The dream starts with the wife and I paying a visit to C whom I know to be a nagal’s courier by predilection. He greets us at the door to his house and invites us in. It is in the UK possibly London. The house is a complete mess, a massive shit tip. The place is in disarray with stuff scattered all over the floor. The kitchen is dirty and very messy. There are plates and saucepans unwashed. C himself is looking shabby and a bit fucked up. He does not look well.
I sit him down and start to clean off a metallic roasting dish. I scrub it in the sink until it is clean and shiny. I then place in it from my satchel a whole oven ready chicken. I add some roasting vegetables and turn the oven on. C says that he would like me to do two chickens if they will fit. That way he will have something to eat after we leave. I start cleaning up the sink and find in there another roasting dish which I chip the debris off and scrub clean. In the fridge wrapped in plastic is another chicken. There is nothing else. I check the use by date and it is ok. I place both roasting dishes in the oven to cook. I take a third chicken out of my satchel. It is plastic wrapped and in date. I put it in the fridge for later.
While the food is cooking I go to the bathroom. It is a mess. There is a “Karcher” style high pressure hose there and I start to pressure wash the mud and “shit” off the walls, the sink and the bath. There is a walk in shower and I wash the debris down the plughole. Slowly the bathroom appears.
I go back to the kitchen. I ask C how come he let thing get into such a state, such a complete shit tip? He shrugs his shoulders sheepishly. I know in the dream that this is because he made a big mistake concerning how he interacted and treated me. I say to him that soon there will be some food and that he needs to take better care of himself.
As I am coming to, I think “not another mess, shit tip dream pertaining to mess made by others!”.
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.
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.
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.
Prompted by this morning’s dream I found this one in the vaults, so to speak.
Dream Diary 1-11
I am outside with Charlie. He and I are loading bricks into the trunk / boot of a car. The bricks have curly writing on them, it is not Sanskrit or Tibetan. They are golden and more like large ingots of gold.
He and I are now on a long journey across the mountains on a plateau which is in Tibet. With us is a smiling lama who is our guide, guard and escort. He is showing us the way. The landscape is very sparse and rocky with scree falls. I look at the lama’s physique and it is very similar to mine only that he is shorter and obviously Tibetan. I say that I didn’t know that they built Tibetans like that…
As we continue on our journey. Charlie and I are now wearing saffron and magenta monk’s robes. This journey is to be extensive. As we move forward Charlie is often out in front exploring the different routes. At one stage we need to pick up speed. The Tibetan monk picks up his companion, also a monk, and carries him piggy-back. I do the same with Charlie. I am not sure that I can walk and climb at this altitude like this. After a few steps I realise that I can and easily so.
A little later the trail becomes tortuous and Charlie is way ahead up the hill. He comes down back to me via a slippery and windy route. I find a more direct route. This is a part of a long journey together.
Back now in London, we are at a Tibetan Dzong as guests of honour. Sat waiting are Charlie , the wife and I. We are offered some western food. I turn to her and say that she had better tuck in before they come out with the yak’s butter….
This dream was had in Vienna on honeymoon. I got out of bed and went down to reception to write it down so as to not turn on the lights in the hotel room.
There is sense of training ground. We are all outside waiting for the sensei. However, the sensei is me. Alexandros myself and others are there. Suddenly there is a strike of lightning and A is hit by lightning. He is a nagal’s courier. He is lit up and energised. Only now it is not him it is me who is lit up and energised. This scene lasts for a long time with multiple lightning strikes.
I walk across the bridge fully charged.
The scene replays several times and is vivid even as I recall it today. {Jan 2025}
I go to a gym / factory area. There is something inside my anus. I reach inside and pull out a glossy shiny golden egg. This is very painful. I store this egg somewhere and keep it secret.
The inside of the gymnasium is messy There are things which belong to J. I tidy it up.
Next, I am at “headquarters”. There are many press reports coming in and for some reason they all want to talk with me.
There is a caller on the line. They, the others, don’t think she is real. They think she is a freak.
I ask to speak to her.
She says that there have been lights seen over the Welsh Harp reservoir {in North London}.
She says that the seventh seal has been broken and that the seven horsemen have come and that there are now seven of them, horsemen.
I say Elizabeth. She says yes. Everyone wants to know how I know. I say it is obvious.
We keep monitoring incoming request / reports. There are 141 of them referring to the lights.
Has anyone actually seen it, the horsemen, to verify. Yes, there is one confirmed report. E is now a member of the team.
Dream ends
*Whilst in Vienna we walked past an antique shop and they had tiles of the major arcana of the Tarot of Marseilles. I was stunned. The tarot was painted onto white porcelain coated tiles larger than A4 size. They had been up in some person’s house. I asked the shop owner how much and she said around 34,000 euros for the set of 22.
These from Wikipedia
The Seven Seals of God from the Bible’s Book of Revelation are the seven symbolic seals (Greek: σφραγῖδα, sphragida) that secure the book or scroll that John of Patmos saw in an apocalyptic vision. The opening of the seals of the document occurs in Rev Ch 5–8 and marks the Second Coming of the Christ and the beginning of The Apocalypse/Revelation. Upon the Lamb of God/Lion of Judah opening a seal on the cover of the book/scroll, a judgment is released or an apocalyptic event occurs. The opening of the first four Seals releases the Four Horsemen, each with his own specific mission. The opening of the fifth Seal releases the cries of martyrs for the “Word/Wrath of God”. The sixth Seal prompts plagues, storms and other cataclysmic events. The seventh Seal cues seven angelic trumpeters who in turn cue the seven bowl judgments and more cataclysmic event
October 24, 2008: Many of the world’s stock exchanges experienced the worst declines in their history, with drops of around 10% in most indices. In the U.S., the DJIA fell 3.6%, although not as much as other markets. The United States dollar and Japanese yen and the Swiss franc soared against other major currencies, particularly the British pound and Canadian dollar, as world investors sought safe havens. A currency crisis developed, with investors transferring vast capital resources into stronger currencies, leading many governments of emerging economies to seek aid from the International Monetary Fund. Later that day, the deputy governor of the Bank of England, Charlie Bean, suggested that “This is a once in a lifetime crisis, and possibly the largest financial crisis of its kind in human history”. In a transaction pushed by regulators, PNC Financial Services agreed to acquire National City Corp.
This dream is top end strange and perhaps re-presents an occult attack carried out on me.
The dream starts with a knowing that in group situations there is always one who lets the evil thoughts and emotions in. That person is usually of the number three and so it was in the past. The weak point for temptation is always the West and the people of that predilection.
It continues to a visual image of a building which I know to be The Royal Institution of Great Britain. Someone has gotten past security and is rampaging around the building. I quickly run about the building to see if it has the old back passages which only someone who lives there would know. It does not. I am with the pool of back office workers and secretaries. We close the door and lock it.
We hear a noise outside. A young blonde American woman who works for the CIA goes to look through the peep hole. The attacker looks back and she tries to stab it with a long pin. It does not work. She runs past me.
The door bursts open and the only partially human attacker comes in. I struggle with it physically. It is much stronger then me. It throws me around and rips a large radiator off the wall. I grab a small climbing ice pick off a desk. It presses me against the wall with the radiator and is starting to crush me. I start to hit its left hand with the ice pick stabbing it and drawing blood. The attacker does not seem to worry. I can see its right hand too and re-adjust to attack it. I can feel my ribs getting crushed.
I start to chant in deep voice getting ever deeper and stronger.
Anál nathrach,
orth’ bháis’s bethad,
do chél dénmha
It is the charm of making.
I chant it over and over. Suddenly the radiator drops and the attacker is transformed into a shiny silver decorative candlestick. It is sparkly and there are dangly decorations. One of the ladies goes over to touch it. I tell her not to because it is evil which is still cooling down.
I am completely aware that I am dreaming and am somewhat surprised that I am chanting the charm of making in a dream.
I am now outside in a fenced park. I can see a large lithe man with silver grey hair and I know that the second wave of the attack is coming. He heads straight for me and we fight. Again, he is way stronger than me. I try to chant.
Anál nathrach,
orth’ bháis’s bethad,
do chél dénmha
This has little or no effect because I am nearly exhausted. I am defeated and he and his colleagues start to round everybody up. We are led off towards a small lake in which there is a pontoon. They have with them a young seer with brown curly hair who gives running commentary on the skills and origin of each of the people. Meanwhile the attacker is wiring himself up to the electricity grid. As I near the lake I start to chant again. Water is my element.
Anál nathrach,
orth’ bháis’s bethad,
do chél dénmha
A hand in the water lifts out what looks to be a paper scroll. I take it and it unfurls into a rectangular shield with a handle. I know this shield will protect me from the bolts which the attacker may send.
We find ourselves on the pontoon. He starts to transform into a boat in which to carry us off.
One of his crew shouts out that the sniper is coming.
I can see that this is true and that he is a nagal’s courier already known to me.
The scout says that they need to take the sniper seriously because he as large .6 calibre armour piercing rounds. The main attacker regains humanoid shape.
He takes me with him in the general direction of the sniper. The sniper is loading his single shot rifle and taking pot shots. As we get very close. He goes to load the rifle and with his other hand lobs me a bullet which I catch.
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Whilst the attacker is focused on the sniper. I throw the bullet like a dart at him and it embeds in his chest. There is a sort of ripple in his fabric of the world. The bullet is stuck like a dart.
I wake up and take a visit to the bathroom. It is 7:17 AM.
I try to revisit the dream.
I am back to the scene where I throw the bullet. I can see that it has penetrated a little further into the attacker.
I can now see the face of the “real” human being causing the attack. The image is very clear and I can summon that to conscience now at will. The image changes to the back of his head. Where the cervical spine meets the cranium there is a fair sized yellow “X”. I know that all I have to do it project some energy here and his head will explode in real life. I send a little energy just to establish the connection but refrain from attack-defence. I will store the information should I need it later.
The scene changes and I am in the garden by the greenhouse. I look towards plug hole corner the Northeast and I can see a brilliant rainbow which is reflected in the waters of the pond.
I wake up and think, “bloody hell that was a whopper”.
As a protective measure I visualize a full manifestation of Vajrapani in wrathful mode and “place” copies of him at various strategic points around the garden. I also reconstruct the reflective dome of indigo-blue around the house. Any magic will be reflected back at the source amplified.
I am somehow going around town spraying foam on people I walk with others, and this is for their protection.
I go into a shop. It is old and wooden there. A Ghurkha dressed in a kilt is there, he is talking with the shopkeeper. I tell him that my dad used to work with the 7th army, specifically he was assigned to the Seventh Ghurkha Regiment.
I note the golden medal he is wearing. On it are a golden Caduceus and an image of a swastika. {the correct non-Nazi way round}. He had not seen the swastika before and is a little upset. I explain that I have a golden caduceus too. It is not with me today as it is being examined by another of his kind who is also looking at my Father’s will.
In real life my physical plane father did indeed work with Ghurkhas in the Malayan Emergency and as I have just found out 7th Gurkha Rifles was there at the same time. He was given a Kukri by the Ghurkhas as a gift of honour. I remember it well. He was Second Lieutenant acting Captain in REME during his national service. Because they believed in fate, he said that they had absolutely no fear and did crazy stuff full of courage. I did not know of the number of Ghurkha regiments until 10 minutes ago.
{This added text written in 2023}
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Trigonal Pyramids –Tricorn Hat – Splitting Dream 27-03-2011
I am returning from a flight and arrive at the airport. There is a sense of extensive travel. There is an image of Rob. He is splitting in two, he has two heads. In my hand I hold the “reflexis” cube. In which I see this. This cube is an “impossible” geometric object made up of two trigonal pyramids to make a cube, the top surface of which is highly reflective.
I am sharing a flat with Rob. A man comes to fix his stereo. He is giving attention to his valve amps. He says to me with a wink that my type of amplifier is better. I comment that I only had to change the valves once. Rob’s amp has an element of show whilst mine is more practical. The valves on my amp are glowing.
Later I am going for a meeting and arrive at Oxford Street. I notice Rob heading to UCL. He does not see me nor recognise me. I am wearing sunglasses. I try to talk with him. All roads lead to UCL.
Then in another world Rob has willed himself into the court. He is in every room at the same time. He is dressed as a jester with a three-pointed tricorn hat. In one room he is multi-coloured in and other room he is black and white to match the black and white tiled floor. It is only since he has been split that he can do this. They are waiting for me.
Outside as I approach there is a cat watching some hedgehogs and rabbits play on the lawn. The cat pounces on a hedgehog and gets a “thorn” in its paw. I help it and get the thorn out; I say to it that it is being silly. It then watches the rabbits and pounces on one. It has a small one in its mouth which it is going to eat. I note this and move off into the court.
The dream the repeats itself several times, especially the bit about the splitting, the “reflexis” cube and the image of the jester like figure in a tricorn hat.
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Triskélion La Maison Dieu Dream- 4-11- 2011
I am flying over landscape after landscape watching towers made of rough-hewn stone being struck by lightning. One after the other they are ruptured and destroyed. They are of all shapes and sizes, some tall and thin others, stout and medieval. The scenes continue to unfold against the backdrop of a dark stormy sky. It seems to go on for ages.
I am aware that this is Liberation Through the Power of Intent in Action. In the dream I call up the card La Maison Dieu to view and I start to write poetry on the subject of it. It is important that people understand La Maison Dieu.
The scene changes and I am now floating like Jason Borne on the sea. I am in a space with no walls. In front of me is a three legged “wheel”, shaped like a Triskelion or three-armed swastika. It is very definitely a “wheel”, and I am looking at the central part. I cannot see any circular part yet there is a strong feeling that it is somehow there.
The parts of the “spokes” closest to the “axle” are red in colour. The parts further away are made of gold. There is no axle, simply a hole where the axle might be. The hole is circular. I am willingly tied to the Triskelion. The wheel starts to rotate in space and I with it. As the rotation speeds up, I start to merge with the Triskelion. I become it and it me. Now I can not be seen only the red and gold Triskelion spinning at a tremendous pace. This starts to move off through Space and Time. I have become the cog in the wheel.
Here is as excerpt from a much longer dream a so-called four pager.
There is a steep incline / cliff. I climb over the fence with my laptop and start to descend the cliff. The cliff starts to give way and I surf with it to the bottom. I am now in a dry riverbed. There is only a small amount of water. I follow the river under the motorway to a place where two rivers join. The is a black forest style house there. I go into the house. There is a fire burning on the hearth.
There is a small wooden chair. It has a solid back with two cut out shapes. I sit on the chair. It is someone else’s chair. I get up and sit on another chair. I put the other person’s chair up on a bed so that I can get a better look at it. As I do so I bang heads with whoever is on the chair. Slowly a cat materializes on the chair, and we start to have a conversation. There are a series of puzzles for me to solve in the house.
Out of the ceiling a construction comprising wooden squares suspended by string materializes forming a tunnel. I am to go up this tunnel. I start but because of the breadth of my shoulders I get temporarily stuck. At this point I can see a seminar where people are looking at a screen and there is an overhead projector projecting transparencies on the wall. People are sat around the table trying to understand the codes in the transparencies. I make my way to the back of the room and ask if the projector is in focus. The guy projecting adjusts the focus in and out. Those watching can’t solve the first riddle. I note that the first clue suddenly resolves into:
” SYNTHESIS”
We move on and a piece of Battenburg cake comprising four squares of yellow and pink appears.
It cuts itself into three equal sections roughly centred at the middle. I know that I am like the cake cut into three equal sections. This is my configuration.
I continue on, cognizant of the theme “needing to solve puzzles.“
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Dream ends.
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18 Flames – 17 Flames – Mossad Dream 31-1-21
Here is the first of last night’s dream which were had either side of a piece of very squally and stormy weather.
The dream is set in a hospital which is similar in feel to the one locally where I was admitted previously. I am sat up in a chair fully clothed and there is high technology medical apparatus around me. In the room are two young men in army fatigues and with weapons. They each have a western style assault rifle and a handgun in a holster. One of them has a circular close-fitting hat on and he has ginger coloured hair and freckles, the other is darker of complexion.
Suddenly out of the hat small blue flames, several inches in length start to burn in a circle round the man’s head. I count them and there are eighteen in total. I know in the dream that this man is my nagal’s courier and he is reflecting for me the eighteen blue flames of my courage.
I turn to the other man, and he has blue flames arranged in a circle too. I count these and they are seventeen in number. In the dream I am surprised because he feels like a southerly stalker and should by rights be a woman. It strikes me as odd. So, I think that he must be my courier to the Scholar representing the other part of my predilection.
I take note of the numbers 18 and 17, the jewels courage and discrimination or discernment.
Into the room comes a male doctor and two female nurses. They are all wearing white coats. They are going to take samples from me. I ask if I can have some local anaesthetic, some lidocaine. They say that it is better that I do not. The man does something and then I am moved away to another room.
The nurses do not get a chance to take their samples.
I am now in a large room with a single large table in it. The nurses are with me. I say that they can take their samples now. I take off my shirt and lie on the large table. They take out their instruments and cut several pieces of flesh from my right side. I have raised my arm for them to do this and do not flinch. They put the samples into sample bottles which then then put into the pockets of their white coats. They leave the room. I sit up on the table and put my shirt back on, there is no blood.
The ginger haired man from before comes in. He is now wearing a security earpiece wire. He says that he is from Mossad and here to protect me. He is now also wearing a Kevlar chest shield and has a helmet in one hand and assault rifle in another. He says that there are seventeen of his colleagues, also from Mossad, around the perimeter to protect me and keep me safe. I have been brought here for my own protection and together with the seventeen colleagues he makes eighteen all of whom are to keep me safe and secure.
Dream ends.
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Nagal’s Courier Dream 2-2-22
This is the first very vivid dream that I have had in a long while and on a morning with a whole heap of 2s.
I am at a small fishing port walking along the harbour wall. In the near distance I see a dark-haired man leaning against a parked Ducati motorbike. He is wearing leathers. I know this man to be A, a dreaming nagal’s courier. I approach him and say hi. He is very sceptical and not-trusting.
I explain that I need to make him aware of some things because there has been a lot of misinformation floating around. I say that when I stopped interacting closely with Théun my dreaming colour changed from indigo-purple to indigo-blue. The shade deepened and became much more vivid. I am certain that it meant that I was a second ray being an Elephant and not a Wolf. I ask him a metaphorical question, “How is your dreaming colour now?”
I explain that there is plenty of “evidence” from dreams and omens that I am a nagal being and not a Man of Action as Théun had suggested. I had been trying this hypothesis on, as is my want. The dreams both mine and the wife’s suggest that I am doubly severed and therefore a three pronged nagal being. Indeed, I had a traumatic experience entirely consistent with the second severing. My secondary predilection is for the East and thus I am a philosophical nagal and radically different in approach to Théun. A second ray dreaming philosophical nagal is an altogether different beast.
I say that in my opinion there was a whole bunch of stupid shit going on back in the day. I say that I have said what I needed to say.
The dream ends.
This dream follows on from an earlier one in which I was verbalising the rule of the four-pronged nagal for a bunch of students.
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Himalaya Foothills Dream 19-06-23.
Before the dream started, I had a very persistent thought form in which I thought “humanity is no longer Darwinian”. This seed thought pointed to the fact that the process of natural selection has been inhibited by modern life. There is no longer exclusively a survival of the fittest. Lifeforms which would have died out survive and the evolution of the human species is stunted. People in the west do not currently have to fight to live, they can eke and survive.
The dream starts with me looking down at my bare feet they are on a concrete floor painted a very deep shade of red and I am wearing loose weave ethnic trousers, of a magenta shade. I can feel the cool floor under my feet. I am indoors and the refuge from the heat is welcome. I am sitting in a wicker chair on a white cushion.
I stand up and leave my residence to go to the hotel / hostel which is downhill from me. I am in a small town on the side of deep ravine in the Himalayan foothills. I have been here for quite some time. I am at home. There are people milling about in the street. They are brown skinned with jet black hair and of slim stature. A couple of the children wave at me, they follow me down the street. There is a sense of accustomed play.
I get to the hotel and go up to the communal dining area. There people are making themselves a meal. It is all very ad hoc. I recognise some of them from London 20 odd years ago. Amongst them is Alexandros {nagal’s courier}. He is tall and has suffered badly from middle age spread. I motion to him and we go out into the small private garden. I ask him why he is here. He says that when I left ages ago, I told him that he should be sensible and keep safe. He has come with the others for me. We go back inside and there is an air of expectancy in the dining room. I leave.
I make my way back up the hill and try to cross a drain into a shaded porch area of an emporium serving tea. I struggle and nearly trip. A young Nepalese man (Gurkha?) grabs my arm and says, “you need to be more careful sahib.” I am a little surprise by his tone. He sits me down. It is clear that I am struggling to move and in some considerable physical pain. He says that we need to build up reserves because we are going to have to walk through the mountain pass at 3400 metres. It is a long way but we think that you can make it. The pass is to the North of the town in the dream. He says that he and his brother will be there with me all the way and that it is their job to guide and protect me. They have been assigned.
I step out onto what passes for the town square chiselled into the mountain side. I can smell the mountain air, rich and pungent from the plants on the mountainside. I can see the Himalaya massif resplendent in the morning light. It looks magnificent and formidable. Around the square a couple of light brown skinny dogs are playing in the shade of a tree.
To the side of the square is a small open stone wall. There are stones on top of short pillars. I go to sit on the wall and the Nepalese man comes and sits next to me. Down in the valley on a road winding up to the town there are several people and loaded pack donkeys. They are making their way; they are European and are assisted by locals. I recognise some of the Europeans. I ask the guide, “why are they coming here?” He says that “of course they have come to see you sahib. There will be others too.”
Dream ends.
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Rule of the Four Pronged nagal – Numerology Dream 17-08-23
Just because there was not enough weirdness already here is this morning’s dream.
The dream opens with a quintessential English village fete set in a green and sloping park. The park has trees around the circumference and is lushly grassed. There are stalls selling produce, a Tombola stand, a Pimm’s tent, bric-a-brac and an inflatable play area for the children. There is a small crowd of English people at the event. The atmosphere is summer and nice. Everyone is relaxed and there is a nice hubbub.
At the corner of one stand, I notice a talk young man with dark hair who resembles A whom I know to be a nagal’s courier. I go over to him to say hello. I say that I need to tell him about the rule of the four pronged nagal. He already knows that he is a nagal’s courier. He says that only nagals should narrate the rule. He doubts that I am nagal. His jewel is 20, honour.
I walk to the side of the fete near the trees. I hold his attention with my eyes. I run down the slope and take off flying down the slope and then back up to close to hum. He says, “that was stupid, everyone could see you!” I motion to the crowd they are going about their business as usual. I say that the display was only for him and his eyes. He says, “OK. I’ll buy it you are nagal.”
We head off into a European piazza, Italianate in character. There is much buzz. We head off into a taverna which is busy. There sat on a table is a middle aged balding ginger man. He is entertaining his table with stories. He does not look entirely well. I say to the nagal’s courier that he is a Man of Action. He replies that I should go and tell him. I say that it must be action. I take the courier down into the basement of the taverna and find the electricity distribution box. There are many fuses and interrupters. I flip the switches. The tavern and the basement are plunged into darkness. There is unease upstairs. I hear the Man of Action strike his Zippo lighter. He says, “don’t worry it was probably a fuse. I will go and investigate.” He comes down in the basement and sees us. He turns the electricity back on. We all leave the taverna together. His jewel is 6, choosing between the old and the new.
Now it is nighttime and we go into a basement nightclub. It is dark and smoky. It has seen better days and is seedy. On the stage is a cabaret. We sit at a table and order some drinks. On the table next to us an older man is being entertained by a hostess who is pouring him drinks and flattering him. She is a tiny black woman with an amazing architectural hairdo. She is wearing a skimpy red dress which reveals her athletic shoulders. From the way she moves to the bar she is lithe and a dancer. She is sat very close to me. I suggest to her without words that she must come with us. She looks over. We get up and leave the club, she follows. She says that she must get some things. So, we follow her into a catacomb where she lives. We go into a gothic chamber and she fills a holdall with clothes. I say to her that she is “bat-shit crazy” because there are bats flying about. She yes, literally. Her jewel is 5 need for freedom and change. She is as Westerly stalker.
We are now above ground in daylight. We go to a suburb near the sea, where there are three storied wooden houses of a classical Boston marine style. The place is ultra-tidy and serene. I select one house and go up the stairs. I pull the bell rope and a man in navy-blue shorts and a white polo answers the door. His short hair is immaculately cut and the creases in his polo are razor sharp. One the back of his polo is the number 2. He says, “hi we have been expecting you. Do come in.” He ushers us into a bright well lit kitchen with a blue and white nautical theme.
“I’ll just call my brother, my twin, we always do everything as a pair!”
His brother comes down and joins us in the kitchen. They are identically dressed. They stand with their backs to a white porcelain sink and ask us in unison, what would we like for breakfast. Their jewel is 2. They are couriers to the female East. I note in the dream that a pair of twos is a double whammy omen. Two is the need for humility and understanding or a hint of destiny. Given the context I favour the latter.
The flow of the dream goes South-North-West-East which I understand to be the flow of power, which is in the act of manifesting, that is one the verge of coming into manifestation. It is on the cusp of the dream.
Dream ends.
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Berne – nagal’s Insignia Dream – 27-04-24
I slept until 5:22 AM. This dream came upon going back to sleep.
I find myself in a seminar room sat in a partial circle of chairs without tables. Someone is giving a spectroscopy seminar on the screen. It is about some work being done at a German university. When the seminar is over, I go over to Sam and comment that it was a very nice piece of work to which he concurs. I know I am in Berne, Switzerland.
There is a short pause and the seminar reconvenes. I am wearing a blue-grey jacket much like the one I used to have. To this I pin my nagal’s insignia. I take it out of my pocket and pin it to my right lapel.
It is getting late. I have nowhere to stay. But I am pretty sure than I can get a hotel room on my credit card. I leave the seminar room and walk off into the Berne night.
I wake up noting that it is very unusual to have a dream with the insignia in. And wonder if it means that I need to be more proximal to one of the planetary centres, namely Geneva. I note that I have also spent time in London, Tokyo and fleetingly New York. I decide to try to return to the dream. Geneva is the francophone centre.
I am now in some shared house with a “Rayburn” style of heater. The pipes are all transparent made of glass. We are changing the thermostat setting and this causes the water levels in the pipes to change. I comment that it is a good idea to have these pipes transparent because one can see what is going on.
I then move into an office building. I meet the secretary which Sam had. I think about asking her if she likes dreams. I change my mind and say to her that I have something to tell her and Sam in private, namely the dream.
I move into an office full of Ph.D. students. I ask them where the post doc office is. They point me. I go in and it is full of people a few of whom are known to me. I ask where I am supposed to sit. Alan F sheepishly points me to a chair/desk in the corner. I sit down.
I say that because of the number of post docs Sam must be doing well.
One of the women, a senior post doc, asks in an American accent, “what the fuck are you doing here?”
To which I reply that I am slightly surprised too.
She says that everyone gossiped and ridiculed me after I left last time. I reply that I know because Wolfgang told me and that he was not happy with the behaviours of people towards me because I had been nice to him.
Sat around the table each of us have a grey carton.
“Today we are having oysters, huitres”, says one of the post docs.
“Not for me thanks I don’t like them”, I reply.
“Why?”
“They feel like catarrh from a bad head cold, a viral infection.”
“Can we get you anything else?”
“Just a glass of water please.”
“Won’t you feel left out?”
“No. Since the last time I was here I have done extensive meditation and am quite Zen abut most things.”
In front of me is a lab book and a fountain pen.
The pen is their “gift” to me.
I go to take the lid off the pen and try to use it. It is booby trapped and I get ink all over my hand and my mouth. I dip a tissue in the water and wash my hands with it.
“It looks like I will need to use a pencil instead of a fountain pen to write.”
There is a titter in the office.
I turn to use a computer and reflected on the screen I can see them reloading the pen.
I tell them that I am seeing them do this and that I am not a fool. I walk over to the main culprit. I place my left thumb firmly into the nerve point between his right thumb and forefinger and squeeze his hand. He drops the pen and grimaces in pain.
I explain that I am now 100kg because I have been working a garden.
They joke that British gardens are small.
I say that I have been living in France with a garden of more than an acre.
I say, « je peux parler Français ».
I do this is a very poor accent.
I go back to my accommodation. I note that I still have not written my dream and that this mocking “welcome” is a generic thing.
The next morning, I put on my grey camouflage trousers and vest. I attach the insignia to a piece of smooth string and pop it around my neck. It rests just under the top on the singlet in my chest hair.
I go into town towards the office. The woman and two other postdocs are at a cross roads.
We exchange, “morning”.
They are about to mock me for dressing as a soldier. I lift the insignia out of my vest to show them, knowing that in so doing I am making a powerful occult statement which they do not understand.
Before the dream started, I had a very persistent thought form in which I thought “humanity is no longer Darwinian”. This seed thought pointed to the fact that the process of natural selection has been inhibited by modern life. There is no longer exclusively a survival of the fittest. Lifeforms which would have died out survive and the evolution of the human species is stunted. People in the west do not currently have to fight to live, they can eke and survive.
The dream starts with me looking down at my bare feet they are on a concrete floor painted a very deep shade of red and I am wearing loose weave ethnic trousers, of a magenta shade. I can feel the cool floor under my feet. I am indoors and the refuge from the heat is welcome. I am sitting in a wicker chair on a white cushion.
I stand up and leave my residence to go to the hotel / hostel which is down hill from me. I am in a small town on the side of deep ravine in the Himalayan foothills. I have been here for quite some time. I am at home. There are people milling about in the street. They are brown skinned with jet black hair and of slim stature. A couple of the children wave at me, they follow me down the street. There is a sense of accustomed play.
I get to the hotel and go up to the communal dining area. There people are making themselves a meal. It is all very ad hoc. I recognise some of them from London 20 odd years ago. Amongst them is Alexandros {nagal’s courier}. He is tall and has suffered badly from middle age spread. I motion to him and we go out into the small private garden. I ask him why he is here. He says that when I left ages ago, I told him that he should be sensible and keep safe. He has come with the others for me. We go back inside and there is an air of expectancy in the dining room. I leave.
I make my way back up the hill and try to cross a drain into a shaded porch area of an emporium serving tea. I struggle and nearly trip. A young Nepalese man (Gurkha?) grabs my arm and says, “you need to be more careful sahib.” I am a little surprise by his tone. He sits me down. It is clear that I am struggling to move and in some considerable physical pain. He says that we need to build up reserves because we are going to have to walk through the mountain pass at 3400 metres. It is a long way but we think that you can make it. The pass is to the North of the town in the dream. He says that he and his brother will be there with me all the way and that it is their job to guide and protect me. They have been assigned.
I step out onto what passes for the town square chiselled into the mountain side. I can smell the mountain air, rich and pungent from the plants on the mountainside. I can see the Himalaya massive resplendent in the morning light. It looks magnificent and formidable. Around the square a couple of light brown skinny dogs are playing in the shade of a tree.
To the side of the square is a small open stone wall. There are stones on top of short pillars. I go to sit on the wall and the Nepalese man comes and sits next to me. Down in the valley on a road winding up to the town there are several people and loaded pack donkeys. They are making their way; they are European and are assisted by locals. I recognise some of the Europeans. I ask the guide, “why are they coming here?” He says that “of course they have come to see you sahib. There will be others too.”
Dreamyoga 