one.

The dreaming gets more bitty but has me returning later to the bar to pick up my keys and things. I am completely naked and vulnerable but the barman has kept my things to one side and is very happy to return them to me.

The dream ends and I am determined not to go back to sleep.

Flying – Shot At – Antique Rifle Dream – 02-10-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. It is the first flying dream that I have had in a very long time. Previously a long while ago I was able to direct the flying as one might in a lucid dreaming scenario. I quickly realised that this, although pleasant, was not dreaming proper.

The dream opens on a grassy hillside looking out over verdant countryside. The hill is a part of a range of hills rising out of a very flat farming countryside, a patchwork of fields. It is UK or Northern Europe. The sun is low in the sky, East. It is not long after dawn and there is a dew on the grass. I am enjoying the morning sun on my face. It is morning and I am very much alive because of it. I feel the breeze blowing towards the South along the range of hills.

I lean into the breeze and allow it to lift me. I am soaring on the breeze like wearing a wing suit though much lighter in feel and slower of velocity. I can soar like a raptor, a condor on the thermals at the edge of the range of hills. I am dressed in my normal combats and a Berghaus fleece. My hair has grown. I bank towards the East.

There is a brief interlude in which I look down on Sicily from an altitude of space. I can see the geographic contours of the island as per a map.

I am now back on the wind flying around a hundred metres or so above the hillside. I notice stones and bullets starting to whizz by me. Someone is taking pot shots. I land behind a small rocky outcrop. Down on the flat land behind a dry stone wall I can see two old Land Rovers in khaki. There are men with slingshots and modern black semi-automatic rifles shooting at me.

I find my antique rifle which has a wooden body, the wood is a burnished chestnut colour, it is bolt action and has a small magazine. It has a telescopic sight. It is a hunting or sniper rifle. I hold the trigger grip in my right hand and bring my left eye to the sight. I can clearly see the men behind the wall. I fire a shot and notice it is slightly off where I am aiming. I adjust the sight and remember that the bullets are low calibre, there is not much of a recoil. I use my right hand to operate the bolt action. I then get various members of the party with their heads  in the sight. I know that I could easily kill them. Instead I aim a shot at the top of the stone wall. It strikes between two of the men. They recoil and duck. I repeat the action between two more of the men. The men are now all down behind the wall. They run for the cars and drive off. As they do this I shoot one of the cargo rails on top of the rear Land Rover. I can hear the metal on metal from where I am. I place the rifle on the floor and launch back into flight.

This time I soar higher and can see the cars winding down the country roads. I am enjoying myself considerably in the morning sunshine. On a hillside in the middle distance I can see my wife sat meditating. In front of her drying in the sun are a t-shirt and her combat style sweat pants. I fly over to look at her. She is wearing a full shawl. She is not yet ready to fully take flight. By mid-afternoon she will be ready. I will come back for her then. I head off towards the sea. I know some ocean cliffs there where I can be with the seabirds for a while.

The dream ends.

Special Forces Kidnap Dream – 28-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 4 and 7 AM. Another totally out-of-the-blue dream.

The dream starts in a very crowded place, some kind of event in the UK. It has the feel of a posh horse race. Some are overdressed. Everyone is looking in one direction. I am there with the wife who is standing next to me. There is noise and a feeling of crowd group mentality. The wife is standing to my left.

There is a very large man standing behind me and a big one to my right. He grabs my right bicep very firmly and the man behind me moves closer.  The one holding my bicep says to me in an Eastern Europe accent {query Russian} not to move. With his free right hand he shows me an automatic pistol in his military style belt. Under his bomber style jacket he is also wearing a black Kevlar style bullet proof anti-stab vest. His grip is very firm and he says that I have to go with them and quietly. The wife sees what is happening and I tell her to remain calm. We move off from the crowd and towards a waiting transit van which is dark in colour and windowless in the back. The other man is also armed.  They have short blonde military style haircuts and feel special forces or secret service. They have blueish eyes. I understand that they are the “muscle” or “goons”. All the while we are walking to the van the first man has a strong grip on my arm. I relax completely and do not resist. I can tell from the motion feedback in his arm that this surprises him. I am very calm and very focussed.

They put me in the van and drive off. Some considerable time later we are in an empty underground carpark which can hold maybe half a dozen cars. I can hear the metal shutter roll doors closing as they pull me out of the back of the van. I am wearing metal handcuffs. The driver of the van remains seated. I am now outside the van facing my two captors. From their movements they are lithe and physically fit. The bigger man must be 130-140 kg and well over six feet tall. In my mind I think second row forward. The smaller mans says that I have been inordinately difficult to find. That they have been looking for me for a while and that I am going to be questioned. They are going to interrogate me at “the” facility. The smaller man says that they are going to get into my mind one way or another, they always do. I think to myself, “good luck.”

The bigger of the two men stands in front of me and makes me put my handcuffed hands out. He then interlocks his fingers with mine. His right hand to my left and his left to my right. We stand facing each other  with hands interlocked. He towers over me. I shift my weight and get under his hands picking him up into the air. It is mildly painful for him. I have to put him down. He lets go and smiles. He jokes that the first round goes to me. Which both he and his companion find very funny. I am completely aware of the high level of brutality which may follow but know that will not bring them the answers, the truths which they might seek. I start to think how I might play on their superstitions and fear of the darkness and evils. I start to conjure in my mind the blue fire dragons which I will unleash when ready.

They lead me up to a shared living space. There are other prisoners there and a rudimentary kitchen. There is an Indian man and his wife. There is a Chinese looking man. In the kitchen I can see that the cutlery is plastic. They lead me off into a concrete floored room with a high ceiling and a single old-fashioned school chair. There is no toilet or heating. The room is sparse. The floor is sloping. They lock the door behind me. I go and piss in the corner of the room where the slope causes a small puddle of urine to form. I know that I am being observed on CCTV. I go back to the chair and sit down. I start to meditate and build the pool of blue electric fire out of which I can send dragons to watch their families, to observe and report back.

The dream ends.

Quantum Modalities – Ai Tosh – Three Cats Dreaming 27-09-2025

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Here is last night’s dreaming. The first part came from a sleep which lasted through to ~6 AM. Given the current state of my body this length is nigh on unheard of!

The dream starts with me pulling up by car at some huge generic modern science park with start-ups and conference facilities. There is much new building work evident. I park outside the conference centre and go in. The front desk directs me to the workshop on “Quantum Modalities”. It is in a suite of purpose built smaller conference rooms.

I arrive at the reception where there is a man and two female administrators. They are handing out badges on lanyards and marking attendance. The man is mid-thirties, the women slightly younger. They are professional and slick. The man takes me by the arm and leads me to a session. He explains that it is by way of think tank for kicking around ideas and concepts. No limits. He says that there are several teams, focus groups. He leads me to one team sat around a table arranged in a square, with a gap in the middle, like a square polo mint. The people are mostly men and all forty or younger. They are smart, well paid, vocal and energetic. My age and demeanour is in very marked contrast. The man introduces me to the group lead who is an Italian with excellent English. He is from the European grouping. He looks at my lanyard and welcomes me. He asks my background and I say that it is lasers and diverse types of optical spectroscopy. The others largely ignore me. I am not one of the “gang”.

A discussion starts about which modalities can be ruled out for optical quantum computing. These include infrared and solid state absorption due to decoherence. I say that my best bet is on background free ion detected stimulated Raman. They nod and slightly ignore my suggestion. I am after all the dinosaur. It is clear to me that they are fixated on the traditional notion of computing based around a microprocessor core and conventional binary type computation. Their thinking is generic and almost clone like in its similarity. They can only envision a static computer. I can see a visual image of a shiny microprocessor lit from above. It holds their minds. They go on largely talking among themselves. I get up and leave. Nobody notices.

In the main auditorium there is a talk on the future of AI. On stage is a smart young woman late thirties in a skirt suit with blue shirt. She is CEO grade. She has a headset with earphones and a microphone on, TED like. She has an accent from the USA bay area conurbation. She is speaking jargon buzzword tosh and not actually saying anything other than buzzword mantra. I know that the reason AI is popular is because the end of Silicon miniaturisation is nigh. They are reaching the atomic limits of processing. The industry is bricking it because they do not know what comes after Silicon. I find the talk yawn-some so I get up and leave.

I go to the bathroom and am very surprised that the large numbers on our “nanna” clock say 6 AM.

Back in bed I have to make a deliberate effort not to think about quantum modalities because I want to go back to sleep. I keep coming back to the idea that the “processor” cannot be a static thing. And that a totally genuinely radical re-think is needed to implement and optimise how to use quantum efficacy. They are currently at a conceptual dead end, blocked.

I manage to drift off.

The next segment has me arriving at another meeting this time held at a British governmental lab facility. It smacks of the tea and cake, white bread sandwiches canteen. It is an adjoint facility to a secure defence establishment like AWE. It is outside the fence. Nevertheless there are security {military police?} there. I go into reception. I am very early for the afternoon meeting I have been invited to. I am not on the lists that the reception has yet. I say that I am there for the afternoon meeting. He ushers me to a table where I can set up my laptop. I do this and get bored.

I go outside onto a grassy space with a slight slope. Lying on the upsloping ground I boot up the lap top. I am joined by the three cats, Bibi, Gandalf and Felix. Felix {now presumed dead} looks young and clean. The cats sit around the lap top and we are serene enjoying the outdoors in the autumn sun.

A young man and woman are nearby and they say hi. They are going back to London. I offer to give them a lift. I cannot be bothered to wait for the afternoon session. We head back towards the car. Bibi darts across the road stopping traffic. She is unhurt. Gandalf has climbed on my shoulders and Felix lies in the gutter playfully. The so-called wild cat offers me his belly to tickle which I do. I then pick him up and place him on my right shoulder so that I have a cat on each shoulder. Together with the couple we cross the road on a zebra crossing. We are joined by Bibi on foot. We make a slightly odd sight

We are nearing the site canteen and it is very busy. People are chatting on their way to lunch. Bellies are rumbling. There is a hub-bub. I try to remain inconspicuous looking to avoid anyone I might know. There is nobody. We make it to the car park and we all get into the car, three cats, me and the young couple.

The dreaming ends.

Ian – P&L – Didn’t Ask – Avocat – Big Mistake – Dream 25-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. It is perhaps the most out-of-the-blue I have had considering the subject matter. It was from between 6:15 and 8 AM. I had thought that the present “cluster” of dreams was over and that I would not go back to sleep.

I am sat in a lounge like living area of my house. Which differs from the current real world one. Ian my flatmate from the early eighties is with me. He has come for refuge from the hurly burly, the stresses and strains. We are chatting and I pour him a  glass of wine. He says that “they” are probably going to close his university department, meaning the “senior” management. It has been an uphill battle and student recruitment is down.

I offer to look at the P&L accounts for his department to see if there is anything he has missed. I explain to him that I was a company director. He hands them over and I do a thorough look. Two of the three sub-courses are loss making. I don’t see an obvious way to turn it around into profit, but losses can be reduced. I see an alternate revenue stream. Which we discuss. We have a brief siesta.

To get some fresh air we go out into the garden. It starts by looking like here. Then we get on a quad bike to explore more widely. He sits pillion and we race about having some fun. We come to an area of the garden. There is a paved path going from the main road across the/my property to a fenced off industrial quasi-governmental compound with low rise multi-storey buildings. There is a security fence with gate and pass code entry. This morning the path was not there. They have built it while we were asleep.

When the wife comes back from the supermarket she too will be unimpressed.

I drive up along the path to the security gate. Ian and I dismount. I press the buzzer on the gate and a workman in dark blue overalls appears. I ask why they thought it was a good idea to build the path across my land without permission or legal right of way. He does not understand English. So I repeat in French and say that I am about to call my avocat-attorney on the ‘phone. He needs to get me someone senior to talk to.

He goes and come back with a young man in his thirties-forties. He is wearing jacket and jeans. I ask him why he thought it was a good idea and otherwise OK to build on my land without asking and why they infringed property trespass. I will sue for trespass. He is placatory and acts as it does not matter, bof. I am unimpressed to understate.

I proceed in French to demand that he gets the company head because I will be taking the lot of them to court. I will hold each one personally responsible. I start to increase the intensity levels considerably.

He scuttles off and returns with a man around my age who is tall with receding hair. The man dismisses what I am saying. I say to him I have only one question for them. In English now.

“Why did they think it was fine to not ask me, to build without my permission, why?

He says that he has read about how tired I am and that they did not think that I would mind and that in any case there is not a lot I can do against a corporation like theirs.

I reiterate, “why did you think it was a good idea not to ask me?”

He says that they did not want to bother me and they thought that I would like this. I can have an honorarium for everyone who uses the path.

I switch back into French. I explain to him that a couple of decades ago I raised five million in start up funds and that the type of person who does this is not ordinary. That it is and was a very stupid thing to underestimate someone like me. I say that he is probably right that in the end they will “win” and I will loose money. I say that in the meantime I will make life incredibly difficult for them and that karmically speaking to behave in the manner towards me is utter stupidity. They do not understand quite how stupid.

As I say this I am swelling in intensity. The man who is used to being obeyed and having people fawn is finding the encounter very difficult. He does not know what to say or how to respond. His implicit threat has not worked. He looks nonplussed.

He says,  “but we thought you would not mind and that we did not need to ask you. We thought we were right…”

I say that they have made a grave and serious mistake.

The dream ends.

Note – I am capable of an interpersonal intensity which very few have experienced. I hold  back.

Hashish – Angel – Roses – Little People Dream 23-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. A series of snippets. This is the first Angel in a dream for me.

The scene opens in a living room. There are several young men sat on sofas and chairs around a large messy coffee table. There are a few empty beer cans and an empty pizza box. They are trying to be ‘hood and cool. There a rolling papers and an ashtray. One of them with a grey tracksuit on is unwrapping a small foil parcel which contains some dark black soft oily hashish. He says that it is 3/8 of an ounce and that he knows how to get more. They think they are a bit gangster like and are in a turf war skirmish with another group of adolescents. I am watching the scene from above. They are egging each other on with bravado.

A youth brings in a woman who looks like Brenda Blethyn in her role as the mother of Christie Brown in “My Left Foot”. She looks frumpy and decidedly normal. The youth says he found her lurking outside. They are thinking about bullying or intimidating her.

I arrive / appear and stand next to “Brenda”. I say to them that she is an Angel. A particular sort of Angel who despises conflict and is highly trained in diffusing situations and helping people from erring into darkness. They look unconvinced. I say that the strength of this kind of Angel is their apparent  innocuousness. I say that under no circumstances, no conceivable circumstances, should they cross an Angel like her. She can switch from mild suddenly and that they would not like the results one little bit. Angels are powerful beings. Brenda smiles silently at me and we look at the youth quietly waiting to see what they will do. We are comfortable with each other, familiar even.

The scene changes and we are outside in the formal gardens of a large grand French chateau. The wife and I are tending a plot in the rose garden. The previous gardener has done a poor scrappy job. We have weeded and pruned, fertilized and tidied. I finish edging the bed into the immaculate lawn. We head off down a gravel path and meet a man working of a rambling rose bed elevated from the path. He says that these “arbustiers” need a highly specialised care. He has been caring for this bed among others for decades. He has a checked shirt on and is tanned. He is wearing a cream Panama hat and is very English. He says that the owner only employs British people to look after roses as they are better at it than the French.

The scene changes and we are outside our current house. The nurse arrives and comes in to check our medication. I say to her that we are very organised, there is no need. She checks anyway. She is in a hurry and highly stressed. We follow her out. Her husband is waiting in the car with her children. The windows are steamed up with condensation. I suggest that she lets the children out to stretch their legs. This she does. The man also gets out. The wife is with me. We all stand around and chat. A small girl around five with brown hair in a bob wanders off. The nurse is worried. I say not to worry. She heads towards a flower bed at the end of the garden and I follow her. I shout back that she can see the little people, the fées and pixies, the Korrigans who live there. I say that she will be safe with me because I too can see them. They know me well. We are friends.

The dream ends.

Rain Forest – Dreamtime – Barramundi Dream 21-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s “nice” dream. I thought at last a dream with no politics or intrigue in.

The dream opens with a small convoy of three or four Land Rovers leaving a bitumen road and heading off down a dirt track. The cars have cargo rails on top and are laden for expedition. I am driving the rear car. We head down a track into an increasingly dense rain forest. The wet dust becomes more muddy. We reach a car-park staging post and must yomp to the residence huts. We load up with as much as we can carry. Leaving more stuff for future retrieval. We have enough to set up for the night and a few days. But we will be here for weeks so there will be more trips needed.

The footpath is pretty good but needs clearing on occasion. We approach a small compound which looks like a scout hut / ex-military training facility. It is arranged around a quadrangle. It is sometimes used for team building purposes. Because we are relatively few in number we will bed down in the main hut which has bunks for us all. There are several floor to ceiling curtain divides to make rooms. The last users have not tidied up after themselves. I put my pack down in the end “room” and a very young Pierot takes the bunk next to mine. The party is all young, twenties and thirties. They are students on an archaeological dig from university. The woman in charge is a slight small white woman of mid-thirties with freckles and light brown hair. It is her dig. They all want to go and see the dig site before dark. I stay at base making it ship shape and Bristol fashion as is my want. I make the beds and check the mosquito nets. I reattach the curtains. I put two pots of stew on to cook, one veggie one meat. I check the supplies.

They all come back excited from the dig site and Pierot wants to take a group photo which he does. In the creek below we can see serval canoes filled with Australian army “diggers” they have exited on the river out of a cave system and are proceeding downstream on a training exercise. Because of the state of the world the military is on alert. In a cliff on the other side of the creek I can see a command and control post cut out of the cliff. There are a couple of officer types in there.

The gang gather for food and I take the woman lead to one side. Her hair has gotten frizzy from the intense humidity of the place. I tell her that I used to do team training events like for UK GRAD. I organised these. I say that I am happy to organise the logistics of the stay. It is for her to say what she wants. She is very happy for me to do this. I am much older than everyone else. In one sense I am my current biological age and in an other many thousands of years old. It is because I am there that the aboriginal elders have allowed access to the dreamtime site which they are going to explore. This is because I am dreamtime too. Night falls suddenly, we eat and retire.

The next morning we all head down the trail to the dig site under the rainforest canopy. The sounds of the jungle are magnificent. We reach a descent through red-brown mud arches made out of dirt which look like we are going through an earth ribcage. The pillars on either side are a bit reminiscent of huge termite mounds.  I am completely at home here. The feeling is mysterious, dank and damp.  There is a kind of portent to the structure. The “rib cage” extends for a hundred metres or so downhill. The path is wet underfoot and we must be careful. As we near the bottom two of the young females are to one side of the path. They are a young white woman in a white t-shirt, khaki shorts with open shirt and a brown woman similarly dressed with a red t-shirt. She has jet black hair and is mixed race. They are both damp from humidity and sweat. They are young and hormonal. I pause by them in shorts and shirtless. I am lightly sweaty among my chest hair and on my biceps. They both look at me in a quasi-erotic lusty way. There is a kind of a spell. They are still prone to these feelings. I hold their gaze for  a while and the spell is broken. I know them to be from the “South”. I pass and they fall in following me further down towards the site.

The path veers down and flattens out. We are now next to a large plunge pool for the creek. The creek flows to the right of the pool which has depth and reeds. The water is crystal clear. Above the creek at the edge of the rain forest I can see kangaroos. Theses are unusual in the terrain. I gesture with finger to lips for silence and point at the kangaroos. I explain that they are a very rare type of wallaby found only here in the tropical northern part of Queensland. The wallabies have come to observe who is approaching the site and what they are doing. The wallabies are “chatting” amongst themselves.

The party continues on to a clearing near the river bank within a quasi-ring of eucalyptus which was a meeting place. There are burn sites there and the site extends in all directions. Here the rain forest is sparse because of the human use over the many years.

I look into the plunge pool and throw out a line. I pull in a big clump of weeds. I know that there are fish there especially near the margin of the creek flow. I should need to fish at the edge of the deep away from the weeds and near the flow. I know that Barramundi the fish is there. He is there with his family. Barramundi will let us have sustenance to add to our pot. But only I must fish for Barramundi in this spot. I see Barramundi the dreamtime. I see Barramundi  the river fish. I know Barramundi and he knows me.

I will feed the party and care for them over the weeks ahead.

The dream ends and I am happy that I have had an uncomplicated dream.

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