Tag: Key

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…

Number 32 – Real Life – Dream 09-11-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. It pertains, perhaps, to a situation we have been mulling over in “real” life. We have been looking into a “where” for the needed downsize of accommodation. In a sense we have been waiting for some guidance from dreams.

The dream opens in a corridor of very large building filled with flats, apartments. We are on a mid to upper floor with grey hard wearing carpet. In front of us is a white painted panelled wooden door with a round knob handle at waist height. It is modern. On it are the numbers 3 and 2, 32. It is flat 32. I approach the door and push it gently. It opens and we go inside. The flat is modern and painted mostly white. There is a mirror and small table in the hall, together with a coat stand. We explore and see a good sized lounge, a kitchen, a dining room with small balcony which looks out over the red-brick exterior of the building and grounds. The building is like Royal Holloway founder’s building only with more floors.

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–

As we are exploring we hear a key in the lock and in walk a younger couple. The woman is tall, similar to Amy from “The Big Bang Theory” her partner is smaller and skinny like a cyclist. She is in charge. They are unsurprised to see us as the apartment is having viewings in order to sell it. They ask us what we think. We say that it is nice but need to understand the building better.

The woman says that they are thinking of moving near Cardiff for her job but that accommodation in Cardiff itself is a bit pricey. I explain that we have explored there to. The basic story is that if you go north of the M4 the price drops and if you go up into valleys it gets lower reflecting both the travel time and the neighbourhood. I say that I personally am quite keen on The Vale of Glamorgan. She says thank you for the pointers. They say that they don’t fit in here because of their age.They are too young. We leave the flat and go into the corridor.

In the dream I note that the number is 32 and know this to be a dark jewel one that I am unfamiliar with to the extent that I cannot recall what it is. I resolve to look it up on waking. I wonder in the dream {and now writing} why the dark jewel 32 {disharmony} is highlighted.

We exit the building and stand back in the grounds. It looks imposing like the Celtic Manor resort near Newport, though internally more complex as above.

We walk up towards the main entrance which is a staircase over a moat like structure and enter the main atrium. It is high ceilinged and has reddish pub carpet and wood panelling. In the back we can see a canteen come restaurant operating. We can smell food. It has a flavour of school dinners / Oxford college catering. There are “cloches” over some of the plates. We go up to inspect the menu / price list. The food is all “English” and I note bland. It is reasonably priced.

We explore a little further and come upon another large space in which there is a meeting to one side. The wife sits down to listen in. It is a “University of the Third Age” type presentation. The audience is all our age or older. They are more expensively dressed than us and largely English.

I go to sit in a bar like area with sofas and tables. There are several “posh old bird” women there with drinks and dogs. The smell of intense perfume pervades. A female lurcher dog comes to explore me and sits with her paws on my foot and her head just above my lap. She is wanting attention. She has decided on me. She sits immobile.

To one side there is a “hunting – country” woman with a fluffy Lassie long haired collie. She comments that I have made a friend. She is being flirty with me. She gets up and her friend who owns the lurcher joins her. They head off to the lifts. It takes some coercion with dog treats to get the lurcher to leave me.

Exploring further we come upon a residents action group where a bunch of people, residents of the building, are up in arms about something. We see that the social life of the building is very active and lively. There are piss ups and dances.

We go to the activities notice board and see that you can get self-drive boats to go down the river to the weir and back. Ther are fishing rights in the river which flows under the moat. It is all a bit “Thursday Murder Club”.

The flat was nice enough.

The dream ends and I remain largely puzzled as why 32 should make an appearance. On writing I do not personally feel any sense of disharmony with our life and our surroundings.

Pierro – Miscommunication – Light Through Darkness – Lost Car Dream – 23-07-2025

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Here is last night’s dream.

The dream starts in a very urban setting, next to a large river which is brackish and tidal. There is a very large pub on multiple levels which backs onto the river. It has a feel of a Dickensian smugglers’ pub on the banks of a foggy Thames. The wife and I meet Pierro there on the land side off a normal road. We go inside.

The scene changes and I am now entering the lower levels of the pub from the sea side through a rarely used entrance off the “beach”. I work my way up through the pub looking for Pierro and the wife. Some of the rooms are busy some are not. The pub is very big with many rooms and many bars. In one the barman hands me a half-pewter tankard filled with porter a type of dark beer. Carrying this I continue searching through the pub. I walk through an office drinks party in one bar and a pre-wedding piss up in another. I find them in a wooden bar with benched wooden seating.

I again greet Pierro. He says that he has someone he wants me to meet. They are his cousins from America. He introduces four men who are a bit like the “Deliverance” hill-billies. They are roughly dressed and with poor teeth. They are unwashed and smelly. One of them has fingernails like dog claws. Another has a lazy eye and is wearing a lopsided straw hat. They are all tall, well over six feet and on the skinny side. They look out of place in the urban setting.

I start to speak with them in English, but they respond in French with a very strong creole or patois accent, that is very thick and difficult to understand. It could be Canadian American Indian French or from the deep south of the USA. It is very hard to understand. I speak with them in my attempts at French. It is clear to see that we are having massive, huge, trouble communicating. Communication is very poor between us.

The scene changes to a different urban setting. There are tall dark red brick buildings a bit like those near Kensington High Street and a bit reminiscent of Manchester. There are thin several storey tall, terraced houses and office like accommodation. I am there for a rock concert. Perhaps by Oasis. There is on street car parking with old style parking meters. I pick up my key from reception and go to find the house which I have been allocated, which I am renting. I go inside and dump my bags. I then leave and lock up putting the keys in my pocket. I look at the number on the door so that I can find it amidst all the very similar looking buildings. I can see the number 1347 in large white screw-on numbering. In the dream I think it odd that the house has such a high number.

I then set off to look for my car having forgotten exactly where I parked it. I know that I parked it near here because I used intuition to find then ticket office. I am looking for my old navy-blue Ford Fiesta. I look up and down the streets, down back alleys, in car parks above and below ground. I cannot find the car but am not concerned because it is my old car which I sold many years ago.

The dream ends.

As I am coming to, I note that the dream is about 15 both because of the house number and Pierro. It is about light through or from darkness. I note that this dream is a dreaming symbol dream.

15 is the jewel of awareness light thorugh darkness.

Train Journeys – Freak Show – Dream 18-05-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream which I had difficulty naming. To note – travel tends to interrupt the dreaming, and we are not long back from Jersey. Trains re-present a socially conditioned state of awareness in that you are complied by the tracks.

The dream starts on a very long French train with a modern looking white/grey aerodynamic locomotive. The train is extensive. We are stopped in the middle of the countryside for no apparent reason. There is no station or level crossing. Just to the side of the tracks and underneath it there is a municipal child’s playground, fenced off at the edge of a camping ground. A road leads via a tunnel under the tracks which are on an embankment.

Several children are playing in the park. They are accompanied by a man wearing a Freddy Krueger style hat and striped Denis the Menace red and black jumper. He also has a white formed facial mask. The wife goes down to investigate and play with the children. The man is rude to her in French and leads the children off. I can see that he has a large, near machete style knife dangling from his belt.

The wife comes back to the train mildly upset. I say what did you expect from the look of him with that horror mask. As she does this, looking upset, I take from my pocket a white tissue in which is the point of the blade from the man’s knife. I have broken it off at a distance and it has shattered into my tissue. I have disarmed him. I throw the contents of my tissue into a rubbish bin, and it makes a metallic clatter.

We then proceed towards the baggage handling car. The train is now moving towards Caen – Ouistreham a destination which we did not book, nor do we have a need to be there. In the baggage car there is a conveyor belt, like baggage reclaim in an airport. A couple, a woman and her husband, start to talk with us in English. They are not “all there” and are making no sense. They split up and head to opposite ends of the train.

Next a being walks into the car. It is a tall female with long dark hair roughly our age dressed in a long green dress. Out of her stomach protrudes the head and shoulders of a balding middle-aged man with a partial comb over. His complexion is ruddy. She is looking one way and he the other. She starts talking to us and he gesticulates with arms that are now visible. They look conjoined and not really of this world. We look on and they exit. We can see that there is a large vintage bustle to her dress as she leaves. The wife and I turn to each other and think/know the words “freak show”.

There is now an officious woman belonging to the train company who insists that we must book through her to get the best deal. I say to her that this is exactly what we tried and have ended up being on entirely the wrong train. The next time we will book through an online broker. She is insistent that we MUST book through her. I think to myself that she has no idea and there is no way I will use her again.

The train pulls up and we exit it. Our mobile home / truck is sat at a weighbridge before boarding. A man is heading at speed with a key to try to unlock a locker behind the driver’s cab. I know that he cannot possibly unlock it but that nevertheless I must beat him to the locker because it is extraordinarily dangerous for him to even try to unlock what he does not know, to open something he does not understand. He is in very deep peril especially if he gets there before me. I hasten to the mobile home and taking a key on the end of a chain around the neck, I insert it into the lock just as the man approaches. He looks disheartened. I do not turn the key simply stand there warding off. Under no circumstance should he try.

Next, I am at a country crossroads in which there is a level crossing barrier across railway tracks. The “road” is dusty and without tarmac. Several of us are stood at the barrier. A train is being pulled by a royal blue steam locomotive it approaches and passes. It is pulling high class vintage pullman carriages with people in period costume inside. The steam train is magnificent. I did not know they had such things still. The train passes and people lift the barrier manually. We are clearly in rural India. There are people with large cattle like animals now crossing the tracks.

I pick up a stick on the end of which Dick Wittington style is a piece of cloth containing my belongings and clothes. I am bare-footed and wearing loose blue cotton trousers. My feet are tanned and accustomed to walking bare foot. I start to walk along the tracks standing on the wooden cross boards. Two young Indian men are whispering. They are going to follow me and attempt to rob me. I know this. They are conspiring. They do not know how long or how fast I can walk. I say to them, “If you want to try to rob me, please feel free to try!”

The dream ends.

Lightning Tree – Rainbow – Karmapa – I Ching – Windhorses – Nagarjuna Dream – 05-05-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream / vision.

The dream starts with a view of a large, gnarled tree with many visible roots. The tree is effectively dead with no foliage or growth. I know it to be a bodhi tree which has been struck by lightning.

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The tree is in the middle of a temple / monastery courtyard. It is in a square shaped flowerbed sectioned off with stones. The courtyard is very foot worn. Around the edge is a quasi-covered walk way on all four sides. There is one entrance and one exit corridor. The feel is very Tibetan / Himalayan. This tree has lain dormant ever since it was struck by lightning, by a thunderbolt, dorje. There is sun on the tree and despite its state it is tended and looked after.

This morning a young novice monk to whom the job has fallen is weeding and watering the tree. He notices significant new growth which has appeared overnight. There is growth on some of the roots and higher up in the tree. That growth has been caused by me and my arrival on the planet. The young monk is very excited and runs to find someone to tell. Soon there are a few monks there looking and chattering excitedly. They look up to the sky and to the South they can see a rainbow just below the clouds. The rainbow is feint but persistent. There is much excitement, which increases.

I wake up for a loo break it is 4:30 AM.

In between sleep and wake, I become very aware of the 17th Gyalwa Karmapa in my full visual and mental field. It is as if we are some how joined twinned or connected. The feeling is guttural. They have started some kind of pre-dawn / dawn ritual in honour of the Parinirvana of Siddhartha. They are in a planetary sense to the East of me. There is chanting and those awful horns. I can hear and feel the ritual as if I am there in the hall with them. The visual image of the 17th persists and it is even here slightly as I type. It is clear that something is up / happening. I wonder if the Dalai Lama is dying but search for him and can still find the feeling of him, so am reassured. The ritual goes on and I know in one sense it is connected with me.

I drift off.

I am shown D whom I knew ~ 20 years ago. He is bloated and unwell. He is filled with anger and even hatred towards me. I can see his bloated bare stomach upon which are written the positions by number of each of the 64 I Ching hexagram numbers. They are medical points. I know that he has misused Dao and that he has been taught dark Dao and it has taken seed in him and others. The only chance that they have is to use the I Ching medically to reverse and impede the spread of bad-Dao. I am the key.

The scene changes and I am in the garden outside my office here. I can hear some noises up by the purple rhododendron. Out of sight I can hear munching. I catch sight of a grey spotted foal and her mother a dark brown horse. So as not to scare them I move very quietly. I know they are windhorses or lungta. They jump up and run along the top of our hedges down towards the river. The foal stops and takes a snack on the maple. As they approach the river they are joined by two more white adult horses. Together all four of them ride off along the tops of the French oaks by the river. They are not touching the oaks but flying and galloping in the air.

I am now in communication with some being which says that I am of Nāgārjuna with the j being specific. That I am of the nāgas and nāgarājas.  That is my source and my belonging. I am of Nāgārjuna. The role of the nāgas is not yet understood.

The dream ends.

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Notes:

Nāgārjuna (Sanskrit: नागार्जुन, Nāgārjuna; c. 150 – c. 250 CE) was an Indian monk and Mahāyāna Buddhist philosopher of the Madhyamaka (Centrism, Middle Way) school. He is widely considered one of the most important Buddhist philosophers.

Nāgārjuna is widely considered to be the founder of the Madhyamaka school of Buddhist philosophy and a defender of the Mahāyāna movement. His Mūlamadhyamakakārikā (Root Verses on Madhyamaka, MMK) is the most important text on the Madhyamaka philosophy of emptiness. The MMK inspired a large number of commentaries in Sanskrit, Chinese, Tibetan, Korean and Japanese and continues to be studied today.

From Wikipedia

X-rays – Whales – Water – West Wales – Catherine – Lens – Gig – Tibet Dream 02-05-2025

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For the first time in over three months, I slept through to 4:30 AM. I was very surprised when I checked the clock on going to the bathroom. Here is a sequence of dreams / snippets.

The dream starts with me walking in multiple magnolia-coloured corridors carrying A4 x-ray images of my hips and knees. I am going back and forth and talking with various elements of the medical profession. There is something in these films which they have never seen before, implied something inside me, unique.

I am now in an ultra-modern house high on a hillside overlooking a sound, an inlet, from the coast. The feeling is of a damp pacific northwest America, as per the early Twilight films. There is forest and rain, Vancouver or Seattle. There is water in the air. There is a huge floor to ceiling glass window looking out to the sound below, there are droplets on the glass. I am close almost pressed to the window. It is my invalid home, for recovery.  Far below in the sound I can see whales swimming in a V formation. They are the same black and white non-orca whales from the dream before. My relationship is totemic. As they swim up the fjord inland there is one lead and two on each side of the V. I count thirteen whales in total. It is as if I am swimming behind the lead whale protected by the pod.

I am now at the waterside of the sound. Despite the northerly latitude I enter the water to swim. I can see my dive partner from Sharm El-Sheikh. She is young and attractive as she was then. She is dressed in a green bikini and somehow mostly above water. I swim towards her fully immersed in the cold water completely at home.

The scene changes and I am with my wife and Ashley. We are sitting on the front seat of a right-hand drive minibus. It is one of those continuous bench seats. It is getting towards night and dusky. Ashley is driving, she is in the middle, and I am on the left. In front of the steering wheel behind the dashboard there is a huge mess in front of Ashley, which contrasts to the space in front of us. Now dark we drive down a lane. It is deep in rural West Wales, not too far from the sea. The roads are windy. Ashley pulls up in front of a property and asks, “is this it?”

“Yes”.

He gets out and goes to open the door with a key. It unlocks but the door does not open. I get out and look at the very sophisticated modern locking mechanism. He does not know what is the other side of the door in this rather nondescript building, I do. I pull a key out of my right trousers pocket. It is at the end of a chain attached to one of the belt hooks. The key is golden and slightly shimmering.  I go to the door and with ease undo the mortice. The door starts to open, and a radiant light spills out of the doorway, through the small gap between door and lintel. In contrast to Ashley neither the wife nor I are surprised.

The next part of the dream starts with a strong visual image of Catherine Middleton. She is a bit thin and wearing only a long T-shirt. She wants me to look at her body which I do. I can see her small breasts and the scar from her operation on her abdomen. She feels frail yet determined. In the dream she wants me to have sex with her, which I know is not sex but cooperation. She wants to talk with me about George in particular. Something is bothering her, and she can’t let it go. She needs an explanation different from those she has already had. I comment that I would be happy to try to help.

The setting now changes to the English West Country, Devon, Somerset or Cornwall. Inland, I am due to run a large course at a conference facility. It is due to start in the afternoon, and the preparations are ok. There are people handling the arrivals. I have a team assembled.

Driving the minibus from before I pull up in a layby by a series of beachy coves. I get out and put my belongings in a black plastic workman’s bucket with a handle and head down to the beach with the bucket. I put the bucket on the beach. I enter the water and swim like I used to be able. I swim along shore and in and out of the little coves. I note that there is a strong current running along the shore in the direction of where I started. I decide to part body-surf the current back. Others are doing this too. When I get back to the beach my bucket is gone. It has my ‘phone and documents in. Sat on the decking of a beachfront bar at an outside table is a couple of American men. They are being loud. I can see the bucket with them. I go up to them and say that I need the contents of the bucket. They joke a little, but I insist it is very important because I have a gig to do soon. I look in the bucket and find what I am looking for. It is a small ~1cm diameter bi-convex lens in what looks like a slightly leaden glass. I hold it up to my eye between my left index finger and thumb. “This I what I was looking for!” They look non-plussed. I need to hurry back for the course I am due to give.

 I move on and am back in the van. I am calling to check something for the course. The call goes through to a public pay phone, US style attached to a telegraph pole outside of the modern pacific house from earlier. I can see the ‘phone ringing from where I am sat. The pay phone is quite fancy. Nobody answers. I try again and somebody answers the phone, but it is now not the pacific phone.

I am saying hello etc. There is no response. The phone start to crackle and a female voice asks me if I am who I am using my name and the prefix dr. I say yes. She says that she is Mrs. Andersen and is due on my course. She apologizes that she will not be able to make it. I ask why. She says that she is in the middle of Tibet. She is making a journey from East to West and that it is taking longer than expected. I say to her that it is fine and a very good explanation as to why she will not be attending. We both laugh a little. Life is strange.

The dream ends.

Bridge – Posh House – Special Needs -Cooking – Dead Drop – Filing Cabinet Dream 02-02-2025

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The first part of the dream was had between 6 and 6:31 AM this morning. I then went back into the dream.

The dream opens with me driving down a bitumen private country road on an estate towards a bridge over a fair sized river, tens of metres across. There has been recent flooding. I drive onto the bridge and see that the far side of it has been eroded. Nevertheless, I can drive off the bridge and continue on. I am less sure about the return journey. I pull up on to a large, gravelled parking area in front of a large house / mansion. It is quintessentially English and similar to that of one of my prior tutees. The sense is that I have come here on a similar purpose of teaching.

I knock and enter and am welcomed by a man of similar age to me dressed in tweeds. He ushers me in and inquires about the journey. I mention the bridge. He says that the lads are working on a lash up. He shows me into a lounge like area and we are joined by his wife a younger woman with dark hair. It is obvious that they are both upper class, she in particular. Their accents are clipped.

We make our way out. At the side of hallway there is a white computer screen upon which are cartoons portraying the weather of the day in some detail. I comment that it is a nice simple touch. They look at each other in a light hearted conspiratorial manner.

We go to inspect the bridge. I can see that it will be difficult to get my car back on the bridge. In the dream I know that it will be easy for me to pick it up by hand and place it onto the bridge, even though it is a normal sized normal car.

The lads are sailing a barge downstream towards the bridge. It has a military style pontoon bridge on it. They anchor and secure the pontoon in place. I get onto the pontoon with them and lift a car which is already on the pontoon off onto dry land. I can and do drive my car over the pontoon and park up the other side.

I am now sat at table with the woman and her two sons We are in the orangery and the youngest son is serving us a curry from a deep sided old style metal mass catering serving tray. It has handles which are lose and held to the tray with rivets. The meal is good. He asks if I need some more spices to thicken the sauce. He offers me a small plate upon which are turmeric, cumin and garam masala. I say that the curry is just fine as it is, lovely. The mother is delighted. She is wearing blue jeans and an expensive pink jumper.  I say that I like things simple. They all look at each other. I say, “you lot as a family have got something weird going on about simple.” They all smile.

The older brother is doing very well in school but the younger one is seen as a bit odd. He has some special needs. I say to them that when I was a little older than the younger lad, I used to do a lot of the cooking for the family. The younger teenager says that he does too. There is a peculiar instant sense of bonding between us.

I wake up and go to the loo. The wife says that I have been kicking about.

I try to return to the dream.

I am back at table in the orangery. The woman is sat where she was previously but her jeans are unzipped to reveal light pastel blue underwear. I am not sure what this means. What has transpired, what she wants. It then dawns on me that she is indicating that both the boys came out of her.

The younger boy then takes me by the hand and leads me out of the orangery and into a walled garden. The walls are made of very red bricks and the garden is where chef grows his herbs and vegetables. The younger lad is a friend of the chef.

He takes me behind a small green house and eases a stone out of the wall. It is like a cold war dead drop. In the cavity there is a white piece of paper which at first looks to have nothing on it. The lad puts the brick back and unfolds the paper upon which is a map of sorts sketched by hand.

The lad leads me from the walled garden into the basement kitchen and thence to a basement room. He turns on the fluorescent light overhead. The stark lighting reveals a number of filing cabinets. He shows me one in olive-khaki green. The drawers have handwritten labels which have yellowed with age. The writing has been done with a fountain pen is a sloped script which I know to be that of a female. There is a locking bar down the face of the cabinet. At the bottom the padlock has been removed by the lad. He shows me it. Implicit is that the key is in his trouser pocket. There is a sense that this archive dates back to the second world war and that nobody knows what to do with it nor can they decipher it. It has been in the safe keeping of his family.

The dream ends.

Chameleon – Fire – Keys -Butterfly – Cousins Dream 11-12-2024

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

This dream was between 4:55 AM and 6:30 AM it is followed by a less dreamy attempt to rejoin the dream.

The dream is set outdoors on some kind of patio. In front of me is a raised fire pit. It is made out of fired clay and is light terracotta in colour. The pit is a kind of hand-made grate with a quasi-oval ring of clay supported on pillars of clay about a foot tall. The idea is that there is great air circulation into the fire pit.

On the floor next to the pit is a large chameleon lizard. It is sandy-brown and about the size of my foot. I pick the lizard up lovingly with my hand and it comes willingly. I place the lizard in one side of the fire pit and it lies snug against the wall altering its colour slightly to blend in.

On the other side of the pit, I make a fire with pieces of wood. The fire blazes too quickly. I add more larger pieces of wood. The fire stabilizes and burns more quietly. The chameleon is unharmed.

In the fire pit I notice an old style wrap around key fob in brown leather. I cannot see if there are any keys in the fob or not. I pick the fob out of the pit and put it in my pocket. It feels heavy.

–

–

I continue to look at the fire and tend it.

My eyes are drawn to my right hand. I can see a black suit jacket sleeve with several buttons. Inside the sleeve is a buttoned white dress shirt. Both are incredibly crisp and well ironed. Out of the gap between shirt and jacket I extract, by encouragement with my left hand, a large hand sized pale yellow butterfly. The wings are in two segments so that you can see four segments. Its appearance is like a magic trick and there are flecks of gold in the yellow. It flies out of the sleeve and circles me several times

–

–

The butterfly flies off.

In one corner of the patio, I see two young women. One of them is light brown with a black Muslim head scarf. She is dressed in black. The other one is wearing white and is of European extraction.

The brown one asks me if I recognise them. She is flirty and cheeky.

No.

She says that they are my cousins and that she knows me. She says that I should have recognised them from Wales. We are related through Cristiaan’s wife from South Africa. She has a mild Afrikaans accent.

–

I wake and the wife tells me it is 6:30 AM when she gets back into bed.

–

I intend to rejoin the dream. I enter a sports hall wearing my bright red WRU t-shirt. As I do so the man running the gym says that Wales are not doing so well at rugby. I agree. I go into the bathroom to piss. I am in a cubicle and note that it opens out from the male changing room into the female one. I change cubicles. When I am finished, I wash my hands ritually.

Outside in the corridor I am seized by several men who have their hands on my arms. They are trying to pull me away and drag me with them. I use Ki to prevent them from shifting me. D is watching and he can see from my mudra-like hand positions that they have no chance of getting me to budge no matter how much effort they expend.

The scene changes and I am outside around a campfire with some middle aged women. They have asked me to cook my famous chicken and fish casserole for them. Despite this request they keep interfering with the way in which I am preparing the casserole. They keep trying to tell me what to do. I pick up a large slice of bacon which I tear with my bare hands to add flavour to the oil. They look shocked that I have used my bare hands. I explain that I washed them thoroughly earlier.

Dream ends.

Isabella – Manipulation – Attack Dreams 31-11-21

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here are last nights dreams they are separated by an interlude of being awake.

The first dream is set in London, somewhere close to the centre. In the room next door to me there is a panel of science academics sat around the table. They are going over applicants for a job as a University Physics lecturer. There are more than seven of the academics. The room in which they are seated is grand as is the table and chairs. They are a mix of men and women the men are wearing suits and the women are smartly dressed. It is all very English. They are all my age or older.

They call me in from the next room and say that they want to offer me the job. This surprises me somewhat because I have not applied for it. They say that the salary is £30,000. That sounds very low to me for a university in London. In the dream I note that 30 is the dreaming symbol for manipulation. They say the reason that the salary is small is that the job comes with an apartment as part of the salary. Where is the apartment? It is in central London near Down street which I know to be near Downing Street. I ask is there any previous coursework. They hand me a folder of lecture notes which I skim through, and it does not look too tricky. I think that I can do this job.

They say that they will get the previous incumbent to show me the flat in central London. I am introduced to Isabella who is a talk dark haired Mediterranean women about twenty years younger than me. Her hair is long, and she has a flowing black skirt and dangly silver earrings. She leads me off to Down street. When we get there the normal passenger lift is broken so we have to go around the back to use the big goods lift.  We get in and she hands me a large old-style key of steel. Which I put in my left trousers pocket. She says that she lost the job because they did not like her blog content. I say that she should perhaps read my blog.

She and I stand facing one door. I turn and look into her eyes. They morph into swirling spiral flames for a second. She is unsure if I have noted this. Several other people mostly young men get into the lift. One of the men, a muscular eastern European, puts his hand on my shoulder. I brush this off. The lift doors close and we start to move upwards. Halfway to the flat the Eastern European man stops the lift and opens the double doors. He then proceeds to jump out of the lift onto the car park several floors below. After him three waves of young men also jump out of the lift. Some land safely, others pick up minor injuries and a couple die. Isabella and I look down at the carnage, close the door and proceed to the flat.

I know it is late and that my flatmates in North London won’t be able to get in because I have the key to that flat as well. I take the key out and open the door. I step into an ornate hallway. The man from the lift is there and he says that I owe him money to get out of the contract. He reckons that I owe him £100. I say that I do not. He says that he will not let me go until I pay him or join him. He pulls out a knife and asks if I have ever played stabby stabby. No. He then tries to attack me and stab me with the knife which he is holding in his right hand. He is a lot younger and fitter than me. I catch the top of his hand and apply kote gaeshi {an Aikido wrist lock /throw.}. Which sends him swirling through the air and leaves me with the knife in my right hand. I go over to the window and throw the knife out.

–

–

He continues to attack me bare handed. I wrestle him to the floor despite the fact that he is fitter and stronger than me. Using my favourite Judo choke hold I choke him out and he becomes unconscious.

I awake briefly, exchange a few words with the wife and fall back to sleep.

The wife and I are staying at a cliff side villa near an azure blue sea. At the end of the garden is a path out to a ledge in the cliff side. It is just wide enough to sunbathe on parallel to the cliff. The wife and I venture out onto this cliff. I sit down and she lies down. I have a small fishing rod and cast out a bait into the azure blue sea some 20-30 metre below. I can see that some fish are interested in my bait. Some have a nibble; another fish pops its head out of the water and looks me directly in the eye. Soon the bait is gone. I go back into the villa and the wife moves to where I was seated. In the refrigerator I find some snacks which are yet to be cooked. They comprise some beef mince and some cheese in a sort of meat ball. I bait my hook and leave the baited hook and fishing line on the grass in the garden. I go back inside for a glass of milk. When I come out some wasps or bees are on the bait and are dragging the fishing rod around the garden. I call the wife to see this phenomenon. She comes off the cliff edge and watches too. She is alarmed by this.

We move away from the wasps, and she finds a part of a dream catcher on the floor. She picks this up and reunites it with the other part which is hanging from a eucalyptus tree. We explore the garden and find a small statuette of a witch with “traditional” pointy hat. It is about one foot tall. I pick it up and suddenly it morphs into a full-sized woman dressed entirely in black with a full black flowing skirt. I know this witch to be Isabella. She is trying to embrace me to that she can do some evil to me. She follows me around the garden, appearing to fly. She has a series of hat pins in her hat. I snatch one of these hat pins and as she flies at me one more time, I make it grow in size. I then impale her directly through her heart so that she is fixed by the pin to a tree in the garden. I know that she is done for and resolve to do some protection “work” on waking,

Dream ends.

* Yesterday the plumber alerted us to some Asiatic Wasps close to the house.