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