These dated dreams are presented in chronological order.
Three Golden Crosses – Science Museum – Caretaker of Knowledge Dream 18-06-2009
The dream starts with a vison of three golden and radiant crosses spaced equally on a golden-sun-like orb with a golden radiance.
I am then walking along beside a river dressed in my Yukata with some loose change in my hand. I come upon a family, and they are wondering about falling in the river. They have some shoes and I say that the ones with the heels are the best. Don’t worry about falling in the river you are very far from any waterfalls and the water is cool and refreshing.
The woman wonders if I am holding something back as all the gossip says I say that no I am not.
Then I am in the Science Museum. I am caretaker. What better place for me than to be the caretaker of knowledge. I go into a room and there are some beautiful postcards of Buddha.
I hear deep melodious voices:
“We knew when you first came into being all those millions of years ago that this is how you would always live. A life full of compassion and that you would always be a little mis-understood. A beautiful thing and that you would always do this for evermore.”
Dream ends.
Bakula – Buddhist Arhat – Dream 12-08-2011
I am in a roof top garden, there is some sort of party going on with loads of people sat around and at tables. There are people of many ethnicities from all over the world. They are dressed in brightly coloured “hippie” style clothes. As the party carries on, they draw a curtain around one part of the garden and gather around some Buddhist icons. A south American man there starts to do some chanting. I butt in with Tibetan deep voice chanting. They do not recognise me and are annoyed at my interruption. I point out to them that it is my garden which they are in. I strike up again and do White Tara. I need a drink of water before I can find my voice. After several cups I strike the right note and do some White Tara. Everyone joins in and after a while the party resumes happily.
The wife and I are in one segment of the garden when Anna L and a friend turn up. They have been travelling in India. She has remained pale but her friend has gone brown. She talks of her travels and I say that we will in time need to have a proper talk. She has something for me. At which point she shoots straight up into the air and then lands. She has brought many “ethnic”, clothes and trinkets.
Next I am on a mountain train. I arrive at a terminus in a hillside town way up in the mountains. It is very much like Nepal / Tibet / Bhutan. I get out of the train and wander along the high street. Turning instinctively to the right I go up a hill to “my” palace. Again, there is a vibrant garden with peacocks. It is “my” garden.
Later I make another journey on the mountain train and end up at another terminus. Here the streets are filled with market traders selling saffron and magenta clothes, together with gold trinkets and jewellery. I have time to explore. Everyone is trying to barter with the merchants trying to buy goods in various currencies. The merchants will not trade unless the currency matches the passport of the person trying to buy.
I am not interested in bartering and look on watching. Somehow, I am “in tune” with the locals. I wander back to the main street and notice various pins sticking in my back. Somehow, I am now in an off the shoulder robe. One by one I pull the pins out of my back. They are made of a very fine gold pin topped with a tiny ivory chess figure. There is a castle, a knight, a king and a queen. I have also been adorned with much golden jewellery.
I go into an emporium as I am pulling out these pins and sit down. I ask the shopkeeper about what has been happening. She says that they have done this to me so as to make me unattractive to the locals so that they won’t fall for me and want to have sex with me.
Anna L comes into the shop and sits next to me. We start talking about my palace. An old Indian man with very short hair suddenly starts to talk in a very proper English accent. He says that she holds for me a key and that we must find it. It relates back to 1773. He says that I must get back to Bakula.
We leave the shops and seek out the train station. “All trains go through Bakula”, says the station announcer. We look at the map and it is configured like this.
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Glowing Skeleton – Third Universe Dream 17-11-2012
Against a dark backdrop I see an image of myself as I physically am. I am superimposed upon a glowing skeleton which has bright pink, fluorescent blood vessels. It is living. The two images pulse back and forth in precedence of view multiple times. I hear the Vedic, “I am become death the destroyer of worlds.”
In the dream I wonder if this is a harbinger of my own death. It is not it of symbolic value.
Next, I am at a British Forces Veterans club. As we go in the door by poppies and balsa wood crosses there are a selection of old photos. One of them catches my eye, it has a striking resemblance to my father {He was lieutenant acting captain REME during the Malayan insurgency.} I ask if I may take the photos to look through. I do this and thumb through them several times. I can no longer see the photos.
In the same club there is a bunch of old women. They start talking about Watchtower magazine and mention numerology. The numerology of 5 & 9. I ask what she means by 9. It is aunty Vi {one of my father’s aunts}. Before she has time to answer I move off. One of the young men comes after me and says that aunty Vi was starting to perk up and to please come back and speak some more about numerology. I say to her that 9 means completion and that 5 is her number as a Westerly Stalker.
She is now standing by me as she was as a young woman with bright orange and pink hair.
I know that this world is an intermediate world between life and death.
I am now flying over a flooded countryside. There are two boys stranded on a car. They swim across to a camper van and scramble up onto it. The flowing water takes them over the edge of a waterfall. I see that they are going to land safely because a little winged fairy / sprite suddenly whizzes in front of them. They are followed over the waterfall by seven beautiful horses who are riding the sky.
I am back at home now and in my bedroom. My attention is drawn through the window to a nest. In the nest is a single crow. Through the mind link it says it has taken up residence for the duration.
Downstairs I bump into my niece. She starts to wrestle with me. She thinks that she has me pinned. I am much stronger than her and slowly break her grip. I pick her up and ask her if she would like my help.
I am then shown three worlds / globes in space. Written upon them in a flowing dripping pink lettering are:
The world of the starving spirits.
The world of the hungry ghosts.
The world of the in between.
I then “know” in the dream that this current universe is the third manifested universe. And that to understand the full nature of bardo and karma I will need to expand my consciousness so that it can stretch backwards to times of previous universal manifestation. This will ultimately be a part of my training….
Dream ends
* See Engine Rebuild -Seer- Past Lives dream later in the collection.
Imhotep Dream 28-6-2013 Leuven
We were staying in a hotel that once used to be a convent in Leuven…
I was there for a job interview with IMEC and got to see an ASML EUV lithography machine.
I am somehow on a river in which there are cars. They are all flowing towards a waterfall. I am somehow stationary. There is a bright red car associated with a woman. It flows over the edge and hits a rock. It is compacted and squashed. I can see it still bright red on the rocks below.
Somehow there is going to be a police investigation into this. I am at a gathering and everyone is wondering where the car disappeared to.
There is a gap in the dreaming.
There is a gathering and we are all sat around in a circle in front of a stage. We are waiting for the arrival of a female shaman / seer. She appears from behind the curtains. I can see her eyes and for some reason she homes in on me and start to look into my eyes. She then continues around the circle in a ceremonial way. I say partially under my breath “mutant”. The people all gasp. I have dared.
She comes back over to me and stares into my eyes. We lock in some kind of contest of wills and she turns into a naked child like figure with exquisite Egyptian features. “Imhotep” I say out loud and pointing at her. “You are a mutant of Imhotep and I have known you before. Why do you seek me again?” She is covered in fine black hair.
There is a gap in the dreaming.
I am somehow on a ferry. It is very large. There are people joining the ferry. One of them, a dutchman, says that he is going to run around the ferry to check its shape. There are four drums and some young people pop up to start playing drums. I start drumming with a chair.
Whilst everyone is looking at me a leather bound book appears. It is to do with my mystery. I know now that I have had Egyptian lives {plural}. The book starts to open and it says “Marchmont” {implicit house}. This is a part of my mystery. Very English and upper class. Everyone smiles.
I am now in a doctor’s surgery. The man there is taking blood via a phial like device in the fold of my elbow. He has taken a sample and having retracted the syringe he is waiting for blood to spurt. It does not. Whilst he is waiting, he puts two white fabric tags or plasters on my right hand. I have been “scanned” and must always wear these now. I must tell my next of kin and those in my will that I have had this scan. It is somehow related to genetics. He asks me if I have any living relatives. He comments that I am in a bad way and should contact them soon.
Dream ends
*This was before my cancer diagnosis in 2015
From Wikipedia
Imhotep (/ɪmˈhoʊtɛp/;Ancient Egyptian: ỉỉ-m-ḥtp “(the one who) comes in peace”; fl. late 27th century BCE) was an Egyptian chancellor to the Pharaoh Djoser, possible architect of Djoser’s step pyramid, and high priest of the sun god Ra at Heliopolis. Very little is known of Imhotep as a historical figure, but in the 3,000 years following his death, he was gradually glorified and deified.
Traditions from long after Imhotep’s death treated him as a great author of wisdom texts and especially as a physician. No text from his lifetime mentions these capacities and no text mentions his name in the first 1,200 years following his death. Apart from the three short contemporary inscriptions that establish him as chancellor to the Pharaoh, the first text to reference Imhotep dates to the time of Amenhotep III (c. 1391–1353 BCE). It is addressed to the owner of a tomb, and reads:
The wab-priest may give offerings to your ka. The wab-priests may stretch to you their arms with libations on the soil, as it is done for Imhotep with the remains of the water bowl.
— Wildung (1977)
It appears that this libation to Imhotep was done regularly, as they are attested on papyri associated with statues of Imhotep until the Late Period (c. 664–332 BCE). Wildung explains the origin of this cult as a slow evolution of intellectuals’ memory of Imhotep, from his death onward. Gardiner finds the cult of Imhotep during the New Kingdom (c. 1550–1077 BCE) sufficiently distinct from the usual offerings made to other commoners that the epithet “demigod” is likely justified to describe his veneration.
The first references to the healing abilities of Imhotep occur from the Thirtieth Dynasty (c. 380–343 BCE) onward, some 2,200 years after his death.
Imhotep is among the few non-royal Egyptians who were deified after their deaths, and until the 21st century, he was one of nearly a dozen non-royals to achieve this status. The center of his cult was in Memphis. The location of his tomb remains unknown, despite efforts to find it. The consensus is that it is hidden somewhere at Saqqara.
Seb. the Witch and the Monk Dream 18-08-21
Here is the first dream, a bit thematically diverse to the second one.
I am on a showground on a large country estate in England. Some kind on agricultural county show has just taken place. A few metres from me is Seb’s mother. {Seb was a tutorial client of mine.} She asks me how things are and welcomes me to their estate. I say things are fine. Up on the viewing stands Seb appears and says Hi.
Together the three of us walk of to the main house which is magnificent. They both go on inside and I meet Seb’s father who is dressed in a very English country gent manner. “Welcome back into the fold old chap. I say would you be so kind as to park up the mower and the small trailer?
I go back to the field and drive the trailer and then the mower into the internal courtyard of the house.
I ask If I should park them in the usual place.
“Yes, you remember where they used to go, don’t you?”
I drive them round to the barn storage area where I encounter Seb’s sister and older brother. The sister is in charge and the brother is her side kick. She says Hi and gesticulates into the barn.
I park the vehicles up and approach her.
As I get closer small dark smoky tendrils start to emanate from her and to a lesser extent her brother.
She says “Damn, that only used to happen when I was near that Christian monk from two lifetimes ago. The one who outed me as a witch!”
In the dream I know it was me who was the Christian priest monk she is referring to. She does not yet guess this.
Dream ends.
Prodigal Son – Rastafari Dream 10-01-22
Here is one of my three dreaming segments from last night…
I am sat with others in a circle on small individual chairs. The feeling is like some kind of group discussion / therapy. We are discussing the prodigal son. Fi gets up and says that the parable is all about profligacy and sin. She maintains that the son in question is wasteful and does not respect material things. I say that the prodigal son sees the lack of value amongst the material things after his many incarnations. He develops humility and is no longer drawn to the earthly. Hence, he returns to the father, the source. Nevertheless, normal humanity sees only the materiality and deeply resents the prodigal for wasting that to which they are attached.
A little while later I am walking through the centre and bump into a Rastafarian who is younger than me and has bright shiny eyes. He asks if I am the dude who defended the prodigal son? Yes. He asks if I know the true meaning of Melchizedek. Yes. I explain to him that for quite a while I was drawn to Rastafarian mysticism. He asks me to lend him a cd. I go over to my pile. We are now somehow in Brixton. I explain to him that I used to live here a long while ago. I shuffle through my CDs and find Prodigal Son by Steel Pulse. Jah Rastafari.
I move around the centre and am broadly accepted by everyone there. Words has gotten around about me. I try to leave the centre and follow a winding spiral staircase which goes through various flats. I arrive at a back door. I open it and step outside. Now I am being chased by a young black guy. I stop and say, “hit me if you wish. I meant no harm.” He considers this for a moment and then says, “nah, just don’t do it again.” He walks off.
In the dream I know that this is advising me that although the familiar is tempting going back to old haunts does not really work.
Dream ends.
Canal Boat – Reincarnation – Book Dream 19-4-23
The dream starts on a long canal boat on a canal and moored to canal side. The wife and I are asleep in a bedroom of the canal boat under a large navy blue blanket. We hear the engines start up and get ready to get up. In the distance a young woman shouts that we are getting ready to set off and that we had better get up. She jokes that we might be as old as the more than one hundred year old canal boat. I shout to her that if you consider reincarnations then I am a whole lot older than that.
A young woman with long black hair, the ends of which are dyed blue, comes into our room. Her hair is swept over her head from one side. She is dressed ethnically in loose harem pants with a tie-die chemise. She has a big shiny earing in her left ear and a nose piercing. She bounces into our room and onto our bed. She asks about the reincarnations and I know that she is bilingual, French English. She is French. I tell her that I “know” of five incarnations stretching back over two thousand years. I say that my book is due to be published in Paris in a few weeks’ time. They are detailed therein.
Her partner, a more masculine looking woman, with short blond hair in blue jeans and a white T-shirt is less convinced. We all move into the wheelhouse. I know that the two young woman are considering if they want me to assist them, a long established lesbian couple, with having a baby. They are unsure if they both want one or just one for the long haired one. Who I know to be a dreamer. The situation is amicable and we have all known each other for a long time. I am something of an older father figure. From the back of the boat, we can see the front of the boat slowly move away from quay side.
There is a young man with unruly black hair shipping the ropes back on board at the front and another man at the back.
They come into the wheelhouse and the more masculine woman tells him about the reincarnations. He grabs hold of my leg and starts to twist it asking me if I truly believe in what I have said. It is a kind of loose torture. I say to him that he may be small, fast, and agile but that I am way bigger than him and a whole lot stronger. I suggest that it would be better for him to let go of my leg. Which he does.
The young woman with the dark hair asks me again and I explain that one of my incarnations was Christian and two were Buddhist. I know that she has had various dreams and that she wants to talk with me about them in due course once the boat is underway.
Dream ends.
Vardyger {Vardøgr} dream 6-6-23.
Having just spent an hour or so fault finding with the satellite LNB receiver, it is back to the world of Vardyger. Strange, picking up microwaves for space and geo-stationary orbit one minute and “the double” the next.
During the night I had some problems getting off to sleep, this is not uncommon in and around the full moon. This one is also celebrated as Vesak in some places.
In the dream I am having a conference with several other “people” we are reviewing what is going on. I express concern that things are slow. The conference is not corporeal.
They tell me not to worry because the incarnation of the vardigers {or vartigers as I “hear” it} is now fully underway. My mind knows that this word means fore-runners or advance party in one sense. And that in a way I am a forerunner, one of the first of my ilk. It is strange in the dream that Asian “men” are using a Scandinavian sounding word. I am the fore or var, at the front and avant garde.
I sense that the implication is of some kind of harbinger and there are others.
It is made clear to me that I must remember the word and write it down on waking. It is very important that I capture the word.
In the dream I know that this is significant and of portent.
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As soon as I go downstairs and before I greet Bowie the cat, I scribble the word on a post it.
A little later I type vardiger into Google and all that it suggests to me is Vardøger.
Saffron Trousers “Muay Thai” – Reincarnation – Dream 10-07-23
Here is this morning’s dream.
The dream opens at the confluence of two rivers in mountainous terrain. The river beds are strewn with dark grey-black rock. The river levels are low as is the resultant river. It is clear that from time to time and in rainy season torrents flow. Around the rivers are dense rainforest like trees. I am on a “beach” to the side of one of the rivers. There is a sense of antiquity and of “ago”. I know that I am near a village which is on a major trade route into / across the mountains. It has been the scene of major battles.
I look down and can see that I am wearing only some saffron-yellow trousers. They are held up with a drawstring at the waist and the ankles are similarly tied. They are loose fitting. My head is freshly shaved and without hair. My body is Asian and early twenties. It has no body hair. I am of a slight yet muscular build. I have a tattoo of my left forearm which I cannot see. I am with an old man with white hair and wispy beard. He is dressed in cotton trousers and jackets. He is an elder.
I am not of the village but have been assigned to it. There is an upcoming festival and I have been chosen to represent the village. Tribes will be coming down from the mountains for the festivities, which will be extensive over a number of days.
I point at a red rock on the shore. I say to the man that this could be ground up for face paint. {My mind interjects it is iron oxide}. He says yes and notes it. He will send one of the women back for it.
He has in his hand a cane upon which is a small pad. I am now supposed to kick the pad as he moves it. The type of kick is a roundhouse. He encourages me to swing the whole leg and not flex it at the knee. {My mind interjects that this not like a Japanese roundhouse mawashi-geri but more like a Muay Thai kick}. He moves the pad around getting me to kick low and high. He says that I must focus on the thigh kicks as these will deaden the legs of my opponents. He says that this is a key part of Muay Thai. He encourages me to kick low very hard and fast as we move around the beach. This “way” goes a long way back. He then gets me to work on a front stop kick which prevents the opponent from getting close. He says that I should tap into the warriors of old from this part of the mountains. The tribes coming down are savage and ruthless so I will have to be on my guard and at my best.
He says that although I am not of the village as the Buddhist priest, I should know its ways.
I have worked up a sweat. He suggests that I dunk myself in the river. Which I do.
The dream ends as we walk towards the village and I am amazed at how this body feels in comparison to the one in which I am sleeping.
Dream ends
* I note than in my waking dreams of me as a Buddhist priest I had a Sanskrit tattoo of “om mane padme hum” on forearms.
This is perhaps my Thai Buddhist lifetime, one of three putative Buddhist incarnations.
Engine Rebuild – Seer – Past Lives – Dream 9-11-23
This dream was more detailed than I am able to fully recall. Here are the salient points.
The dream opens in my grandparent’s house in Trealaw near Tonypandy. We are all sat around in the bottom kitchen. On the floor is the engine from a VW beetle. It is no longer working. There is mayhem with coming and goings.
The wife and I set off to seek a mechanic to fix the engine and get it back into the car. We arrive at our local {French} mechanics and I explain to them what is wrong with the engine in French. The wife is with me in case I need language back up. I explain where the engine is located. The mechanic says that they will come over in a few days’ time. We thank them and leave.
We scout around looking for parking places on Trealaw road. There are none to be found.
We go back into the house and there is a young, tanned man in cotton trousers, cotton pants. He has no shirt or shoes. He has very long and very dark black hair. He looks to be Asian Indian. He is exotic. He tells me that he has been assigned as my brother and that he finds this unusual and does not like it. I say that this practice is common amongst the North American Indians and that I am there to be his guide. He does not like this. I shout at him a bit and say for him to wait, all will be revealed.
The dog does not like me shouting and goes to bite me. I offer it my clenched right fist which it puts in its mouth and bites down. It then shakes its head from side to side. I pick the dog up with my arm whilst it is shaking it. When the dog is close to my eyes. I look directly at it, eye to eye. The dog lets go, falls, whimpers, and runs off.
I the gather everyone around and suggest that we try to fix the engine ourselves. The scene changes to a basement garage reminiscent of the hot rod scene “Greased Lightning” in the film “Grease”. I lift the engine up onto a metallic work bench and we start cleaning and assembling engine parts. Here it gets very intricate. I can see exhaust manifolds, engine block, fuel feeds, spark plugs, cooling sub-systems and into the cylinder heads themselves. The engine block is transparent.
We are ready to go and start the engine up. I can see the fuel injection and combustion. There is a leak of petrol and the whole engine block goes up in flames. I smother this with a banket. We make some adjustments and start again. Now the engine is smooth and purring. Someone revs it. He says look that the engine is fit for a king and not a beetle.
An old woman and her helper walk into the room. She walks aided with a stick. She sits at the shiny metallic table. She is partially blind. The engine is stopped so that she can speak. The young Indian man comes over and stands by my side. He says that she is a seer of some power and renown. She has come to tell me about my past lives.
She asks me if I am sceptical. I say I know that I already have information on five of my past lives.
She says good. She tells me that she will tell me of my Mexican-American and Hindu lives. She intimates that the young man was a companion to me in each of these. I say that I already have a name coming through for my Mexican life, thousands of years ago. She says that in time it will be good to see if we concur.
First though she will tell me of my brahmin Hindu {Vedic} life. These are two more priestly lives. She intimates that in time the Hindu life will explain many other things.
Dream ends…I know I must wait.
Kālacakra –Black and White Umbilicus – Tantra – Dream 13-1-24
Before I begin, I swear I had no magic mushrooms or any other hallucinogen before bedtime!
Here is last night’s dreaming sequence.
I am with a woman in some kind of chamber or cave. She is heavily pregnant. I lay her down on a fourfold mandala on the floor. The design is very similar to this Kālacakra or wheel of time mandala. I know that this is of the deepest and most profound tantra. I align the woman North South on the mandala. I know that I will recognise the mandala if I ever see it again. It is imprinted in my consciousness.
A white European baby is born. It is pink-white and is surrounded by a glowing aura. There is no umbilical cord and yet it is called an umbilicus. The baby is pristine clean and radiant. It is naked and male.
Next a shiny obsidian black baby is born also with European features. It has an umbilical chord which I remove by hand. In neither birth are there any amniotic fluids or blood. The black obsidian baby is born wearing a nappy. It is also male. It is very shiny.
I know that the white baby does not need to be reborn. I know that the black umbilicus is tied to the wheel of birth because it has an umbilical cord.
One is good and the other is pure undistilled evil.
In the dream I know that I am a creature of the light and no longer bound to the wheel.
I know that at first evil is always strongly attracted to good, this attraction fades. I know that good is not attracted to evil it is simply not that interested, not bothered or enticed.
The scene changes and I am walking in a park with the black and white babies in a side by side push chair. They make an odd couple. One radiant auric white and the other deepest obsidian.
I come too and then drift back off.
I see an ethereal white figure. It has a quasi-human form yet it has wing like structures. It is floating suspended in the air. On its back between the shoulder blades is a tiny insignia like this.
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In the dream I know that the figure is an angel and that it is an angel of light and not of dark.
The scene changes and I am in a tropical forest underneath truly giant leaves. The sounds of rainforest are all around. There are drops of water falling from the leaf and landing on my head. I can see a tiny transparent circle appear in the leaf. There is a tiny window of transparency in the deepest green through which the droplets trickle.
I walk out from under the leaf and climb a little incline. From there I can see a most exquisite bird of paradise which had been “pissing” on me. Though the piss was spring water and not urine. The bird has exquisite orange and pink plumage on its head. The body and wing feathers are of a light emerald green and the wings are tipped with turquoise blue. The bird is pleased to see me and I it. We both stand there for a long time enjoying each other’s company and the fecund sound of the tropical rainforest.
The scene changes and I can see a man sat at a desk. On the desk is some parchment like paper, an ink well and a quill for writing. There is a small pile of books to one side. The man is clean shaven with fairly long grey hair parted in the middle. I know that he wears this in a ponytail or bob when out socialising. He has a kind European face and I know that his hair was once jet black. His eyes have a sparkle. He is wearing a white collarless shirt with the top button done up. The sleeves are blouson. This is informal, at home, attire. I know that the desk is mine and the man was me in my most recent life before this one. I am feeling emotional as I write this. I know his face now.
I wake up and think wow, I had better write that all down…
Japan and Dual Passport Dream 14-02-2024
My body was feeling a bit tired with “new” muscles after fitting the fence. This dream is out of the blue. A while back I had thought that one of my lives was as a Japanese Buddhist monk. That was until I had a dream pointing to Northern Thailand. This dream hints.
The dream starts with me in Tokyo. I am in a building which is a department store and I am exploring. On arrival at each floor, I am greeted in Japanese by a smartly dressed young woman in uniform and I respond also in Japanese. I remember just how tidy; how spick and span Japan can be.
The elevator does not reach the top floor so I climb a set of stairs. There is a well-equipped computer centre and it is filled with young Japanese gamers. There is much activity. I decide it is not for me.
I leave the building and walk the streets back to my hotel. It is a medium sized classical hotel. I have an appointment for dinner later that day. I enjoy my walk looking at all the kanji on the side of the buildings.
I arrived for dinner in a lightweight grey suit with black leather shoes. There are a few younger Japanese men, smartly dressed. There is an older man who is in charge, sempai. I sit next to him because we are friends. We discuss how the Korean mafia is taking over the production of advanced AI chips. He says that I am welcome to come there to work with them.
I say that is easy because I have a Japanese passport. I take my “red” UK EU passport and my blue five year biometric Japanese passport out and put them on the table to show him. I know in the dream that I have dual identity and dual nationality. In a sense I am part Japanese. I have been here before and lived here.
There is much conviviality and drinking. The younger men tease me about staying at a boring old-fashioned hotel.
Dream ends.
On waking I am reminded of my prior investigation into esoteric Japanese Vajrayana Buddhism. I am planning to start into the Kālacakra Tantra today but I will need some of ritual before I start.
Woman’s Body – Laceration – Painkiller Dream 16-02-2024
Here is this morning’s dream. It is my first in which I am in a woman’s body.
I am in a hospital which feels 19th century and the nurse’s uniforms are very old-fashioned. The word crinoline. I look down at my left foot. There is a laceration from the inside of my ankle over the top of the foot all the way around to the outside of my ankle. It will need stitching. The foot is not my current one, it looks feminine and small.
The nurse approaches with a needle and thread. She says that it is going to hurt.
I ask if I can get some painkillers. Yes.
I get up and walk towards the spiral staircase of our current house. As I descend the stairs there is an unfamiliar sensation in my chest. I figure it out to be breasts bobbing about as I go down the staircase. The sensation is strange to me.
I go into our current pantry and find a packet of co-codamol, paracetamol and codeine. I take one tablet out which I swallow with a glass of water. I put the packet in the pocket of my old fashioned nightdress. I go back to the staircase and ascend into the hospital ward.
I put the tablets into my bedside locker and get back into bed.
The nurse asks if I want some opium. I say no thank you because the tablet has started to work.
She approaches with some pliers and pulls back the toenail of my left big toe and then removes it.
She then starts stitching up the wound on my ankle. I can see quite a large needle and am aware that the thread has a wide gauge compared to modern synthetic ones. I look down to see her handiwork.
She applies a dressing and then bandages my entire foot up. She will check it in a few days.
I am lying in an old-school metal framed bed with a metal spring net for a base. The mattress is like the horsehair ones we had at boarding school. There is an odour of carbolic.
The nurse comes back some time later. She removes the dressing. The toe has healed and there is new nail on it. The stiches have vanished and there is a light pink scar where the wound once was.
The dream ends.
On waking I think that this dream has elements in which I can actually work with on myself. The possibility of a female incarnation in the 19th century is there but that is out of line with my current thinking.
13th Dalai Lama Dream 01-03-2024
Here is the second dream.
I am in a village hall here in Brittanny. There is an event going on organised by some of the British expat community. Sat at the back in monk’s robes is a man roughly my age with a small retinue. He is Tibetan. They are in monochrome. They are chatting amongst themselves. A woman turns to them and says to the man that he talks too much.
I turn to the wife and say that she has just told the Dalai Lama that he talks too much. He hears me and we lock eyes. He is grinning profusely and we both find the situation hysterically funny. He turns to his retinue and says, “The Dalai Lama talks too much!” They all giggle slightly because he is known for not saying that much at all.
In the dream I know that this is a previous incarnation of the current Dalai Lama. Because he looks different. I recognise him.
{On searching Google, it is the 13th Dalai Lama as an older man.}
The sense of fun at being told off we share is uplifting.
The scene changes and I am now deeper in the hall with the wife. I am making an herbal tea with citrus rind, bright yellow berries and ginger in a large Pyrex bowl. I pour this through a sieve into two cups. We go outside to let it cool.
I say that we have to go back in because the meeting is starting. We find that someone has tidied up our mugs. We sit down on a couple of chairs and the meeting kicks off in English. The expats are mobilising for some cause or other. They tell us we have every right to be there.
The scene changes and I am in a mountain {possibly Tibet} monastery. I am with a young boy aged around ten. We are in a bedroom and he is standing on the bed. He is of Tibetan origin with jet black hair. We are touching foreheads and playing a gentle game of headbutts with each other. His English is impeccable and I tell him so. He seems very familiar to me. We are having a great deal of fun.
Someone comes to the door and escorts us to a room with large step like seats. The boy instructs me to go some way up the steps and I am joined by the wife.
Some men come in and put a carved wooden chair on the floor. The boy says that the Dalai Lama likes to have people higher than he because it reminds him to stay humble. The Dalai Lama comes in and sits on the chair. The boy stands next to him. It is clear that they know each other well. In the dream I know that this is yet another prior incarnation of the Dalai Lama.
The scene changes and I am outside by the shore of a mountainous lake. I am sat with a young white American. A dharma bum. In the background the Dalai Lama is organising a spectacle a ritual with white flags and huge prayer wheels. There is a horse riding display. Implicit in the dream is that the Dalai Lama will see me soon.
I am talking with the American about the nature of reality. I say to him that I know that reincarnation is real because I have recollection of my prior lives in dreams.
As the dream is fading, I get a full colour image of the current the 14th Dalai Lama and a sensation of joining Ajna centres.
Dream ends
Tibetan Buddhist Search Committee Dream 29-04-23.
This dream was so out of the blue, unexpected.
The dream starts in the UK in England. I am hosting a personal development course in a country house with a large events room. We are sat in plenary in U-shape around the side of the high ceiling dance hall. It is ornate but now carpeted. A smartly dressed tall woman with a feint American accent and long blonde hair is speaking on a slightly raised wooden dais. She is using a long wooden pointer to point at a presentation she is making, which is running on a white screen.
It is time for a break before the final closing remarks and conference wrap up.
Everyone gets up for refreshments which are served in the antechamber. I walk through this into the back of the house which turns into a smaller building. This is where I have been living in the UK countryside. There is a wooden shed and outbuildings. I am checking on the content of these as we will be moving soon. Someone has started moving the items of furniture. I say to a woman there that she ought to have known better not to disturb my system. There is a symmetry to how I have fitted things in the shed. They only go in one way and must come out the reverse way. The passage to the shed is narrow and there is only one way to do this. I am slightly angry and the people are sheepish.
I return to the conference and it is over. Everyone has left, they are all people from my past in one sense. I have missed my chance to do the summing up and to thank the speaker. They have mostly left in embarrassment. The sense of embarrassment is strong and clear.
The speaker is now playing a video recording of semi-rural Tibet. The camera is running through the streets and I can see a large white and brown temple up on the hill. There are prayer flags and modern Tibetan people together with some more rustic “peasants”. I look at the woman and she has changed into an embroidered gold and red jacket over her novice nun robes. He hair is now short. I ask her about the video she says that it is of her people and that she has been working for them in making my acquaintance.
At this point a small party of people enter the room. They are all dressed in ceremonial Tibetan robes. These are very opulent. The embroidery is yellow, red, magenta, and saffron. It is ornate and slightly garish. There is a scent of incense accompanying them They are headed by a monk/abbot who is old and his right hand man who has jet black hair. In the entourage there is a western woman with a round yellow-red embroidered cap over her bald head. I recognise her as someone whom I have met in this lifetime. I go up to her and say, “I know you”. She winks, smiles and says that yes, I do and that she had been sent to observe me. Amongst them is a tall athletic Tibetan man who moves with grace, poise and style. I point my finger into his chest. I say to him, “you are warrior and fighter.” He laughs and says yes. We can spar later using traditional Tibetan weapons to see what I remember.
Now into the back of the room furniture is being carried in by hand. I know it to be of a ceremonial nature and his has been carried from afar. My eyes are drawn to a very ornate chest with meticulous cabinet work. It is made in the shape of a Welsh dresser with an upper cupboard. The wood is highly polished, perhaps walnut. The detail of the closures is in gold. It is a treasure and contained within it are relics. Although not visible to the naked eye, inscribed into the wood in “magic” lettering are some words in Tibetan script. The calligraphy is excellent and the downward strokes of the letters are longer and more artistic than is customary. They have been inscribed with flourish. There is a sense that the intense black calligraphy has been “burned” into the wood over the centuries and that only certain people can see it.
The carpet on the floor of the hall has been rolled back to reveal a parquet dance floor of some considerable sheen. Amongst the entourage I can hear gossiping. “It cannot be him; he is too coarse thickset and muscular.”
I hear this and whip off my shirt to reveal my muscular bare chest. I say that I will cooperate with whatever it is they must do. Take a look if you must. I am now wearing saffron yellow trousers, training pants, that are “elasticated” at the ankles. {See Muay Thai dream}I start to do a forward splits on the floor to warm up. I say that given I am nearly sixty I am surprised that being that old I can still do that.
One of the woman in the entourage says to me that I am much older than that both in this lifetime and stretching way back. I am nearly 73 she says. I do the mental calculation that I must have been “born” in the early 1950s. She says, “we tried to wake you five years ago”. You have been “asleep” and we have been waiting.
I briefly wake up and then drift off.
I am at an oriental Temple scene with ponds and in an immaculate garden. At first pass I think Chinese and then know Japanese. There are people there with round black ceremonial hats and flowing Japanese robes. I am poured into the pond as very large and bright, shiny goldfish. I swim in the Temple ponds and in the dream, I know that my second Buddhist life was Japanese. These ponds are my home, where I swim.
I the return to the hall in the previous part of the dream and the warrior comes into the room carrying some odd looking Tibetan martial arts weapons. Which I recognise. Some of the monks are now seated and are reciting mantra whilst thumbing through their prayer beads.
I have a very strong visual image of two yellow-hat Tibetan monks in full colour sat on a rock up in the mountains playing their long Tibetan alpine horns. That image and the sound persists even now. I can “hear” the horns inside my mind. They are precursors to a ritual, setting the scene.
I get up and greet the cat. I take my medication and put the coffee on. I sit down and start typing…
Dreamyoga 