Tag: Gossip

Chaotic Mess – Rare Slow Soul Magic – Dream 12-12-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Sleep last night came in two segments 12 – 2:30 and after an hour of TV, 4 to 7. In “A Discovery of Witches” season two last night Diana masters the ninth knot, the spell of endings and beginnings, the knot of completion(s). Implicit is inherent in this is also the tenth knot. Diana a weaver and time walker prepares to travel back to modern day.

The first part is in the early sleep and shallow. I am with the ex-wife. She wants to show me what is going on in the village. She insists that I go to see what has become of the village pubs. She is curious and very nosey. She wants all the gossip. Reluctantly I go with her and one of the pubs is under new management. He is trying to make a go of it. The pub is in a state of mess and undergoing renovation. A part of it is open for business. We go in and he asks what I want. I ask for a pint of Guiness and it takes long while to pour and settle. The ex-wife has a half of bitter and proceeds to go around chatting at/with everyone else in the pub. I ask the landlord about his plans.

We move off to the next pub. This is more lively and all the village folk some from out of town and some born are ostentatiously getting pissed  up. The air is of forced jollity, almost an anxious jollity. This pub is better lit. The locals all stare at me. Once again the ex-wife works the room talking to everyone and gossiping about life in the village and in general. I do not see the point of it in the dream. The pub is a mess and someone needs to do a glasses round and wipe down tables. There is a hint of Christmas party and the TV in the pub is blaring away in the background. It is harsh to the senses.

I awake for some poor TV, a pill and two lion bars.

Back now in the dream I am upstairs in a retreat centre type house. It is redbrick and old. On the other side of a single track road is a chest height red-brick and flint wall behind which is a substantial weir and mill race. The river is powerful and the water deep and of a green hue due to the weeds. I know the building I am in is aligned to the old water mill. It is a part of the complex. The feel is very similar  to Llangollen. The smell is similar too; we are near mountains. I am lying on the bed with the window open. The net curtains are blowing lightly in the breeze and I can hear the deep bass rumble of the water on the weir.

I hear a key in the door downstairs and in walks Paul and Emma. (Walker). They walk through into the kitchen and I can hear the keys being thrown into a small ceramic pot / ashtray. The pot is glazed agate green. I can hear Paul complaining to Emma about me. He complains how things can be messy after I have been and that although the mess is not mine it is in response to me that the chaos and mess ensues.  He is not happy about me being there and wants me to go. His unwelcome is widely held among many people. I do not do what they deem I ought to.

I come down stairs and Paul intuits that I have heard what he has been saying. He asks if I have heard.  I affirm. He says that there is no point pretending then. I say that I am not in the least bit upset. I have something to show him. In the kitchen are plates and cutlery unwashed. He looks at them with scorn. We all go out into a walled garden and to a stand-up wooden table in a “beer-garden” private to the property and which overlooks the weir.

I say to Paul that I possess a special rare type of magic. This he doubts as otherwise I would have used the magic to clean up. I say that this magic is not of a material kind, the kind for tricks and show. I say that my magic is a special kind of magic known by some as Soul magic. This magic is of a very slow effect. It is a slow Soul magic. He is sceptical.

I hold up my left hand and a brown hen’s egg appears in it. This catches his attention. It cracks and the top comes off. It is now like a soft boiled egg ready for eating in “dippy eggs”. I say to him that my magic, the deeper magic, pertains only to the Soul. It is not mundane. In the dream he understands that the egg is a metaphor for the Souls. I say that yes I can and do work directly with the Soul(s).

The dreaming view looks down at the soft yolky egg from above and then zooms out to a side view. A small amount of yolk has run down from the egg along my fingers and onto my white inner wrist. I say that even Soul magic is of two kinds, the magic of the Souls evolving through lifetimes and that of the spark within. True magic is about the creation and enveloping of the spark within a Soular casing, the egg of lives. The ultimate magic is about liberation in which the ovoid shell, the eggy casing of the Soul is rent and evaporates only to leave the spark within and thence throughout. Soul magic is about encapsulation and liberation. It is beyond the sight of most and not to the everyday taste.

As they watch the egg starts to dissolve shimmering into space with a shimmering of tiny golden insubstantial flecks. Leaving a tiny bright yellow-orange radiant spark or flame. Which is suspended above my fingers. Paul and Emma are temporarily transfixed. They come to with a jolt and all they can see is my upstretched left hand with fingers touching from where the egg once was. They can see a small trickle of bright yellow yolk against the white inner skin of my wrist.

The dream zooms out and looks directly into the depths of the water going over the mill race weir. I know that those prone to the chaos of the West struggle to see the beautiful order and patterns of time.

I come to and feel the stiffness in my hips and lower back…

Boring – Not Again…

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

As we were driving up to the supermarket I remarked to the wife that it is boring getting the same type of dream over and over. The themes of being gossiped about, checked up on, snooped upon and the jungle drums banging out long into the jungle night, recur.

The theme of people trying to be clever and cunning seems never to stop. Baldrick is perennially reaching for his famed planning turnip. The endless secret squirrel speculation and so-called “information gathering” keeps cropping up.

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Inspector Clouseau has a new case to work on at the Louvre so why are they still interested in me?

It is pretty simple.

“If you want to know, ask me!”

Asking the monkeys will not help. Try using a Clouseau voice…

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I know that there is a theory that if you put enough monkeys together with typewriters you will eventually get the works of Shakespeare. But that seems a rather indirect route.

I am not in any way flattered by the notion of people gossiping about me. I consider that to be bullying and very rude. I am not interested in political machinations. If a whole bunch of people are collectively doing things behind my back I am not only crippled but outnumbered. That is bullying nasty behaviour. It has an unpleasant stench and is pretty much evil. It is a bit sad and un-impeccable.

Same shit different day…

Shunning Ostracism & Excommunication – Historical Precedent

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I think it both accurate and fair to say that there is much historical precedent for the “human” practices of shunning ostracism  & excommunication. The practices may be official or unofficial, sanctioned by the hierarchy or simply via the social practices unspoken by “they”. Often the shunned is/are way ahead of their times, avantgarde or simply unwilling to submit and comply with some edict or other. Many who refuse to kowtow are ostracised. At the time the ostracism or excommunication is considered thoroughly justified. Imagined divine right is on the side of those doing the exclusions. The hindsight of years or decades looks back in disbelief. “Really? They did that?”

The shunners do not imagine for one moment that shunning is what they are doing, it does not even occur to them and is rarely overtly discussed. There is no thought or empathy for the shunned or ostracised.

“They are not us. We are right!”

Shunning ostracism & excommunication are cult like practices which continue to this day. The threat of these is used to coerce compliance. In Scientology one can even be declared “fair game”! The person ostracised and shunned is the subject of gossip and hearsay, in absentia. No prodigals are allowed.

Someone might read an article on say Galileo in the Inquisition and tut-tut, then talk of Martin Fleischmann or Ranga Dias. One is a hero the others not. If your reputation is tarnished it is very hard to get a research grant funded, the so called objectivity flies out the window. People are way more fickle than they are prepared to admit. Every church, including science, has some form of shunning practice.

Shunning ostracism & excommunication are tools of coercion and manipulation favoured by the status quo, used to assert power over. The fear of these can stifle any dissent. A church “elder” can claim it can prevent some god-fearing person from entering heaven. That is a manipulative mind-fuck of high order.

The historical precedents are extensive and these practises continue to this day, in churches, organisations, political parties, clubs and societies. They even occur in peer groups.

Humans are prone to repeat rather than learn from history. They keep the same old manipulation playbook, Grimoire, and use it over and over…

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Wolfgang – Switzerland – Being Slagged Off – Martial Arts Grading – UKE Dream 07-04-2025

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Here is last night’s dream. I was on much reduced medication to see how I coped. Sleep was not deep.

The dream starts in a communal office setting. Wolfgang {flat mate – and subsequent employee} is sat opposite me. He has a thin pencil moustache and something of a mullet, neither of which he was accustomed to have. He is upset with me because he thinks that I have been mean to him and reneged on our friendship. I have done no such thing to my eyes. I know in the dream that because I do not do transactional “friendships” I do not have “friends” in the traditional social sense. I am very poor at “normal” friendships. I do not do mutual praise and ego stroking. People cannot relate to me because they do not get the normal feedback they are expecting. I say to Wolfgang that he may have misjudged.

The scene now coalesces to the shared common room area of our floor in the University of Bern. Sat around the table are many of the people from the research group. Wolfgang says in front of them all, that they have all been slagging me off and bad mouthing me, partially because I did not fit in and suck up. He says that I was always the outsider. I say to him that it is in no way new to me to have people gossip and slag me off behind my back whilst pretending to be nice and friendly to my face. I say that people can be very mercenary when they think that I have something(s) they want. I say to him that he needs to get over it, his misplaced upset. I say that his moustache looks ridiculous.

The scene changes to a large martial arts dojo. I am dressed in a judogi wearing a dark green belt around my middle. I am with the sensei, and he is showing me a list of people who are up for their blue belt grading. In this schema, blue is below green. There are a lot of people due for grading and we, the higher grades, are to be uke to their tori. We know that gradings are about form and not real combat. We will be willingly thrown about by numerous people doing their gradings in order for them to learn.

I am up first with four people one from each direction. East, North, West and South.  The people are of ill-defined gender and wearing judogi already with a light blue belt, the colour of which they seek to upgrade. One by one they come to me and holding a fighting stance assume their left hand in an upper block, jodan-uke. I place my arm similarly wrist to wrist. We then start to apply force and ki. They are trying to hold their position. I let them match me for a while and continue to ramp up until I start to sense them falter. Knowing that this is not about me winning rather them having an experience, I ease back just before breaking point. I do this with the first three directions. The woman from the South has defined gender and when she comes up for stance there is no need, because we already understand each other.

I know that there are hundreds more to come in the grading session. On the mat practice continues and we know, the sensei and I, that they have never yet experienced full contact combat which is a game changer.

The dream ends.

Talking Behind Someone’s Back and Fait Accompli

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At the moment there is a bit of furore in the press that Trump et al. are taking with Putin et al. behind the backs of Ukraine, Europe and the UK. They are doing this in the Machiavellian home of Saud.

People seem not to like this yet they talk behind the backs of others on a regular basis. It is a play straight out of the forceful manipulation handbook / playbook, cobble together some cunning plan and then present it to the absentee(s) as a fait accompli. Should they not accept they are branded ungrateful and non-cooperative even if they have to bend over grab their ankles and take it up the arse without lubricant.

The praetorians always know what is best for the plebs. The plebs should thank their lucky stars.

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Behind closed doors cabals are not inclusive. They may pretend and profess to be, but that is bullshit.

These cabals are part of what is euphemistically termed “management practice”. The 1922 committee is an example of behind doors stitch up. I have been on the periphery of such behaviours and perhaps on the receiving end of fait accompli. It is a Don Corleone offer even without the nocturnal equine encouragement.

Wherever actual transparency as opposed to the public relations version of that is absent, gossip spreads faster than Covid 19 at a race meeting / piss up. I saw firsthand on Twitter / X how misinformation and BS spread faster than a Los Angeles wild fire blown by a warm breeze.

A forced “agreement” rarely has longevity. A contract based on gossip and hearsay lacks solid foundations.

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I have never myself appointed a spokesperson or port-parole so if any charlatan pretends to speak on my behalf, they are lying. If someone says behind closed doors that they know what I am after, what I might want / like they are delusional, mendacious and manipulative. Yet I could not stop anyone from casting themselves as such. People may speculate, that is at best inaccurate and at worst dangerous.

Many people are so sure that they know how to sort a situation out, how to bring it to a close. Such premature omniscience is rarely able to hold back adamant opinion. It rarely occurs to these that they may be wrong. One cannot change the view of an adamant dogmatic by persuasion.

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Do you talk behind people’s back?

Do you make cunning plans without inclusive consultation?

Are you a Trump mini-me?

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Tibet / Nepal / Katmandu – Being Shot – .99 Calibre Dream 02-08-2018

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I am waiting at a train station to get a train up to the top of a mountain in darkness. The idea is to get the train up during the night and then walk down as darkness yields to dawn. The train station has an “Indian-Asian” flavour but is old school. There is a lot of hustle and bustle. The word comes that at last the train is ready. We all board the train and it chugs off, windows open, up the mountain. We are at sea level and the mountain train stop is at 3600m.

When we get there to the top it is like Nepal / Katmandu / Tibet. There are many “hippie” tourists here and what “we” are about to do is a part of THE “trail”. In my mind I wonder if I will be recognised by people at the top.

“We” set off down the hill past a small blue lake where there are Buddhist monks meditating and they bless us as is their custom. We continue on the trail down the hill as darkness continues to fade and dawn comes in. It is a long hike down.

Next, I am with a tall thin blonde woman with curly hair whom I do not recognise. We are in “Katmandu” or a town like it with many tourist “hippie” shops and hawkers. One of these latches on to the woman and I try to dissuade him. He draws a knife as if to attack. I disarm him and he runs off very displeased and very angry with me.

Sometime later the “air-raid” siren goes off and people are sheltering. I find myself a niche in the stone and lay down with my bag over my head. I remove this as there does not seem to be any attack. The man from earlier is now standing over me with a pistol. He shoots me in the left leg which stings a great deal. He says that he might kill me. I start to ask him why and move to get up. He shoots me again lower down my leg. I cry out for help. The police come running and he runs off. The “Indian” policeman says that I have been shot twice with a .99 calibre weapon.

Strangely despite this I am able to walk / limp.

Later the man finds me again and asks me if the blonde woman is my fiancée. I say that we have never met. He intimates that he will get even with me by getting at her. I tell him that before “yesterday” I had never met the woman.

He is doing a drug deal and wants me to skin up with his hashish. I attempt this but fail. The police then come and he runs off. His idea was that I am caught in possession of hashish. I throw this down a street drain. The police are not concerned about me rather the man who set me up.

“Wolfgang” is there and we are discussing how thing are very different at 3600m. He says, as he has done previously, that people are and have been gossiping about me.

Outside of town the lake has now frozen. The idea now is to ski down the mountain. Given my injured leg I am unsure about this. So, I try to ski / skate on the frozen lake which is covered in snow. I can do this easily. I am able to make turns on the ski-skate rink which in the dream I find highly enjoyable shouting, “Yaaaay”….

I wake up and the dream ends.

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* 9 is the jewel of awareness completion

3 + 6 = 9

9 + 9 =18

18 is the jewel of awareness courage.

Raman Spectroscopy – Lost Marbles – Dream 02-08-2024

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In no way did I think about any of these individuals during the day. I have not met any of them in person for nearly two decades and in two cases more than that.

I am in some kind of office / seminar room taking with AP. He wants to know why I am there. I say that I am following up on an ex-student of mine and how things are going with the Raman spectroscopy.  Tony says that they have switched him to a rig with a CW laser of lower power which will mean longer acquisition time. I say he will just have to count for longer.

In walks DP, my Ph.D. supervisor. He seems a little anxious. He says that he would like to have a frank conversation with me. I say that I am fine with that. He comments that “they” thought I had completely lost the plot, lost my marbles and gone off the rails. I say that I always note that the collective noun for a group of academics is a gossip of academics.

He reiterates that they thought I was psychologically ill.

 I say, “And you did nothing?”

He says that they were nervous and did not know how to handle the situation.

I say that that was a bit shit and demonstrated a very low level of courage and poor interpersonal skills. It was a bit pathetic and all Basil Fawlty.

He says that they thought I had gone a bit pikey.

I gesture with my right hand at my immaculate suit and shiny black leather shoes. I point at my oxford button down collar shirt and neat tie. I can see that this does not fit his perception.

I walk out of the room and head out of campus onto Exhibition Road. I light up a cigarette whilst at the edge of campus. A security guard admonishes me. I mentally give him the finger.

I walk down towards the tube and after I have finished the cigarette I walk into the foyer of the science museum.

There is a pair of light blue handled aluminium walking sticks available for use and I use these to help with my arthritis. As I walk deeper into the building I bang into RC. He clearly recognises me and searches for a name.

“Martin?”

“No, I was in you tutor group at UCL about 400 years ago.”

“Alan, how are you?”

He shakes my hand effusively and greets me warmly. I say that I am fine.

He thanks me for finding Barony Castle which they have used as a venue ever since. Just as they are renting space from the science museum now.

I move on into a library at the back. Still using the walking sticks only I am carrying one and using the other. As I walk into the library, I see LB hosting a seminar. She recognises me but does not acknowledge. I go to the back and then leave. As I am leaving, I brush past DK who does not recognise me until I am well past the now closed door.

Dream ends.

Incredulity Rumours Not Believed nor Listened to in Dreams since 2008

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In my dreams a common theme cropping up in five of my typed up dreams is that people cannot believe what has happened to me, nor accept it as real. It is for them a massive non sequitur that I should find myself where I actually am doing what I actually do. They cannot believe that I am interested in the things that I am and that I metaphorically fell off the edge of their world.

They are incredulous to the point of denial.

In three other of these dreams, rumours {and implied gossip} are being circulated by people once close to me. These rumours are believed even though they are wildly inaccurate bordering on slander or defamation.

I am warned in five other dreams that no matter what I say or do people simply will not believe what it is I am saying and doing. The notion is that to try to get people to believe is to smack my head against a brick wall.

People are more willing to believe rumour than me.

Further in three other dreams I offer advice or knowledge and in no way am I or will I be listened to. The message is that it is tending towards {utter} futility to even try.

The subsequent post {“previous” according to wordpress} in the blog roll is an example of this disbelief theme.