magic – Page 2 – Dreamyoga

Dream 1-3-12 Japan Theme (Golden Dragon)

The dream is set initially in Tokyo. I have arrived at Narita and have been met by Mieko (an Ainu ex-business partner). We are in a district that I do not know. It is a shopping district. There are a couple of people with me and her. We are on a bus and it is swerving sharply around corners. We walk through the busy shopping mall and to a coffee bar.

Mieko orders coffees for us and we stand up at the bar. There is a lot of movement. I ask her if it is OK to smoke. No not anymore, the rules in Japan have changed.

At one table there is a group of westerner’s who are media types. They are all expensively dressed. One of them is making a rather overblown pitch to the others about an idea for a film. His language and gestures for the pitch are rather extravagant. Noticing that there are cigarette butts on the floor, I light one up. I catch the eye of a female gaijin sat close to the bar. She has a pack of gold Benson and Hedges and a lighter on the table in front of her. We raise our eyebrows exchanging a knowing look of “Bull….” , at the pitch we are eavesdropping on. I have no idea why Mieko has brought me to Japan.

We then move off through the crowded streets and malls. Mieko moves ahead of us and we lose sight of her. I have no idea where we are. I assume that she has made provision for where we are to stay that night. I do not have any written contact details for her.

The friend who is with me suggests that I look on my mobile ‘phone. I see that I have one call listed. I press dial. It connects with a man called Richard Brooks. I ask him who he is, “Richard Brooks the publisher, don’t you know me? “

I tell him that I have just landed in Tokyo and have jet lag, I cannot recall having met him, probably the jet lag. He is pretty sure that we have met. We are due to have a meeting in respect of publishing in the next day or so at the Hampton Estate Complex. He is looking forward to it.

I look again at my ‘phone and find Mieko’s number. I call her and she says that she has no interest in being a negotiating pawn on my chess board and is upset with me. I have absolutely no idea what she is talking about. Apparently, she has set me up to meet with two publishers in a few days time. I explain that I did not know about this nor why she is upset. We arrange to meet up.

She then takes us to an avant garde club in a very posh district of Tokyo. It is an “installation” club where people try to be living works of art. It is pretentious. Today’s theme is “being alone”. All around the club people are busy striking poses. It is a bit “Gothic”. There is one woman lying still with her head wrapped up in spider’s webs, dressed in black. There are others doing joint poses, sat back to back, heads turned from each other, “ignoring” each other. There is a swimming pool there and people are in it. There is a tiny naked thin Japanese woman sat on a stool in the middle of the pool. There are others at each corner of the pool. I note some Yakuza with sunglasses stood at the bar. I get into the pool and swim around looking at the various people in “installations”. I am fully clothed. When I leave the water, I am dry. I make my way to the bar.

Then the conversation turns to Ju-Jitsu. I comment that I have some training. The guys there try to test me out with some locks. I let them win. I know that their style is all form based and not all that fluid. They egg me on. To the side of the bar there are some white paper screens with an ornate Golden Dragon on them. They lead into a dojo. I strip off to my waist and go through into the dojo. They all think it is funny that a “fat” middle aged white guy is going to fight in the dojo. They also strip to the waist; they are young and rippling with muscles. I am confident though that I have their measure. We spar for a while and my confidence has been entirely justified. I manage to throw several of them to the floor.

Back in the bar now I notice that it is serving drinks. I ask the Japanese barman for a white beer in English pointing to a bottle. I assume that the drink is free. Strangely he converses with me in German, Hoch Deutsch. He says that the beer is nine yen. I give him a 10 yen note.

The gaijin woman from the coffee shop is also now there. She orders a beer similarly. She looks into her purse amidst all the coins which are there and finds two 4.5 yen coins. She pays the barman with these. It all seems very normal.

Next there are several of us at the bottom of a trail leading up the mountain to a ski resort. There are a series of snow covered steps. We start to climb these steps. It is a little slippery. I tell the people in front of me, mostly young Japanese to take it one step at a time and to make use of the hand rail. We laugh and joke as we make our way up the hill.

We arrive at reception of a very posh and swanky hotel. They have been waiting for us, for my meeting with the publishers tomorrow. We have been assigned a suite with a large living area with bedrooms off of this. The Maitre d’ shows us to our suite and all our luggage has been carried there. He leaves us to settle in, gives us a room service menu and will await our call. Our stay at the hotel has been paid for.

The alarm goes off.

Golden Dragon – y ddraig aur- Dream 23-12-2012

I am somehow in the Welsh valleys. The road along the side of the valley is being worked on. I am driving along, and a very large mechanical digger is pilling up porta-cabins by “throwing” them. I pull my car up so as not to get caught be the digger. It continues for a while and the way is now blocked.

I then try to proceed on foot, and I cannot get over the obstacle. On the other side of the valley again and that too is blocked.

I come back to a small snow-covered area and again the way is blocked by a collision of cars. I get in one car and drive it a bit. I get out and it continues on in automatic and it crashes into the pile of cars.

I am now at a large extensive house which is in the South-East. Someone warns me that the press has come for the celebrities. As I approach the house, I see the press photographers piling out of vehicles, chasing a celebrity. I dodge round the back of the house.

As I do this I take off and soar into the sky. I am flying around the house and observing it from above. In the courtyard at the back there is a terrace and sat there is one of the journalists. I fly over him. He is sat in an ornate writing desk. I fly past again as he reaches for his camera. I land in the courtyard.

I walk towards where he is sitting and through some “Japanese” style doors. On the floor is an exquisitely carved oriental dragon. This is “my” place. The journalist comes over and points at the dragon which is beautiful and golden.

“This is the kimono-dragon the golden dragon”, he says.

“They are searching for the golden dragon {you}. Now you are it.”

I sit down next to the dragon and begin a meal with lacquer chopsticks and oriental bowls.

I replay the entire dream several times in my mind.

Note the doors/screens in the dream above. Door is the dreaming symbol for possibility.

Metallic Dragon Dream 25-2-13

In an inner city environment, I walk into a day centre. There is an open art project going on. In the entrance to the temporary classroom hut there are a black man and a white woman. They hand me a sheet of paper and a marker pen. I go through into the classroom. Sat in a row is a bunch of men, mostly black and not rich. There are all seated on chairs and have an easel in front of them. The paper on the easels is untouched. They are all trying to figure out what to do. I sit on a chair in front of a table, upon which there are arts and crafts material. I look for an easel. I empty my pockets onto the table. There is my wallet, some keys, some loose change and a mobile ‘phone. A man sits next to me. I go off to get some materials and my chair is taken by a newcomer. I come back and pick up the contents of my wallet. I sit on the next chair. I start drawing on my paper and the man next to be starts to copy me. He asks me what he should do. I suggest some ideas. He wants to scrape the paint of his ruler so I lend him my small Swiss army pen-knife and show him how to do this. I say to him that knives aren’t allowed but this one because it only has a tiny blade is ok. We continue working. Soon I am helping all the others get started.

The setting is changed. It is next week. I walk into a shoe shop and meet one of the guys from the art room there. He works there. He says that people are nervous of me. I ask why. He says that I am continuously setting things on fire, particularly rubbish bins. I walk past them and they ignite. All the others find this difficult to handle. I was not aware of this. I say that I’ll try to keep an eye out for it. I try to go to the toilet at the back of the shop. It is busy. I am in no hurry.

I leave the shop and cross a very wide boulevard which is lined with well established leafy trees. The road is wider than I initially thought. I should hurry to get across. I don’t, rather the traffic slows to let me cross. When I get to the other side, I look back at a large several storey building. I am standing next to people in what appears to be a bus queue. The building is an art and design college. Out of one of the upper windows of the building a large metallic dragon is released. I know this to be a design project. It swoops down and flies across the road to land in the tree above my head. As it flies it transforms into a small lithe, living dragon. When it lands in the tree it flaps its wings and coils and uncoils its tail. I reach up and play with the dragon’s tail as if it was my pet. It hops out of the tree and lands upon my head. It is making soft purring noises. I know what it is thinking and it knows what I am thinking. It makes a dragon’s roar. I do mine and for a while we roar together. It says that I should do my full roar. As I do this a great burst of flame comes out of my mouth and the sound is very loud. I repeat this. The dragon says that this is why I set things on fire. Slowly the dragon merges into me, it and I, are one and the same.

The people in the bus queue cannot believe that which they have just witnessed.

As I awake from the dream, I am somehow aware that all of the problems stem from the summer of 2002. The root cause of all the difficulties lies back then and with the people I knew then. Unless they do something about it, things will never be put back on course. Their responsibility is large.

Fire = Desire for destruction, change or the fear thereof.

Dragon = Power / Magic

Rhondda – Y Ddraig Aur (Golden Dragon) Dream – 06-10-21

Last night we attended our second Breton class and as we arrived there were two crows circling above the venue. We are in the Bro Dreger {Tregor} and part of what stimulated the move was the prevalence of the Tregor dragon flag at a festival in Landreger in 2019.

This is the second dream from last night and because of the symbolism, it is probably significant.

I hear on the news that there has been a strange happening in Wales in which a row of terraced houses has been painted black. I “go” to see it. It is in the upper reaches of Trealaw Road. I arrive / land on the opposite side of the street and note that the black terrace is very close to where my maternal great grandfather John Parry Jones lived with his family when they moved down from North Wales. It is near where there is a path to a footbridge over the Rhondda River to Tonypandy. I decide to walk over the bridge and travel by train back to Gravesend.

As I cross the river, I am about to enter a shopping centre precinct, I notice a woman coming towards me holding a cylindrical object which is white and painted upon which is y ddraig aur. I look down at the t-shirt I am wearing and it is my t-shirt with the y drraig aur flag printed upon it. I suggest to her that because of this we must talk. She speaks English with a fairly strong Russian accent. She agrees.

Next, we are in her room. I take a closer look at the cylindrical object and see that it is the covering for a bronze statue underneath. I see that the dragon is slightly lopsided and say that it must be dissolved and repainted. We dissolve the dragon using a liquid and it flakes off flakes of genuine gold leaf which is very bright and almost alive. It is way more golden than the original image of y ddraig aur I saw near the river. It has come alive.

With great care she at first paints a black outline on the cylindrical cover and then begins to start the dragon. The gold on the black paint is vivid.

I say to her that it is a bit of an omen and that perhaps we are to work together. I ask her to tell me about herself, her journey.

In her Russian accent she takes me over to her bookcase and says that first she studied shamanism and pulls out a book by Kenneth Meadows. I am dumbstruck. I say that he was the first person to teach me shamanism and that this is now omen enough for me.

She then asks me about my practices. I explain that I have done an extensive recapitulation, I organised the retreats with Theun and the fact that I don’t need to recapitulate any more.

Dream ends.

Y Ddraig Aur (The Gold Dragon), c. 1400 – c. 1416, the royal standard of Owain Glyndŵr, Prince of Wales, famously raised over Caernarfon during the Battle of Tuthill in 1401 against the English. It is evident in Glyndŵr’s privy seals that his gold dragon had two legs.

–

–

This dream was so out of the blue, unexpected.

The dream starts in the UK in England. I am hosting a personal development course in a country house with a large events room. We are sat in plenary in U-shape around the side of the high ceiling dance hall. It is ornate but now carpeted. A smartly dressed tall woman with a feint American accent and long blonde hair is speaking on a slightly raised wooden dais. She is using a long wooden pointer to point at a presentation she is making, which is running on a white screen.

It is time for a break before the final closing remarks and conference wrap up.

Everyone gets up for refreshments which are served in the antechamber. I walk through this into the back of the house which turns into a smaller building. This is where I have been living in the UK countryside. There is a wooden shed and outbuildings. I am checking on the content of these as we will be moving soon. Someone has started moving the items of furniture. I say to a woman there that she ought to have known better not to disturb my system. There is a symmetry to how I have fitted things in the shed. They only go in one way and must come out the reverse way. The passage to the shed is narrow and there is only one way to do this. I am slightly angry and the people are sheepish.

I return to the conference and it is over. Everyone has left, they are all people from my past in one sense. I have missed my chance to do the summing up and to thank the speaker. They have mostly left in embarrassment. The sense of embarrassment is strong and clear.

The speaker is now playing a video recording of semi-rural Tibet. The camera is running through the streets and I can see a large white and brown temple up on the hill. There are prayer flags and modern Tibetan people together with some more rustic “peasants”. I look at the woman and she has changed into an embroidered gold and red jacket over her novice nun robes. He hair is now short. I ask her about the video she says that it is of her people and that she has been working for them in making my acquaintance.

At this point a small party of people enter the room. They are all dressed in ceremonial Tibetan robes. These are very opulent. The embroidery is yellow, red, magenta, and saffron. It is ornate and slightly garish. There is a scent of incense accompanying them They are headed by a monk/abbot who is old and his right hand man who has jet black hair. In the entourage there is a western woman with a round yellow-red embroidered cap over her bald head. I recognise her as someone whom I have met in this lifetime. I go up to her and say, “I know you”. She winks, smiles and says that yes, I do and that she had been sent to observe me. Amongst them is a tall athletic Tibetan man who moves with grace, poise and style. I point my finger into his chest. I say to him, “you are warrior and fighter.” He laughs and says yes. We can spar later using traditional Tibetan weapons to see what I remember.

Now into the back of the room furniture is being carried in by hand. I know it to be of a ceremonial nature and this has been carried from afar. My eyes are drawn to a very ornate chest with meticulous cabinet work. It is made in the shape of a Welsh dresser with an upper cupboard. The wood is highly polished, perhaps walnut. The detail of the closures is in gold. It is a treasure and contained within it are relics. Although not visible to the naked eye, inscribed into the wood in “magic” lettering are some words in Tibetan script. The calligraphy is excellent and the downward strokes of the letters are longer and more artistic than is customary. They have been inscribed with flourish. There is a sense that the intense black calligraphy has been “burned” into the wood over the centuries and that only certain people can see it.

–

From the film Kundun, a portrayal of the 14th Dalai Lama

–

The carpet on the floor of the hall has been rolled back to reveal a parquet dance floor of some considerable sheen. Amongst the entourage I can hear gossiping. “It cannot be him; he is too coarse thickset and muscular.”

I hear this and whip off my shirt to reveal my muscular bare chest. I say that I will cooperate with whatever it is they must do. Take a look if you must. I am now wearing saffron yellow trousers, training pants, that are “elasticated” at the ankles. I start to do a forward splits on the floor to warm up. I say that given I am nearly sixty I am surprised that being that old I can still do that.

One of the woman in the entourage says to me that I am much older than that both in this lifetime and stretching way back. I am nearly 73 she says. I do the mental calculation that I must have been “born” in the early 1950s. She says, “we tried to wake you five years ago”. You have been “asleep” and we have been waiting.

I briefly wake up and then drift off.

I am at an oriental Temple scene with ponds and in an immaculate garden. At first pass I think Chinese and then know Japanese. There are people there with round black ceremonial hats and flowing Japanese robes. I am poured into the pond as very large and bright, shiny goldfish. I swim in the Temple ponds and in the dream, I know that my second Buddhist life was Japanese. These ponds are my home, where I swim.

I the return to the hall in the previous part of the dream and the warrior comes into the room carrying some odd looking Tibetan martial arts weapons. Which I recognise. Some of the monks are now seated and are reciting mantra whilst thumbing through their prayer beads.

I have a very strong visual image of two yellow-hat Tibetan monks in full colour sat on a rock up in the mountains playing their long Tibetan alpine horns. That image and the sound persists even now. I can “hear” the horns inside my mind. They are precursors to a ritual, setting the scene.

I get up and greet the cat. I take my medication and put the coffee on. I sit down and start typing.

–

–

Tag: magic

Y Ddraig Aur – Golden Dragon Dreams

Tibetan Buddhist Search Committee Dream 29-04-23.