Tag: nagal

Retreat Centre (dreaming) – Snake Bite Dream 01-09-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is last night’s dream had between 3:30 and 7 AM.

The dream starts somewhere in England. I am with a man who is slightly older than me, with grey-white hair. He is dressed in a casual cream-white linen suit and has a “posh” accent. He shows me into a detached building which I understand to be some kind of a retreat centre. He is very “arcane school” in his use of language and manner. He thinks that he is superior and more evolved than I. He ushers me into the building and to a conservatory at the back  of the kitchen. The others will be here soon.

We are joined by a few women of my age and slightly younger. They are all dressed in a vaguely posh-hippy manner with chunky jewellery and expensive died hair. Some are from SES. They are surprised to see me there. The man says that I am there at his invitation. They want to know a little bit about me.

I say that I have read very extensively into things “spiritual” and that in this lifetime I have been doing a dreaming practice since 2000. They say that they like dreams. I say that maybe they should keep a journal of what happens when I am with them because a being like me, from the deep South, can have a dramatic effect on dreaming. We are dreaming.

One of the women asks If I will help her put up the Christmas decorations, she is large and plump and clearly a dreamer by prediction also from the South. We put the decorations up. I start to play with a large great Dane dog on the floor.  I lie down with it face to face and we play. I the  say that we should eat. There is some resistance but soon we all pull the tables together. Lucy walks in and she is known to them. They are surprised that I know her too. I explain that we are exactly twenty years separated in birth having been born on the same day. They ask me if she lied to me. I say that she did not necessarily tell me the full truth.

I ask what time the village shop closes. It should be open until five. I go and return with some wine and cider; some bread and a chocolate log.

I go outside with Lucy and we stand on a hillock in the garden next to an apple tree. From there we can see the sea and perhaps France. I ask her how she is but she is off staring a little into the distance. We share a silence for a long time and then go back into the house.

I comment that when I was in the village, I saw large black bears. “What are you supposed to do?” They say make a lot of noise. I note in the dream that they do not know what will happen in the dreaming  because I am among them. They think they do, but they do not.

The scene changes to India. In a busy courtyard people are playing cricket. It is a makeshift pitch a bit like cricket nets. A young Indian man is batting with pads but no helmet. A tall Englishman in whites is bowling. He is being slogged all over. The bowler changes to a northerner. He picks up a thin black snake holding its head and jaws in his hand which he bowls at the batter. The batter misses. I go to inspect and pick up the snake. As I do this it bites my right hand on the fleshy part between thumb and index finger. I can feel it painlessly inject liquid. I gently ease the snake off my right hand with my left hand and it slithers off.

I start to feel a little unwell and a military type English man takes me up to his room. He wonders if I am allergic to the poison, the venom. If so, I will die. He puts me into his bed and calls for an ambulance. It will take many hours. The room is a shit tip and very tropical. I have the chills. He does not hold out much hope for me. He goes out onto the veranda to smoke. After a while I wake up refreshed and completely naked.  I see a pair of short navy-blue shorts on the internal washing line. They are like a pair I had 40 years ago. I put these shorts on and go out onto the veranda. The man is completely stunned and utterly shocked to see me up walking. The snake bite on my hand is completely healed. I say that I have nothing to worry about with nāgas.

The dream ends.

The Old Guard and Toltecs – Speculations

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The second instalment of the Old Guard series has recently hit Netflix. It has a shared plotline of sorts with the Highlander movies of ere. In this Old Guard dramatization physical plane immortals exist adjoint humanity and interact to either good or bad effect depending on mood and predilection. In Highlander in the end there can be only one in the battle between good and evil. In the Old Guard series “Andy” the main protagonist has fought to help, aid and otherwise nudge humanity in a “better” direction. Instead of reincarnating she has one contiguous and very long life in which she preserves her super model looks despite getting slashed and shot. A magical and miraculous healing occurs. She loses her regeneration powers and then regains them.

In each the burden of endless longevity / immortality is touched upon. They do not dwell overmuch on the boredom aspect rather the action and power angle. The omnipotence may appeal to the burdened and downtrodden. It may titillate the sociopath and the narcissist.

For dramatic impact pivotal points in global {human} history are referenced. An allied them is to be found in the “Assassins Creed” franchise though in this case reincarnation is invoked and a DNA bloodline is the bearer and propagator of ongoing conflicts.

It has been suggested to me that the so-called Toltecs were incarnated around pivotal times and played a role behind the scenes in the evolution of human and planetary history. Given that the technique of erasing personal history is part and parcel of the training, it is not surprising that little historical refence can be found. In the Old Guard Andy tries to avoid publicity. However in this day and age and thanks to internet monitoring and various intelligence services it is impossible to leave no trace. The times have changed.

In the Toltec tradition there is such a thing as a nagal being. The word Nagual in Spanish American is similar. The word Naga in the Indian tradition does not differ in root. In the hagiography of Buddhism Siddartha is protected by king cobra, a naga-raja, from the rain. These nagas live in the place or world of the nagas, naga-loka. Wisdom can be elicited from nagas and naga-loka. Serpents are the dreaming symbol for wisdom.

This suggests via speculation and extrapolation that a nagal being was a contemporary and perhaps companion of Shakyamuni Buddha.

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“There is unanimous agreement that Nāgārjuna (ca 150–250 CE) is the most important Buddhist philosopher after the historical Buddha himself and one of the most original and influential thinkers in the history of Indian philosophy. His philosophy of the “middle way” (madhyamaka) based around the central notion of “emptiness” (śūnyatā) influenced the Indian philosophical debate for a thousand years after his death; with the spread of Buddhism to Tibet, China, Japan and other Asian countries the writings of Nāgārjuna became an indispensable point of reference for their own philosophical inquiries. A specific reading of Nāgārjuna’s thought, called Prāsaṅgika-Madhyamaka, became the official philosophical position of Tibetan Buddhism which regards it as the pinnacle of philosophical sophistication up to the present day.”

Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Nāgārjuna (नागार्जुन). – Name of an ancient Buddhist teacher of the rank of बोधिसत्त्व (bodhisattva).

Wisdom Library

The name also appears in the wider Hindu sources predating Shakyamuni Buddha

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Typically a three pronged nagal is said to distribute knowledge widely. Like a stone thrown into a pond.  If Nāgārjuna is a wider term for a nagal teacher in the Indian sub-continent then this suggests that the core Toltec and Vedic / Buddhist teachings are similarly sourced and may differ only in method of expression and verbalisation. The term is a generic and not a specific and personal name.

I personally have not found any huge glaring clashes between these philosophies. There is a marked difference in emphasis and the cultural refence points and metaphors employed.

The entertainment mentioned above is not completely inconsistent with a hierarchy of spiritual “masters” on overwatch of humanity. However in order to make it dramatically appealing they must have meaty bits and interpersonal relations such as love with hints of corporeal hanky-panky.

Too abstract and the film would not sell. The immortals have to be beautiful people if good and have ugliness if bad. One is not allowed a minger of an immortal. They must be L’Oréal advert fresh out of the shower from time to time.

Having a “hot” teacher can badly detract from learning.

It is not difficult to see that the course of human history did indeed pivot around relatively small and local acts. The execution of Jesus ended up being a game changer. The invention of antibiotics added number density to humanity.  An assassination was used as a pretext for the first world war. If there is tension a simple fuse is all that is needed to ignite. A miscalculation in a Bay of Pigs might cause a nuclear winter. The simple protection of a Buddha from the rain enabled the propagation of the teachings for mind.

Humanity is prone to flying off the handle in rage and “self-righteous” indignation. Humanity has a “cob” on and is very prone to fits of angry pique which kill hundreds of thousands.

In the absence of overwatch might the history of humanity have been even more bloody and brutal?

We are heading into unknown territories with AI and Drone-robotics. What are the two biggest markets? War and sex. Thus humanity will expend effort into developing these for profit applications. Since the theoretical abolition of slavery humanity seeks a replacement.  I read yesterday that progress toward in vitro spermatogenesis is advancing, if the same continues for human eggs it may be possible to make a human-like foetus. A synthetic human is unlikely to have an indwelling Soul. This biological dabbling and getting a blind boner for technology represents a Pandora’s box the lid of which humanity will find difficult to resist. What is unleashed now and later in this century may cease to be readily controllable. The temptation of cash and the arrogant appeal of God-like potential may lead humanity down a very dark path indeed. It may regret…

How might Andy and the Highlander come to the rescue?

Gateway to the Nagual’s World – South the place of Dreaming

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In my case, don Juan wanted an omen before he taught me the ritual. That omen came when don Juan and I were driving through a border town in Arizona and a policeman stopped me. The policeman thought I was an illegal alien. Only after I had shown him my passport, which he suspected of being a forgery, and other documents, did he let me go. Don Juan had been in the front seat next to me all the time, and the policeman had not given him a second glance. He had focused solely on me. Don Juan thought the incident was the omen he was waiting for.

His interpretation of it was that it would be very dangerous for me to call attention to myself, and he concluded that my world had to be one of utter simplicity and candor – elaborate ritual and pomp were out of character for me. He conceded, however, that a minimal observance of ritualistic patterns was in order when I made my acquaintance with his warriors. I had to begin by approaching them from the south, because that is the direction that power follows in its ceaseless flux. Life force flows to us from the south, and leaves us flowing toward the north. He said that the only opening to a Nagual’s world was through the south, and that the gate was made by two female warriors, who would have to greet me and would let me go through if they so decided.

He took me to a town in central Mexico, to a house in the countryside. As we approached it on foot from a southerly direction, I saw two massive Indian women standing four feet apart, facing each other. They were about thirty or forty feet away from the main door of the house, in an area where the dirt was hard-packed. The two women were extraordinarily muscular and stern. Both had long, jet-black hair held together in a single thick braid. They looked like sisters. They were about the same height and weight – I figured that they must have been around five feet four, and weighed 150 pounds. One of them was extremely dark, almost black, the other much lighter. They were dressed like typical Indian women from central Mexico – long, full dresses and shawls, homemade sandals.

Don Juan made me stop three feet from them. He turned to the woman on our left and made me face her. He said that her name was Cecilia and that she was a dreamer. He then turned abruptly, without giving me time to say anything, and made me face the darker woman, to our right. He said that her name was Delia and that she was a stalker. The women nodded at me. They did not smile or move to shake hands with me, or make any gesture of welcome. Don Juan walked between them as if they were two columns marking a gate. He took a couple of steps and turned as if waiting for the women to invite me to go through. The women stared at me calmly for a moment. Then Cecilia asked me to come in, as if I were at the threshold of an actual door.

Don Juan led the way to the house. At the front door we found a man. He was very slender. At first sight he looked extremely young, but on closer examination he appeared to be in his late fifties. He gave me the impression of being an old child: small, wiry, with penetrating dark eyes. He was like an elfish apparition, a shadow. Don Juan introduced him to me as Emilito, and said that he was his courier and all-around helper, who would welcome me on his behalf.

It seemed to me that Emilito was indeed the most appropriate being to welcome anyone. His smile was radiant; his small teeth were perfectly even. He shook hands with me, or rather he crossed his forearms and clasped both my hands. He seemed to be exuding enjoyment; anyone would have sworn that he was ecstatic in meeting me. His voice was very soft and his eyes sparkled.

We walked into a large room. There was another woman there. Don Juan said that her name was Teresa and that she was Cecilia’s and Delia’s courier. She was perhaps in her early thirties, and she definitely looked like Cecilia’s daughter. She was very quiet but very friendly. We followed don Juan to the back of the house, where there was a roofed porch.

It was a warm day. We sat there around a table, and after a frugal dinner we talked until after midnight. Emilito was the host. He charmed and delighted everyone with his exotic stories. The women opened up. They were a great audience for him. To hear the women’s laughter was an exquisite pleasure. They were tremendously muscular, bold, and physical. At one point, when Emilito said that Cecilia and Delia were like two mothers to him, and Teresa like a daughter, they picked him up and tossed him in the air like a child.

Of the two women, Delia seemed the more rational, down- to-earth. Cecilia was perhaps more aloof, but appeared to have greater inner strength. She gave me the impression of being more intolerant, or more impatient; she seemed to get annoyed with some of Emilito’s stories. Nonetheless, she was definitely on the edge of her chair when he would tell what he called his “tales of eternity.” He would preface every story with the phrase, ‘Do you, dear friends, know that. . . ?’

The story that impressed me most was about some creatures that he said existed in the universe, who were the closest thing to human beings without being human; creatures who were obsessed with movement and capable of detecting the slightest fluctuation inside themselves or around them. These creatures were so sensitive to motion that it was a curse to them. It gave them such pain that their ultimate ambition was to find quietude. Emilito would intersperse his tales of eternity with the most outrageous dirty jokes. Because of his incredible gifts as a raconteur, I understood every one of his stories as a metaphor, a parable, with which he was teaching us something.

 Don Juan said that Emilito was merely reporting about things he had witnessed in his journeys through eternity. The role of a courier was to travel ahead of the Nagual, like a scout in a military operation. Emilito went to the limits of the second attention, and whatever he witnessed he passed on to the others.

From “The Eagle’s Gift” by Carlos Castaneda, Part Three.

Burning House – Pots of Honey – nagal’s Courier – Tim – Dream 06-06-2025

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Here is last night’s dream.

The dream opens in a large, several storey, mansion like house. The house is in London and it is full of people milling around. There is a sense of there being former colleagues there, though I cannot identify any individuals. There is a mild chaos and a mild sense of consternation heading towards panic. There is much ado.

Somewhere in the building a fire has started. There is a growing warmth, heat and smoke. People are even more directionless and flapping about. I notice a pair of double fire doors with Fire Exit written upon them on a green panel. I press the bar to open the doors and start to shout and usher people outside to safety. For some reason they have lost the plot and it is my calm that helps them make good the exit.

I can see that the fire is not yet very serious but is in the process of worsening. I am cool calm and collected. I go back inside the building. I can see two fair sized terracotta amphorae. I put one hand in the neck of each of these and lift them up from within. I calmly carry the amphorae out of the building to the fire assembly point. I set them down on the ground and pull out my hands which have been immersed in the amphorae. A rich light golden honey flows off my arms and hands and back into the necks of the amphorae. For a long time, honey flows off my forearms and hands into the amphorae. I know that there is nectar in the honey and that both my hands are fully immersed and coated with that nectar-honey. I enjoy the sensation of flowing honey.

The scene changes and I am walking out of an urban car park at night. I am being tailed by some young men in jeans and with hoodies. They are following me for quite some distance. There are a few of them but two main protagonists. I am unconcerned. I stop and turn. I ask them why they are following me. They say that they have noted that I have something in the back right hand pocket of my jeans. They asks what it is. I say that it is a “special” USB flash drive with a plan, a business plan for Alexandros who is the nagal’s courier, my nagal’s courier. They say that they want me to give it to them. I say that it is encrypted and that only Alexandros and I can read it. They say that they still want it. I explain that it will be for them a Pandora’s box and any attempt at reading it will unleash things they do not want unleashed. They insist. I hand them the USB drive which is in a small black velvet bag with a drawstring closure.

The scene changes and I am in some big faculty like meeting where {big} cheeses are sat around tables in a boardroom style layout. There are more than a dozen people there all smartly dressed. They are aged fifties and early sixties. The meeting is being chaired and convocated by Tim Jones. He has been given this job as being less partial and personally implicated than others. They are to discuss with me what my business plans are, what it is that I want. There is a sense of UK university with some politico-input. I say to Tim that it is more than a little rich that they are finally asking me what I want. How come it is now. He does not know what to make of the situation and is resentful that he has been drawn into it. With no success I try to explain to him and those present that I want nothing, I have no demands. The ball is not in my court – so to speak. I remind Tim that I was pivotal in examining many of his Ph.D. students and was used by him then discarded. Those gathered around the table do not know what to make of it as they are expecting some kind of plan from me, where there is none.

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.

—

—

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

Dream of the Four Pronged nagal – 30-04-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream.

I am with Charlie whom I know to be an extrovert highly talkative nagal’s courier. We are in a courtyard with white stone walls some draped in rude pink bougainvillea. We are sat at a two seater small white bistro style table in the sun. He is talking animatedly and says that there are some people he would like me to meet. We are in a leafy rich suburb of Pretoria South Africa. He says again that are some people he would like me to meet, now.

The first is just around the corner. He leads me off to a small shopping / administrative area. There is a 1960s style polygon shaped building with a large, covered porch and outdoor seating. It is a community library and an outreach of the university. We enter and there are all sorts of posters in the vestibule advertising events. Behind the librarian’s desk is a medium height medium build white woman. She has an immaculate grey straight haired bob and is dressed in a well pressed blouse and trousers. There are small black butterflies as a motif on her white blouse. Around her neck on a lanyard are spectacles. Charlie introduces me and she speaks in a Germanic Dutch English accent. It is different from Afrikaans and highly educated. She says that she likes the East. I already know this, she is an Easterly Stalker who works at the university library most of the time. In her spare time, she is highly athletic and a free climber. She is lithe.

Charlie then leads me off South into a township near Cape Town. We go to a government run drop in centre / nursery. It is next to a pop-up health centre for adults with HIV. We go into the centre and I can immediately hear the booming tones of a large woman, who is telling someone off in a well humoured manner. She is laughing. As we approach, I can see a large buxom and overweight black woman with corn-row dreadlocks. She has a gold ring piercing in her left nostril and left ear. She is about six feet tall and, in all respects, larger than life. Around her are numerous toddlers and small children. It is chaotic yet somehow together. She hugs Charlie fiercely and squashes him to her bosom. When she sees me, she suddenly becomes coy and suspicious. She inspects me and breaks into a radiant ear to ear grin. There is no need for a hug because we can feel each other’s hearts. She is a Southerly Stalker.

Charlie then takes me to Western Cape to an isolated penitentiary inland from the coast. It is surrounded by razor wire and heavily guarded. We pull up to the guard house in our car. He stays in the car as only I am allowed in. The guards have been expecting me. They open the gate and let me in. I walk in unaccompanied. There are no more guards. I open the first gate and then a door. Inside in a dark room of considerable size there is an electric fence surrounding an enclosure. On it are danger high-voltage signs. I can see a man inside the enclosure. He is wearing a wide brimmed hat and a long dark brown bushwhacker’s coat. I can pass through the electric fence without any problems, with ease. I know that it does not constrain him either. We are at home in the darkness of the room. We stand brooding together in the darkness. He is a Man Behind the Scenes and I know him to be seventh ray. I can see his eyes but not his face in the darkness. We know each other very well, across lifetimes.

The dream ends.

Dream Within a Dream, Dream 21-2-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream.

The dream starts in a central European city with a long and elegant history. It has a feel like old-town central Vienna. I am in an ornate and semi-antique laden room. I am sat at a low “coffee” table in a small leather bound armchair. I can smell the leather.

A man walks into the room. His is nearly as tall as the doorway and well over six feet tall. He moves with grace, poise and elegance. He has long, not quite shoulder length, luxuriant blonde hair which falls partially across his face. He looks and feels like Michael York. {Closest match}

–

–

He is expensively dressed though the clothes are not new. He has expensive English shoes on. His air is European of indeterminate nature, though slightly Scandi-Germanic. He is of noble and aristocratic stock. Although I have never met him in person I know him from my Toltec meditations fifteen years ago. He is Toltec nagal of high degree.

He sits in a large dark green leather chair alongside me. I can see a ring on his finger, a gold stud in his left ear and an expensive looking Swiss gold watch.

We are very pleased to see each other and amused at the circumstance.

He tells me that he has had a dream which he would like to discuss with me. I say that I like doing this. He knows.

He says that in the dream he goes to a tailors in St James’s London. There he is ushered into a back room for a fitting. They ask him to partially undress and then offer him a pristine dark, near jet black suit to try on. It is near a dinner jacket but not quite. The material he says was exquisite and the fit near perfect.

He says that the tailor says that they have been saving this suit for him for a long time. They have been waiting. The sleeves are ever so slightly too long. The tailor takes the jacket and scuttles off to the back room. In the meantime, an assistant removes his shirt and fits him with a crisp new white shirt without a collar. He places small ornate cufflinks to the wrists. They have an initial on which he knows is his.

The tailor returns and puts the jacket on. It now fits perfectly. He is encouraged to walk up and down the room and inspect in a mirror. As he does this, he notes in the left lower outer jacket pocket a lump. He reaches in a pulls out a fluorescent green-yellow tennis ball cut exactly in half. He puts one half in each hand and looks carefully at it. The dream ends on that note.

I say to him that a long while ago I used to frequent St James’s, implicit is not just in this lifetime.

He asks me what I make of it.

I say to him that the feeling of the tennis ball is that of all the cleavages in the world which is rife now with separation and division. That the new suit represents for him a new role which he must step into. He is ready, fit for it. He has been waiting for a long time and it now nears.

He says that this was pretty much what he thought.

He reaches into his left jacket pocket and hands to me a fluorescent green-yellow tennis ball cut exactly in half.

He jokes that wherever he goes he now keeps finding them…

The dream ends.

Via Gambetti – Letter – Via Marchese – nagal Dream 11-03-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream it has a distinct Italian theme.

The dream starts with me sat at my desk. The desk is small and ornate. It is designed for writing and has stationery and quills. The feel is late 18th or very early 19th century. I am wearing pantaloons which button just below the knee, they are of a golden colour. A man comes in he is bearing a letter on a metal silver coloured tray. The tray is slightly ornate. The letter is addressed to me though I cannot see my name. I can see “Via Gambetti” as the address. I sense a silent “h” as in Gambhetti. I open the letter with a paper knife. The letter is written in a deep royal blue ink with a slanting italic script. I have been waiting for this letter for some time. It is written in Italian.

The scene changes to modern times, and I am in an Italianate piazza off which is a modern exposition building. The address of which is “Via Marchese della…” or “Via del Marchese…”. I go into the hall and a young woman hands me a conference programme entirely in Italian. I read and understand it. There are many high technology exhibitors with stalls and rooms placed around the large atrium. I start talking to some young people in a group. A man is a posh suit and his PA approach. He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “ciao, we are glad you came. Will you help us judge the best exhibit and most promising technology?”

I go off with them and enter a booth / room which is full of large screens and computers. Someone is playing a game / simulation. The simulation is a mix of military and aid, some kind of logistical clean up operation. The idea is all about logistical delivery and monitoring. I ask a young man to explain his work to me, because I am out of touch and out of date, Jurassic even. He says that he is very pleased to meet me and starts to explain.

We move on to “judge” various other exhibits. I am totally surprised in the dream that anybody would be pleased to see me or welcome my input.

At the back of the exhibition area is small seminar room which I know that I have used before. I make my excuses and nip in there to have some time to myself away from the hubbub. On the green-black rotary blackboard written in white chalk are the words “nagal exposed”. On the rotary white board amidst a multicoloured patch of marker pen is the word “nagal”. It is in relief, not coloured in and the colour of the white board behind.

I take a blackboard eraser to the white chalk and rub it out. I take a piece of blue paper towel to the white board and rub that out. I am very surprised to find these here. When I have finished, I roll both the white board and green-black board over to clean areas.

The dream ends.

Separate Realities…

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

“Carlos Castaneda (December 25, 1925 – April 27, 1998) was an American anthropologist and writer. Starting in 1968, Castaneda published a series of books that describe a training in shamanism that he received under the tutelage of a Yaqui “Man of Knowledge” named don Juan Matus. While Castaneda’s work was accepted as factual by many when the books were first published, the training he described is now generally considered to be fictional.

The first three books—The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge, A Separate Reality, and Journey to Ixtlan—were written while he was an anthropology student at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA). Castaneda was awarded his bachelor’s and doctoral degrees from the University of California, Los Angeles based on the work he described in these books.

At the time of his death in 1998, Castaneda’s books had sold more than eight million copies and had been published in 17 languages”

From Wikipedia

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If you look on the UCLA library web page it is possible to cite his thesis

Castaneda, C. (1973). Sorcery: a description of the world.  / by Carlos Castaneda. University Microfilms.

There is a permalink to the library entry and his thesis is currently listed as unavailable. It does confirm a thesis was submitted.

https://search.library.ucla.edu/permalink/01UCS_LAL/17p22dp/alma999650393606533

Author / Contributor

Castaneda, Carlos, 1953-

Title

Sorcery: a description of the world. / by Carlos Castaneda.

Publication Information

Ann Arbor, Mi. : University Microfilms, 1973.

Type

Dissertation

Physical Description

360 pages ; 21 cm

Language

English

Dissertation

University of California, Los Angeles

Local Notes

Second copy is photocopy.

Subject

Witchcraft — Mexico

Sorcellerie — Mexique

Witchcraft

Mexico

Genre

dissertations.

Academic theses

Academic theses.

Thèses et écrits académiques.

Identifier

OCLC : (OCoLC)04246628

OCLC : (OCoLC)ocm04246628

MMS ID

999650393606533

Source

Library Catalog

Former System Number

965039-ucladb

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Despite the Wikipedia assertation of fictional there are quite a number of thesis grade research articles written about him (still) and the Toltec School web site has over 2 million views.

People like to denounce and disprove, there is always a buck in controversy. It is not unusual for a wiki page to have a measure of bias.

It would be inconceivable for many that a pukka physical scientist could also be a nagal {nagual} being in Castaneda’s contextual world framing. The physical sciences are a separate reality to the world of the sorcerer or brujo. There should be no overlap or intersection of these realities.

True Intuition and the Soul or Dreamer

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

There are various types of intuition, one of these is intellectual pattern forming in which the mind maps things and comes up with some arrangement. An example of this is when I prepare a shopping list, I put items in rough order for where they are in the store. The last item is usually butter or fresh bread because these are closest to the checkouts. When I used to play the card game “pairs”. Instead of row and column, I would remember where, pictorially.  Listening to questions on “university challenge” I occasionally intuit an answer with little or no laboured thinking. Of course this is far from 100% accurate.

There is another kind of intuition, which is less rational, we might call it a direct knowing. This maybe when a friend or family is about to ‘phone and we go towards the ‘phone as it rings. It is kind of spooky for some but completely normal for others.

True intuition is when the dreamer or Soul speaks directly to the incarnate being through the veil of personality and ambition.

Pictorially here is a schematic of levels of awareness as per Théun Mares.

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In the schematic the dreamer corresponds to the Soul and true inner-tuition arises when the dreamer tries to advise and direct the dreamed. I can say that I have had numerous occasions when I have been busy doing something and all of a sudden, I get an imperative out of nowhere, to cease and desist. Alternatively, if I lack courage, I can get a sudden swelling of bravado and encouragement to go ahead.

Until rapport has been established with the dreamer or soul, until one is technically speaking soul-infused, intuition is largely mental or emotional and hence a property of the dreamed or incarnate personality.

Lifetime after lifetime the dreamer dreams in a dreamed, a vehicle in which it learns and evolves. The dreamer is often frustrated by the wayward dreamed, but that is the challenge of the dreamer to fully manifest its awareness on the physical and meaty plane.

By setting one’s intent to intelligently cooperate with the dreamer one “lifts” awareness onto what is called in some circles the intuitional or buddhic “plane”. I prefer state to plane. Thus, the goal is to expand awareness towards a buddhic or true intuitional level, state or scope. True intuition is never separative rather holistic and inclusive. I use holistic in a much more elevated and expansive sense than it is commonly bandied about, here.

According to the blue books opus, human evolution is headed in the direction of lifting awareness out of the meaty carnal, emotional and mental polarisation towards a true intuitional beingness. That looks nothing like modern soap-opera living, whether Trumpian or otherwise.

The theory goes that humanity is in general not in touch with nor en rapport with its Soul or dreamer. One of the ways contact can be established with the Soul is by dreaming. BUT, in order to do this one has to let go and NOT try to direct the dreams. Otherwise dreaming becomes a mental/emotional/carnal practice. Which does not liberate.

An imperative true intuition is very difficult to ignore, and the consequences of such ignoring can be wide reaching and impactful. The dreamer is persistent and will kneel the dreamed if so required.

True intuition can be very imperative. It can also be light and gentle. The dreamer is the “real” you, so it makes no sense in negating your “self”.

It is said that the greatest act of a warrior is to shift from control to abandon. In that one hands the steering wheel of the mundane vehicle over to the dreamer, the Soul. Life then is Soul influenced, Soul infused and tends to be way less petty and full of gripes and groans and moans.

One learns to dream true…