Here is this morning’s dream It is a dream of an altogether different kind.

The dream opens with me walking through the “heart” of London, the posh bits. I am with a young woman, late twenties perhaps, she is well spoken and upper class English in presentation. She is very small and petite, less than five feet tall and skinny / slim. She is smartly dressed with trousers and a blouse. She has short wavy very dark ginger hair. She is an academic of some sorts. Her father is high up in the church like a high bishop. We are walking though the grand architecture towards a park. It is similar in feel to the Albert Hall approach from the Royal College of Music. It is a bit like Carlton Terrace approaching the Mall and St James’ park. Although the park feels like St James’ it has the scale of Hyde. {On waking I looked at Horse Guards Parade on Maps and we are walking into the park from there.}

I am explaining to her that although we are accustomed to see certain things there are other things there, always present, and just beyond the sight of our normal day to day. We are largely oblivious to these sights and things. Yet there they are. She thinks I am being a bit silly and is humouring me.

We walk together into the park and I lead her between some trees and into what seems to be an open space. Slowly a small derelict structure comes into view. It is a house come temple surrounded by an ornamental moat with two small wooden bridge accesses opposite each other on the “island”. The structure is in disrepair and is overrun. It has a distinct feel of sanctum and temple. The moat is overgrown too. I explain to her that energetically it is vital that this spot, this place, be renovated and restored. She is not entirely certain if she is hallucinating or not. She has been to this park many times but never seen the building. I suggest that she simply absorbs and tunes in.

The scene changes and I am together with the woman again and she has brought several young people with her to help with the restoration work. We are heading there. I say to them that they need to use the toilet because there are none in the building, on the island. We will be there a while. Time passes differently there. They go to the public toilets in the park and we cross the bridge onto the island. I assign each of them tasks to do. First we must uncover the foundations so that then building can heal (itself). They get busy clearing scrub and rubble. They are all amazed that the building has always been there and that they have never seen it before.

The scene changes and I am again back at the building with Tim and another man of my age. They are people in positions of influence. I explain to them that they need to purify and wash. They must enact misogi. They are sceptical and say that they have no shower gel. I turn on the open air showers and say that they must strip naked. I hand them a plastic bottle of blue shower gel and they lather up and wash. Nearby joggers and walkers are using the park oblivious to what is going on, on the island. I do not need to purify to enact misogi. They find it odd that the joggers cannot see them naked in the showers.

I am now back sat on a park bench near one of the grand runs of white Regency housing terraces. It is a sunny morning. I am first told and then know that I have to let the vision come, to break through the mists into sight. Then I must allow the vison to aggregate. I must then carefully construct the vision. Whilst there is no rush there must also be no unnecessary delay. I must envision the vision.

The dream ends.

• Family legend has it that my father’s half-brother Colonel K Rees was Head of Signals London Station and worked out of Horse Guards Parade.