Tag: Shamanism

Granny Was a Gwrach…

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Gwrach y Rhibyn

The legend of the cyhyraeth is sometimes conflated with tales of the Gwrach-y-Rhibyn or Hag of the Mist, a monstrous Welsh spirit in the shape of a hideously ugly woman – a Welsh saying, to describe a woman without good looks, goes, “Y mae mor salw â Gwrach y Rhibyn” (she is as ugly as the Gwrach y Rhibyn) – with a harpy-like appearance: unkempt hair and wizened, withered arms with leathery wings, long black teeth and pale corpse-like features. She approaches the window of the person about to die by night and calls their name, or travels invisibly beside them and utters her cry when they approach a stream or crossroads, and is sometimes depicted as washing her hands there. Most often the Gwrach y Rhibyn will wail and shriek “Fy ngŵr, fy ngŵr!” (My husband! My husband!) or “Fy mhlentyn, fy mhlentyn bach!” (My child! My little child!), though sometimes she will assume a male’s voice and cry “Fy ngwraig! Fy ngwraig!” (My wife! My wife!).

If it is death that is coming, the name of the one doomed to die is supposed to be heard in her “shrill tenor”. Often invisible, she can sometimes be seen at a crossroad or a stream when the mist rises.

Some speculation has been asserted that this apparition may have once been a water deity, or an aspect of the Welsh goddess Dôn. She is the wife of Afagddu, the despised son of Ceridwen and Tegid Foel, in some retellings of the Taliesin myth.

From Wikipedia

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If I were to show you the autocorrelation traces of two femtosecond laser pulses on an expensive oscilloscope in a dark laser lab it us unlikely that you would be thinking of the witch, the hag of the mist, Gwrach-y-Rhibyn. The two things do not correlate for most.

A part of my maternal family hails from Snowdonia, the foot of Snowdon,  in North Wales and the family legend has it that at least one of my maternal relatives, a granny of sorts, was a Gwrach, a witch, perhaps a seeress. In that context then there is a chance that I inherited the bloodline and hence the “gift” so to speak. As such it was entirely natural {and perhaps inevitable} that I would be interested in shamanism and shamanic ritual.

Of course in terms of someone able to write Fortan programs to calculate Franck Condon factors for anharmonic oscillator molecular vibronic photon excitations that seems far-fetched.

Contextually the vice versa might apply. Why would a shaman piss about with fancy lasers and science?

In Brittany there remains an interest in {and perhaps practice of} witchcraft. This is no way freaks me out. It is possible the practises here were sourced in the Welsh diaspora arriving. They are of similar roots.

I’ll speculate that a blog post like this would not enhance my promotion prospects were I still institutionalised in science academia.

I have always loved the mist and the fog. I nearly died on The Old Man of Coniston once. I was alone and following crows up a trail in the snow deep into the fog, alone on the mountain. It was exciting. Luckily before I got completely lost in the otherworld, I turned back. I have had much similar fun on Kinder Scout in dense fog. There is something womb-like and enveloping.

Of a still and misty night, when the full moon is partially veiled and you heard a voice at your window calling your name, what would you do.

Could you take secure refuge in the omniscience of your infallible reason?

Or would your blood run cold?

Candle Vigil – Koyaanisqatsi – Jaguar Shaman – Strange Group Dream 25-07-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ 1 Comment

Here is last night’s dream, strangely out of context with our current life and way of living.

The dream starts in South America on the mainland, perhaps Western Caribbean, on the connective peninsula. I am walking along a path cleared into the jungle at dusk / early night. I come upon a sunken built structure which has downward going stepped stone seating, a bit like a Greek theatre

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The construction is totally circular and the “stage” area is of the same grey stone at the rest of the amphitheatre. The construction is ancient South American, Maya or Aztec or some such. The radius is about 50 metres and there are at least half a dozen seating rows. It seems very familiar to me. On each step / seat is spaced a circle of lit candles in tumbler size glasses of various shapes and colours. There are hundreds of them. On the stage there are concentric circles of similar candles around a central circle empty void. The candles flicker lightly in the wind. I know this place to be a reliquary of living souls, each candle a spark of life. They have gathered to meditate on the state of the world. Against the darkened backdrop of the surrounding noisy night time jungle, here is a sanctuary.

The scene changes and I start to see scenes like from the film Koyaanisqatsi where rushing images of “normal” hectic life with its chaos and destruction are playing out on a “screen” in the mind’s eye. I hear chanting of Koyaanisqatsi over and over in a deep low voice as per the film. I know beyond any doubt that the world is badly out of balance, out of whack and out of kilter. The madness of the human “dream” is in full flow, justified to itself and thoroughly destructive. Unaware and largely uncaring. Caught up in a ceaseless rhythm of hectic.

The scene changes and I am now in a large open native kayak. There are two boats. We are paddling along the shore past jungle and two large settlements. It could be the sea or it could be a wide part of the Amazon River. We are around twenty metres from the “beach” and the jungle behind. I know we are being tracked and I catch sight of a magnificent jaguar easily keeping pace with our boats, jogging slowly in the forest. She is watching and observing. I can feel her muscles and see through her eyes. She is a totem of THE jaguar shaman, a spirit of the jungle, free and untrammelled. I see back through time to a ritual in a clearing of the jungle where I am enacting the convergence of the jaguar shaman. I have a jaguar pelt on my shoulders. As I enact I become and am the jaguar.

The scene changes to an urban setting; there are a group of people seeking to join or affirm their membership in a wider group. People have been accepted but must now make their public telephone call with their “mentor”. The sense of people wanting to be a part of is strong. I see one black man roughly my age make his call which we can all hear. In that the mentor slowly gets him to submit verbally. I think that this is coercive. Others make their call to belong to the “wonderful” organisation. The do decamps to a large pub near Hampstead Heath. People are queuing out of the door to buy their drinks. The black man is there and his mentor is going to buy him a drink, in a wait your turn fashion. I walk straight up to the bar and buy two pints of beer from one of the bar staff who know me well. I usher to the black man to join me in the beer garden. He follows and I explain that this has been cult like behaviour and he had better get the out sharpish.

The scene changes and the images of and sounds of Koyaanisqatsi close out the dream in a repetitive sequence.

The dream ends.

Soul Retrieval – Soul Disconnect

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I can make a statement here which will put me at odds with modern “scientific” thinking. It has no material impact on my life because it can no longer impinge on my academic credibility nor university career advancement. There is no way that I can prove this statement. The flip-side is that it cannot be disproved either, it can be designated anecdotal or opinion.

Since the early nineties I can recall instances where I have met “residues” of people who are no longer technically alive and incarnate. They have “visited” me most often nocturnally, sometimes in dreams but more in waking. I have had visitations in quiet places and times during the day. In most cases these individuals have/had some kind of bond with me and in others a strong sense of debt {karma}. They did me wrong.  These instances, whether real or imagined, have coincided with me teaching physics and chemistry at universities or high school privately. Some have been a once only short duration. Some of these have lasted days on and off. Other visits have had a duration of months with irregular and increasingly short visitations, until the visits stop. Some have seemed curiosity driven others by way of penance. Unfortunately, it is not possible to assist “people” to overcome problems which they caused. I cannot help them in their troubles. It is too late.

In some cases, where appropriate, I have done full blown Phowa practice, over several sessions, of visualizing a white Amitabha Buddha field for them and over them. A kind of spiritual WD40.

I had one visit last night. The sense of searching for me by this individual has increased over the last week or so. I do not know for sure if that person is dying, already dead or just having regrets. The feeling is that they are currently still alive in the mundane medical sense.

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In some cases, these visitations are soular, of the soul. In others they are more some kind of emotional / physical residue. At the consciousness level of souls there is a group consciousness. If you like, the white light diffracted into a rainbow, re-members that it was once a part of white light. Contact is soular and although wholly abstract the “brain” constructs a facial facsimile of the meaty body in order to “put a name and face” to the instance. After death these are nearly always more youthful than earth time / age would suggest.

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I have had shamanic training in so-called soul retrieval and have done a number of such rituals myself. The person on the receiving end always reported a pleasant experience and a feeling of being more “together” afterwards. There was an elastic snap of sorts. They seemed beneficial.

Technically speaking the soul cannot be lost from the form except in extremely rare circumstances.

The soul cannot be retrieved because it is the “real” you. It is never lost, it knows what it seeks to do. A reconnection with the wayward personality/meat vehicle might be achieved and enhanced, ritually, by magic. If the soul is fully disconnected that means death of the physical vehicle. A tenuous link can get stretched and the wayward personality vehicle disobey the soul or inner being. A weakening or very weak linkage might allow the soul to wander far from the vehicle on the soular or buddhic plane / level of consciousness. Space in a Cartesian sense does not have meaning thereupon. Geographic, earth bound distances, are no barrier.

The fact of a wandering soul suggests that its control or infusion of the physical personality vehicle is failing. The in toto being is not listening to its soul, its inner-tuition and is governed by materialistic personality whim and desire. The soul is losing the fight and may cut short the life, to wipe the slate clean and start again. The will, the stubbornness, of the lower carnal vehicle is simply stymieing the soul’s learning journey.

It is dark to prevent the soul from imbuing matter. The materialistically oriented personality vehicle thereby lacks a connection to higher purpose and hungrily consumes as an ersatz. This never satisfies for more than an instant. Dissatisfaction pervades.

Often the soul demands things which are inconvenient for the socio-political consuming materialistic vehicle. The small inner voice of calm is ignored and drowned out. The connection to the con-science, that which understands the higher soul group weakens. Behaviour deteriorates and becomes ever more self-centred. The illusion of ME grows more concrete.

The soul is disconnected. The soul is not lost but the vehicle is. Soul retrieval is a misnomer, a reconnection with personality vehicle is better terminology. The stronger the connection, the more profound the infusion by soul, the clearer sense of purpose the in toto being has.

If you, in honesty, are going through the motions of life, then you are not allowing or following the guidance of your true self. The soul.

Entrepreneur – Consciousness Studies – Dream 16-04-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 3 and 6 AM.

The dream starts in a non-chain coffee shop similar to one I once went to in San Jose. It has a Berkley – San Francisco feel. There is wooden panelling and stools up to an island style table. They are the same height as lab stools but out of wood with an inbuilt orange-red “cushion”. I am with a young man {~40} who is very excited and energised. He is dressed smartly and known to me though I cannot see who he is. We are to meet an acquaintance of his who is some relatively big shot tech entrepreneur. He is wealthy and now investing.

A man comes in with a small entourage. He is wearing a dark suit with unruly black hair. His shirt is unbuttoned. He spies my companion across the room and motions for his entourage to be seated. He comes over. My companion gets up and they great each other profusely as “bros” in a transatlantic accent. The entrepreneur is also in his 40s. He sits on a stool opposite me and has the air of someone in a rush used to not wasting time.

My companion introduces me as the ex-academic mystic he has been talking about. The entrepreneur is setting up some kind of endeavour looking into consciousness studies. He asks me how I got involved. I explain that my first formal introduction into meditation was during Kyokushin Karate training and the zen meditation therein. I demonstrate a brief series of karate style chudan-ski punches. I explain that I looked into shamanism. And that later I did some very pioneering meditation.

The man decides that he wants me “on board”. I know in the dream beyond any doubt that he has not the faintest idea what he is letting himself in for nor what I am capable of. He has no clue what I am. He is completely unaware of his ignorance and full of bluster.

The scene changes and I am now in a red brick UK mansion in an upper floor large room. The entrepreneur is sat there with some of the people he has gathered. I am there too, near a large sash window. I am standing. A part of the motivation of the entrepreneur is to understand his father, his meditation and what has happened to him after death.

I look out onto the lawn and sat there cross legged is a large white man with a complelety bald head and a massive ZZ top beard. He is meditating in the light rain, his hands in mudras in his lap. The sun is behind him and I can see at the far end of the lawn a faint rainbow lit up in the rain. The man on the lawn and I know each other well. We go way back, lifetimes.

The dream ends.

Separate Realities…

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

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

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

From Wikipedia

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

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

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

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

Author / Contributor

Castaneda, Carlos, 1953-

Title

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

Publication Information

Ann Arbor, Mi. : University Microfilms, 1973.

Type

Dissertation

Physical Description

360 pages ; 21 cm

Language

English

Dissertation

University of California, Los Angeles

Local Notes

Second copy is photocopy.

Subject

Witchcraft — Mexico

Sorcellerie — Mexique

Witchcraft

Mexico

Genre

dissertations.

Academic theses

Academic theses.

Thèses et écrits académiques.

Identifier

OCLC : (OCoLC)04246628

OCLC : (OCoLC)ocm04246628

MMS ID

999650393606533

Source

Library Catalog

Former System Number

965039-ucladb

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

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

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

Visions or Visual Hallucinations?

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If I understand it correctly the phenomena of visions plays a role in many religions. Things can be revealed by beings such as angels. Those prone to visions have been prone contextually to dreaming too.  

My general understanding is that angels are rare and play only a very important pivotal role in the religious context. They do not appear to common or garden people despite what many a new age book suggests. Helping you find the man of your dreams is probably not high on their to do list.

{I am generalising widely}.

Yet seeing something that others do not is classed as a hallucination, which can be a symptom of psychosis. Many of the figures in religious history might be diagnosed as having an episode of psychosis today.  They could be locked up and given anti-psychotic medicine.

In indigenous cultures going on a “Vision Quest” might be seen as a rite of passage. Isolated from the day to day and the tribe an individual seeks a vision of the future and his purpose. Visions can be had in caves, on high mountains. Usually, one has to step away from the mundane noise of life, maybe ease off the food.

I have participated in shamanic drumming and gone on a mini-vision quest. I can also use £250,000 femtosecond pulsed optical parametric amplifiers. It is possible that I am unique in this, there may be others. In non-linear optics world it is probably best not to talk about shamanic vision quests it could have a detrimental impact on promotion and employment prospects. So, many may have kept schtum like me.

It could be argued that I have relatively pure Welsh indigenous blood from the matrilinear line based in deepest darkest Snowdonia. As an indigenous it is not so weird for me to do indigenous things.

Anyway, I have had a number of visions over the years including when I lived in Brixton and was an academic. Needless to say, I told no colleagues nor a GP. This primarily because I always knew that I was having a vision/hallucination and was aware of my physical plane surroundings in day-to-day world at the same time. They did not overly impinge, nor were any of them frightening. If you speak to a medic about this kind of thing you could be opening a Pandora’s box and be exposed to pet theories and the latest pharma sponsored medication.

My working hypothesis concerning many of these visions is that most fall in the category of past-life recall. Some might think me whacko or that I have delusions of grandeur. People can have very closed minds.

Back in the mid seventies I used to travel by airplane from Zambia to school in Gloucestershire. There were six flights a year and by the age of 13, in the 1970s, I had 150,000 air miles. I am guilty about my childhood carbon footprint 😉. On occasion there would be a fuel stop at Malta. Each time I landed there I had a massive déjà-vu. Without knowing why, I knew that I had been there before.

This morning around 6 AM I was not sleeping so I started to do a meditation. For whatever reason, I was having difficulty and I started to have a relaxed enjoyable vision of myself in a cowled cloak and chain mail. The setting of the vision was around 800 years ago. I was aware of the vision and the bedroom. I could hear the wife breathing.

Why this is happening now I don’t know. It did point me back to a vision I had in 2003.

The vision last night may refer to “the knights of Malta”, a term used in Brittany for both Templars and the Hospitaliers, Ordre de Saint-Jean de Jérusalem.

I have had many visions associated with this putative life, a French one.

Nearby there is a hospitalier commanderie whose records do not go back past 1313 when the goods of the Templars were ceded to them.

There was also relatively nearby a Templar commanderie and the relics of a small church. The look of which is not far from one I saw in another vision.

What would you do?

Would you tell your general practice GP doctor?

Would you tell your line manager at work?

Would you imagine yourself off your trolley?

Or would you think that the sanest hypothesis was past life recall?

I am quite looking forward to seeing what may or may not happen over the next day or so…

Taoist Attack / Zen Dream 8-5-21

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I am aware that someone, or some people known to me are projecting a malevolent energy in my general direction. I know that this is of Taoist internal arts origin and that the projector(s) have some proficiency in this art. It is shamanic in origin and emotive of bent. They are angry with me and wish me ill. It is not clear if they are fully conscious of the sentiment of malevolence which they are projecting at me. It is nasty and not aligned with the true Tao it is a perversion. In the dream I know that I must not react to the sentiment. I must metaphorically sit in seiza and allow it to flow over and around me. I should not make any effort to reflect it back to sender just simply let it pass. I must not get drawn into their emotive game. I must be zen-like and calm. They are being immature and very petty.

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Y Ddraig Aur – Golden Dragon Dreams

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The alarm goes off.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I replay the entire dream several times in my mind.

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

Metallic Dragon Dream 25-2-13

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dragon = Power / Magic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dream ends.

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

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Three 14th Dalai Lama – Karmapa – Dreams

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Karmapa / Dalai Lama Dream 7-9-2012

I am in my nan’s house when two large limousines pull up and out of them come loads of Tibetans together with security who set up a perimeter around the house.

One of them is the “Dalai Lama”, another is a doctor / healer and a third is a guide for protocol. The DL has a hooded cowl over his head. They all enter into the house and we go upstairs to my grandfather’s room which is in the centre of the three story house. (I used to gaze out of here across the valley to Clydach when I was young)

They all sit down on the floor. The doctor wants to take a good look at me naked. So, I strip and he goes over me examining me very thoroughly. He seems to be satisfied. The DL is sat down on the floor. I am sat on a chair. The protocol man says that no-one should have his head above the DL. So, I sit down on the floor next to him. He removes the cowl from his head and looks me direct in the eye. He is a Tibetan man with very dark hair and roughly my own age only a bit younger. I refer to him as Lhamo only he isn’t the man who goes around as the DL, he is too young for that.

He says to me; “Can you empty your mind?”

I shift quietly and quickly into a deep meditation.

“Of course you can!” He says smiling.

He says that he has been interested to read what I have sent them

“First let’s do a little healing for someone…”

He hands me a small object and asks me to concentrate. Out of the object I materialise a scorpion.

“Detach the scorpion and you will heal the person…”

I detach the scorpion with a little difficulty and throw it into the fire.

Looking out of the window we can see that some people have turned up. The DL is used to this and he motions to security to remove them gently.

Back in the room the DL says jokingly,

“It is always fun to do a bit of shamanism, isn’t it?”

I sense that this has been a test.

He then shows me his back. It has black marks upon it. “What are these he asks?”

I say that they are bones

“Yes, I can express my bones through my skin. It is a part of the martial arts we do in Tibet which can be very deadly…”

As he speaks pins come out of the “bones” on his back.

He brings in three security guards who are dressed in brightly coloured robes. They are all trained in this. They are a mixed bunch, tall and with poor teeth. They all have a glint in the eyes.

“They are very fast and would probably win any Mixed Martial Arts contest. We have thought about entering them just for fun but thought better of it. You are trained in martial arts too, aren’t you? Perhaps you too are deadly?”

“Maybe…”

We are then in mind to mind contact for a very long time. After this he rummages around in a cupboard and sees artist’s materials there. I hand these to him and he starts to make an elaborate construction.

My aunt is downstairs. I explain to her what is going on.

Back upstairs the DL is busy building his construction. He asks me to put the fire up one level. He is a little cold. (Implied it is cooler here than in India)

The security guards come in and say that people and the press have started to gather outside the house. I have no idea how long we have been talking, perhaps days.

They decide that they will go out the front door and not the back one. Security goes out and brings around the limousines. The DL who is really the Karmapa, or a mix of the two, says that things will now really start to change. I go with them to the door and the press are there all flashlights and cameras. There are metal barriers and police to contain the crowd. The Karmapa gets into a car and they drive off.

The press interviews me wanting to know what has been going on.

“He came here for a chat and for one of the doctors to look at me. It was all very nice,” I say.

Now I am somehow back in a city. The ex-wife is for some reason around. She has heard about what has happened. She asks if I can bring her some chilli on my way back from town. I am on a tube train and footage of the visit is being played on a TV screen in the carriage. A small Ethiopian looking man is there. He says,

“That is you in the footage, isn’t it?”

“Yes”

The whole carriage turns to look at me and the footage.

I am now living on a small country estate. There are two male lions prowling around the front gate for security.

I go outside for a wander. I see a small crowd and they start to throw silver CDs at me like discuses, the intention is one of harm. I turn my back on them and by using “the force” block the CDs causing them to drop to the floor. I then fly over them and up into a truly massive tree. I then fly back into the house.

In an annexe, a type of out building for the main house, the “Toltec” group is gathered. I am now moving rapidly through the house pushing open doors as I do. I am going to give them a piece of my mind.

I go into the room and they are all sat upon chairs around the outside of the room, in a “circle”. There are many familiar faces there. I speak to them about my life path and what it means for them. {implicit is that it is very important for them} The ex-wife is in the audience and all she wants to know is whether or not I got her chilli.  This typifies the mood and even when they are shown footage of the DL’s / Karmapa’s visit and him leaving my house, they are unmoved and disinterested.

Later I am outside by a rubbish heap. I meet again the Ethiopian man only now his head is much larger.  I understand him to be a knowledgeable being. He tells me not to be worried and that he too cannot believe what he has just witnessed in terms of their arrogance and utter stupidity.

I now realise that the being I was interacting with before was definitely the Karmapa, who is known for his magical capacities.  We are now linked.

He says,” Things of true importance are always revealed in dreams and visions…”

Dream ends.

Karmapa Dream 27th June 2014

Here is my dream from 27th June 2014.

It starts in a mountain setting. The wife and I are walking along a ridge either side of the ridge the mountain falls away into azure blue mountain lakes. There is no vegetation. The air is crisp and clear. We arrive in a small mountain village and go to our hotel.

Some while after, when we have settled in a young female child comes to visit us. Her eyes are most striking. They are blue despite the fact that she is Tibetan. I tell her she has beautiful eyes and she giggles happily. She says that the Karmapa will see me now and that I am to come to the monastery / palace for instructions. She skips off. She is the Karmapa’s little sister.

That night I go out onto the mountainside and see there the fish rearing pens. They are full of young hatchlings, which are moved from one pool to another as they mature. They must be raised like this otherwise the culture will die out. They change colour as they grow and mature. The pools are guarded by a Tibetan fish stock man who is dressed in traditional ceremonial costume.

I put my hand into the water and the fish swim to it.

The next morning, I go to the palace / monastery and am shown in. Before long I am in the presence of a young man. He shows me around and tells me that they have many visitors. He is wearing monk’s robes. He shows me a long object shaped like a barometer which holds important “relics” in it. It is a staff of office and is “magical”. He lets me take it out of its box and handle it. He repeats,

“We have had many visitors, many delegations…”

He watches how the staff interacts with me. It accepts me.

We must now get you ready to meet the Karmapa, you can meet him here at this mountain cave. He points at a map.

“You must come here at 2AM tomorrow morning. “

“Will you be OK walking in the mountains in the darkness?”

I reply,

“Yes! I was born in the mountains. I will meet you there!”

I know that the young man is in fact the Karmapa.

An older more wizened Tibetan then comes in to speak with me. He is shortish and thickset. He is a combination of Chöje Akong Rinpoche and Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche and his appearance flits between these two.

He shows me a map of both the front and back faces of the mountain. It is in relief. I can zoom into the map to see the detail.

He makes emphasis on a little cabin. This is where the gatekeeper is. He keeps the keys. You will need to get a key from the gatekeeper before you meet the Karmapa.

In the dream I know it will not be the Karmapa who I will meet at the top of the mountain but the Akong / Trungpa being. I say that I will meet “them” there as they are the gatekeeper. This is a non-verbal communication “mind to mind”. This man is insistent upon the protocol, the tradition. The Karmapa however has already seen enough. He is satisfied.

The young man is now sat between two others, one of them is the Akong / Trungpa being. The Karmapa is reciting the mantra “Om Mane Padme Hum” quietly. He looks at me to see if I join in, in deep voice, or not. I do this in my head only. There is a silent acknowledgement between us that he can “hear” me doing this.

I walk out of the palace / monastery with the sensation that the Karmapa is in need of a friend. There is now a sense of inevitability “it” has now changed to when and not if.

Dalai Lama-Karmapa-Gandalf Dream 16-12-21

On top of everything else I have just had this whopper of a dream.

I am sat in a fairly sparse room somewhere in Northern India. It is one of the outbuildings to the complex of the Dalai Lama’s residence. I know this dream to be deep into Vajrayana and so I am already anticipating that things will get a little strange.  I go to the door of the building and a small red model car pulls up. It is like an open top version of a modern VW beetle. The car is just big enough for one and the exterior if a very vibrant deep red. The inside is a very dark black. I know the car to be remote controlled. I am being summoned.

I get in the car, and it sets off. It drives me around the building and then up a very steep and very prolonged staircase which it glides up. It then makes a sharp turn and heads into a building. It takes me into a room in which seated in meditation is the Dalai Lama. I get out of the car, and it vanishes.

The Dalai Lama then says, “we have been wondering what to do with you. Please take a stroll with me.”

I accompany him outside and there is a tower like structure in front of us. Near the top there are a pair of white feathered wings. He says, “they are yours; you know. Go get them.”

Instead of climbing up the tower I simply will them down into my hands. I hold them and I integrate them after which they disappear visually, but I know I have embodied them.

The Dalai Lama then berates me a little for being too cooperative and nice. He says that I am too apologetic.

He says that a man must have personality and presence in order to succeed.

In the distance inside his enclosure there are a number of wolves and a male from that enclosure is looking directly at me from a distance. We lock eye to eye.

I then say, “the Dalai Lama is sixth ray?”

“Yes, ask me and you shall be told…”

I think to myself that this is unexpected, a six ray Dalai Lama. Then on reflection why not. Why else would he keep coming back?

We re-enter a building and there are now a number of monks around. One of them is spilling milk on the floor. He is making quite a mess.

We enter the Dalai Lama’s room, and he tells me to clean up the mess. He hands me a small rag. I go to the room and instead of doing it myself I tell one of the others to clean up which he does.

The monks come in and start to kick me.

I sit down, cross legged, now dressed as a Tibetan monk. I put my hands into the thumb touching mudra and start to meditate. The monks and their blows disappear.

I then find myself dressed normally in a room full of monks. They are all sat around a throne upon which sits the Dalai Lama. I am sat next to a young man dressed in robes and with a shaven head.

He says, “do you know who I am?”

“Yes, you are the Karmapa.”

“Do you know who I am?

“Yes, you are the one we call Gandalf. Will you help me?”

“Yes, in any way I can”

We both adopt the hand position of offering and touch our foreheads together.

I awake and think that after a dream drought and with everything else going on that was a veritable whopper.