Tag: shit tip

nagal’s courier – massive shit tip – dream 23-10-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is last night’s dream had after 5 AM.

The dream starts with the wife and I paying a visit to C whom I know to be a nagal’s courier by predilection. He greets us at the door to his house and invites us in. It is in the UK possibly London. The house is a complete mess, a massive shit tip. The place is in disarray with stuff scattered all over the floor. The kitchen is dirty and very messy. There are plates and saucepans unwashed. C himself is looking shabby and a bit fucked up. He does not look well.

I sit him down and start to clean off a metallic roasting dish. I scrub it in the sink until it is clean and shiny. I then place in it from my satchel a whole oven ready chicken. I add some roasting vegetables and turn the oven on. C says that he would like me to do two chickens if they will fit. That way he will have something to eat after we leave. I start cleaning up the sink and find in there another roasting dish which I chip the debris off and scrub clean. In the fridge wrapped in plastic is another chicken. There is nothing else. I check the use by date and it is ok. I place both roasting dishes in the oven to cook. I take a third chicken out of my satchel. It is plastic wrapped and in date. I put it in the fridge for later.

While the food is cooking I go to the bathroom. It is a mess. There is a “Karcher” style high pressure hose there and I start to pressure wash the mud and “shit” off the walls, the sink and the bath. There is a walk in shower and I wash the debris down the plughole. Slowly the bathroom appears.

I go back to the kitchen. I ask C how come he let thing get into such a state, such a complete shit tip? He shrugs his shoulders sheepishly. I know in the dream that this is because he made a big mistake concerning how he interacted and treated me. I say to him that soon there will be some food and that he needs to take better care of himself.

As I am coming to, I think “not another mess, shit tip dream pertaining to mess made by others!”.

The dream ends.

Covercule 18 – COVID 19 -“they”- British Expats Dream 15-08-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

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De baard maakt geen wijsgeer; anders was er de bok goed aan.

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Here is this morning’s dream sequence.

The dream starts with me talking with a young medical practitioner. She is an advanced nurse but not a fully qualified doctor. She is wearing very dark blue scrubs and has an identity lanyard around her neck. We are sat at a hospital dining facility come café. I am talking with her about my philosopher’s chin. I have a habit when pensive of sometimes gripping my chin with lightly with my right hand and stroking the left side of my chin with the right index finger. I say that nearly every night just before I go to sleep it itches where the finger goes a little and I give it a brief scratch. It is a part of going off to sleep of a night.

She says that there is no need for concern. I was already unconcerned. She says that it is my covercule 18. The phonetics of the word covercule are explicit. That covers my 18. The philosopher’s chin.

She says that ever since COVID 19 humans have become split. There are those who believe and trust the medical profession and those who prefer half-baked conspiracy theories and internet remedies. “They” are more consulted and believed than is warranted. I say that given my chemistry background I tend to trust vaccination and think of the medical profession not as deity but qualified, trained yet human professionals. I note that not everything they say is evidence based, some is still anecdotal. She agrees that medics are not infallible. I say that I have the courage 18 of my own convictions and am not readily swayed by the advice of “they”.

The scene changes to a small town square in France. We have been considering a move back to the UK and have been chatting about this with some British expats. They point us towards a car parked on the square in which are two women. The window is wound down. I approach and speak with the woman driving. She says that if we are going to rent or buy a property in the UK there is some anti-squatter documentation that we need to fill in. We need to engage the services of a security company called ON. The documents are back at their place.

The wife and I go to their home. The relationship between the women is unclear, query lesbian. We go in and one of them retrieves a document from the office. I am sat at the kitchen table now without a shirt. In the sink are a pile of dishes from the night before. The wife and I exchange glances. One of the woman goes to find a pen. There is other debris in the house. It is a bit of a shit tip yet these women are claiming to be experts. Their house is not at all in order. I have my cheque book out and have started to fill out the form. The woman says that I need to write a cheque for £100 to the security company. Everybody knows “they” say that it is a good idea. I am unconvinced. I motion to the wife and we leave. The women are not happy and entreat us not to miss out. I doubt the wisdom of “they”. They live in a shit tip.

The scene changes and now still in France I go for a walk along the canal. It is early autumn and the canal-side plants are grown green near waist high. It is difficult to see the gravel path. I step off the tarmac road onto the path. I walk along the canal. In the distance I can see a young French man fishing with a roach pole. He has two light brown mongrel dogs of medium size with him. I see by the canal a discarded round warning road sign, which I pick up. As I approach the youth, he makes a playful dog yapping and barking noise to suggest that the dogs will do this. He and I lock eye to eye in mirth. Sure enough as I approach the dogs bark and yap around my legs. I steer them with the road sign using it as a shield. Once passed the dogs return to the fisherman.

I find a path off the towpath up and around the small road bridge over the canal. Aside the bridge is an old toll cottage. I knock on the door and it is answered by a middle aged, fat balding British man in shorts. Over the stable half door I pass him the once discarded road sign which he adds to his collection. He thanks me for helping him stay useful and for adding to his collection.

The dream ends.

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* Because of where I spent a fair part of my childhood I was exposed to expat {British} communities. I saw the shenanigans and how some struggled with living far from home in a quasi-incestuous partially suffocating community. I am therefore naturally sceptical about expat “wisdom”…

St Germain – Imperial – Baby – Macron Dream 04-04-24.

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is last night’s sequence following on from days of poor internet connectivity and the end of the Human immobilier house sale mandate.

A little after midnight I am awoken to a swirling orange-yellow-red visual vortex of tremendous brightness and clarity. Something is stirring the web of life and significantly so. I relax into they visual field certain that it is benign for me and in no way threatening.

I drift off to sleep and see a vison of Rákóczi, Count Saint Germain floating in space. He presents as two alternating figures. One of darker hair than the other. He is familiar and the visual representation is much as it has always been. It is clear that he is up to something and that this pertains somehow to me. We share a mind space for a length of time and it is evident that he will be “around” for a while over the near few days.

I wake up.

I doze off.

I am talking with a young dark haired woman who has somehow just been created by Saint Germain.  She is heavily built and wearing blue jeans she speaks English with a feint European accent.  She wants to talk about science. She is going to be attending the centre for biological education in London, at Imperial College. I tell her that I am familiar with it.

The scene changes and I can see I. He is concerned about the goings on and on the steps outside the old Chemistry department going in.

I am now “there” with the dark haired woman and L. I explain to the dark haired woman that my erstwhile business partner and the best man at my first wedding was the son of a Nobel Laureate. L had no idea about the latter and looks surprised. I am given a broken semiconductor circuit board in which there are four different components shaped like diamonds placed face to face. They are falling out of the board and they ask me to look at it.

The scene changes and I can see reports of a research grant and associated accounts. They are full of discrepancies and subject to a formal investigation. It is D who is under investigation for fraud. I see an image of him concerned about the investigation.

The scene shifts back and the circuit board is literally falling apart. I start to look at the components under a microscope and can see that it has been poorly manufactured. Rushed. I then see floating in space a fake cut diamond made of glass that has several bubble like imperfections. It is flawed, imperfect and not for real.

I wake.

I drift off.

I can see on a large white sheeted bed a young baby in a white nappy. It is without hair and blue eyed. It is lying on its back and whimpering slightly. I am wearing white loose fitting trousers, no shirt, or socks. I lay on the bed and cradle the baby in the crook of my right arm. It presses itself against my chest and I kiss it gently on the forehead.

I wake.

The wife goes to the loo; she snuggles sup saying that I am hot. I kiss her gently on the forehead.

She rolls over and I drift off.

There is a very persistent vison of Emmanuel Macron which lasts quite a while. I understand that Macron is somehow linked to the baby.

I wake.

I build a new electric blue protection dome because it won’t be penetrated by visitors for a while.

I drift off.

I am now with a skinny young woman. We are in a room which is a complete and utter mess. She is talking very fast at me. I grab her by her hips and throw her onto a sofa. I have had enough and she shuts up.

I am outside with a couple of men we are trying to shift a blue portable toilet from the second floor of a barn. I push it a little and it falls backward off the risen floor and smashes on the ground. Job done. We can clear it up with a tractor later.

I am back in the room and the woman is acting all “poor me”. It is a complete shit tip. There is mess and leaves everywhere. The carpet is threadbare.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, would you? Besides I am pregnant.” She says.

“K, even if you are pregnant which I deem unlikely. It is not my child and, in all likelihood, you are being, manipulative. This is your mess, you made it. Not me.!”

In the dream the woman is of a similar stature to K but it does not resemble her. The feel is similar.

Dreaming sequence ends…

Boulanger – Dawn – Harbour – Naked – Trinity or Triquetra – investigation Dream 26-09-24

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On a restless night a few days after high does Prednisolone.

The dream starts in a village in France. The village is on a hill and I am with an Asian Indian man. We are looking to buy some bread. We try one boulanger and it is closed, we try another. It is also closed. We run down the street to a third and it too is closed. The man is upset that all the bakers are closed.  I note a corner shop which is open and go in. In the back room there is a small rack of bread. I select a roughly triangular loaf. I note some bottles. I select a clear see through, as opposed to green, bottle of Sprite. I go to the till to pay.

The woman won’t accept payment. In English she says that she has been given a budget to pay for bread because the bakers are closed. She says that she will put my food, my lunch on her card.

The scene changes and it is the next day around dawn. I am only wearing a white duvet which is secured around me with a wide royal blue plastic belt. The belt trails behind. I am at a hewn out Mediterranean port.  The stone is sandstone and there is warmth in the air. I see a truly magnificent pale yellow dawn on the soft blue sky. It is so bright I turn away. I turn back it is so yellow, radiant pastel. This repeats several times.

Across the harbour I can see some boys and teenagers chasing fish in the water. They are shouting to scare the fish. I get into the water naked to intercept the fish. The fish change direction and swim back towards the boys. Several flying fish launch themselves out of the warm water and fly off.

I head up into the village naked. I go into a village meeting clothed. There is a bingo like game going on in which audience members are drawn out of a hat. The last two drawn are winners. Twice a young man called Mark and I win. He is a student. Another draw is made and he and I win for a third time. I ask him what he does. He says that he is an actor and is currently playing a murder victim in a play.

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He ushers me to follow him. We go to a wood panelled room where he shows me various lengths of rope. He hands me a thick crimson red rope the thickness of my thumb. It is longer than me. It is inlaid with a single fine gold thread and tied into a trinity knot or Triquetra at its middle. The knot is comprised of exact circles. If one grabs the end of the rope and swings it the knot can be used as a whip. The feeling is that this is a Welsh as opposed to Irish version. He gives me the knot and says that I need to remount it in the church.

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The feeling is of Brittany. I am in a brightly lit room which has a church like feel. I am trying to mount the rope on a leaded glass window. People are watching and commenting. The place is a shit tip, a huge mess and I am finding it hard to work. There are bits of window frame and hinges everywhere. I am up a ladder fixing the bright red rope to the top of the window. The sides of the rope will be attached to the horizontal lower part with a vertical piece dissecting the window in two.  The rope and the knot are special, relic like and mine.

As I am doing this M walks in and sits down. She is very much younger and now with blonde hair. In walks J. She too sits down and starts commenting on what I am doing. I tell her that I do not need her advice. I ask them what they are doing here in Brittany. M says that someone has begun investigating into my genealogy and family tree. The sense is that the investigation is official.

Dream ends..