Tag: South

South Korea – Quantum Perimeter – Dream 13-03-2026

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s dream the subject matter of which is out of the blue.

The dream opens on a bright sunny morning in a campus like estate with mid-rise modern buildings. It is “Singapore” clean and tidy. Many young people are milling around. They are smartly dressed and of mostly of East Asian appearance. The place is alive and buzzing. There is a sense of hurry and of purpose. From the signage and the writing thereupon I can tell that we are in South Korea at a hybrid university – business – technology campus of which Samsung is a major part. The logo is present but not dominant. The young people are well dressed and there is a sense of going to work. I have been invited there.

I notice that there is a lack of coffee shops and other outlets at ground level in the architect designed garden spaces. In the distance I can see a small kiosk come shop attached to the corner of one of the low rise buildings. I make my way there. For some reason I want to buy some cigarettes {I have not smoked in quite a while}. Looking through the window I cannot at first see any Marlboro Gold. I go inside the shop and ask if they have any Marlboro Gold. The man serving is an Asian man of a similar age to me. He is balding and has slightly unruly hair. He says in accent less {to me} English that he thinks he has some somewhere. I check my wallet and only have a limited amount of local currency. He finds some Marlboro Gold and brings them over to the counter. He gets the card payment machine and I make a payment using my dark blue French bank card. He then hands me the change, which is in the form of five gold coins, two of these are about four centimetres in diameter and three of these are about six centimetres. They fall on the counter in the form of the Olympic rings logo. The hue of the golden coins is slightly reddish like Welsh gold. This he says is the change and he hands me a packet of Marlboro Gold which contains fifty cigarettes. He says that these are all he has left, packets of fifty, and that they are especially for me. The coins morph into chocolate biscuits enclosed in a golden foil wrapper. I am able to eat the gold / golden covered biscuits if I want. I note again that there are five of them. I take out a velvet old school drawstring pouch-purse and pop the coins in. I pull the drawstring to and slip the bag in my pocket. I pick up the cigarettes and leave. There is a tremendous sense of confraternity with the man in the shop. We have known each other and do recognise each other. We bid farewell.

I am now upstairs at some trade delegation put on by the Korean government – university – incubator committee. It is top-notch with servers in traditional Korean costume. The buffet to one side is gourmet and presented with a marked attention to detail. There are a lot of “suits” there and the organisers are encouraging networking and deal making. I start having a conversation with a local big cheese and his wife. I am commenting that I find the spoken Korean language quite easy on the ear. It has a nice sound to it. In the dream I realise that I am actually talking Korean which the woman in particular finds very funny. She hides her mouth with her hand to chuckle. We return to English speaking. She wants to know if my wife is OK with the idea of moving to South Korea. I say that we have not discussed it yet but that the Korean woman can meet with her if she would like. There is a sense that they work to ensure the whole family is on board.

The scene changes and I am walking along a corridor in a low rise research institute. It has ceiling to floor glass windows and looks out onto the campus. The corridor leads to a  café come hang-out space. I am walking and talking with a man in a white coat who is some kind of prof / scientist. We are in the “Quantum Perimeter Institute” which is a specially funded new initiative here in South Korea. I know that in the basement there are a number of very high specification laser laboratories. To the side of the building is a purpose built refrigeration / cryogenic plant. It is high specification and can handle huge loads. We are talking about a theoretician, a recently recruited quantum specialist. The professor is suggesting that I work with him. I can add the experimental know how to his ideas.

In the dream I know that I am at the Quantum Perimeter Institute because of my left field and unorthodox thinking about some of the esoteric implications adjunct to quantum science.

We continue to walk down the corridor towards the smell of coffee.

The dream ends.

Aussie Photos – Ndola Zambia Job Interview Dream 23-02-2026

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s dream. It is very out-of-the-blue and in terms of compare and contrast, differs markedly.

The dream opens with me wearing a photographer’s utility vest sleeveless jacket in khaki. It has multiple pockets and around my neck is a posh camera with a very large lighter coloured telephoto lens. It is pretty heavy. I am to review thousands of photos of Australia and specifically of wetlands in Queensland and Northern Territory. After I have done this I have an assignment in the Gulf of Carpentaria. The assignment is for photographing mangroves. It will be way outback and bush.

Next I am at an unspecified airport with the wife. I have an upcoming job interview at Ndola university in the Copperbelt of Zambia. I have an open old style return air ticket replete with carbon paper. I am asking the wife if she wants to come along. We need to figure out if the cost is worth it given that I may not get the job. We decide that it will be worth the hundreds of pounds because she can then input into the decision about taking the job and relocating to Zambia. I have been before she not. So we buy her an open ticket too.

Because it is all a bit rushed and last minute she is not sitting with me on the plane. L, a southerly dreamer, is somehow “around” on the plane with us. I need to have my landing documentation filled out so I go to the cockpit to speak with the captain. He is very happy to fill out my form for me. It is getting time for take-off so I leave him to do his pre-flight checks and return to my seat.

Because it is all rushed I have not made a hotel reservation in Ndola nor have I booked a hire car. I wonder what kind of “sheds” they have for hire and what state the main highway North is in. I remember it was not all that great when I was last there over forty years ago. It could prove to be a long drive.

The plane takes off and what seems like a short while later we are beginning our descent into Lusaka. I recognise it. I see a church and a river. {It is not like actual Lusaka.} We are going to land on the highway and will have to walk into the terminal building. The plane taxies. We  disembark and I note the particular pungent fecund smell of Africa.  As we enter the terminal building there is a staircase going down with a lush brown carpet on. I slide down the carpet on my bum playfully. We are in Africa so I know it will be futile to try to organise and schedule things. It will only result in frustration when that does not work. I must relax and flow, glide, with the chaos.

We go though passport control and my passport has loads of stamps in it. I have travelled widely. {In reality it is pristine new.} We get to immigration and are being cleared by a very smartly dressed black woman. She has an ornate hair-do and long decorative fingernails. She speaks excellent English with a slight Zambian accent. I am happy to be here with some familiar things such as the accent. She objects to my paperwork which the captain has done. There is no exit date. She suggests that we make one up and put it on the form. I show her the invitation to interview at Ndola university. She says to take my/our time to explore. We know we have money in the bank and that given the exchange rate we can wing-it. We make up a date and she writes it in red biro on our immigration clearance forms. Neither of us are happy with this ad-lib way of doing things. Out of the corner of my eye I see an Avis / Hertz car rental booth. The woman says that the guy there has family in all the hotels and will fix us up with a reservation in Ndola. In my mind I think that I have not yet  done full preparation for the interview, which is due tomorrow afternoon, nor have I had a confirmation email. The woman sensing this suggests that the interview time is mobile and that they will want to do hospitality things which could be very extensive. They like to welcome people to Zambia. I explain I lived here as a child. She says that the welcome home will therefore be very important. They always like to welcome people back the most. She intimates that in a sense I already have the job lined up.

The wife and I look at each other realising we are now in Africa time and African ways. I know this dream is South of the equator.

The dream ends.

Gateway to the Nagual’s World – South the place of Dreaming

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In my case, don Juan wanted an omen before he taught me the ritual. That omen came when don Juan and I were driving through a border town in Arizona and a policeman stopped me. The policeman thought I was an illegal alien. Only after I had shown him my passport, which he suspected of being a forgery, and other documents, did he let me go. Don Juan had been in the front seat next to me all the time, and the policeman had not given him a second glance. He had focused solely on me. Don Juan thought the incident was the omen he was waiting for.

His interpretation of it was that it would be very dangerous for me to call attention to myself, and he concluded that my world had to be one of utter simplicity and candor – elaborate ritual and pomp were out of character for me. He conceded, however, that a minimal observance of ritualistic patterns was in order when I made my acquaintance with his warriors. I had to begin by approaching them from the south, because that is the direction that power follows in its ceaseless flux. Life force flows to us from the south, and leaves us flowing toward the north. He said that the only opening to a Nagual’s world was through the south, and that the gate was made by two female warriors, who would have to greet me and would let me go through if they so decided.

He took me to a town in central Mexico, to a house in the countryside. As we approached it on foot from a southerly direction, I saw two massive Indian women standing four feet apart, facing each other. They were about thirty or forty feet away from the main door of the house, in an area where the dirt was hard-packed. The two women were extraordinarily muscular and stern. Both had long, jet-black hair held together in a single thick braid. They looked like sisters. They were about the same height and weight – I figured that they must have been around five feet four, and weighed 150 pounds. One of them was extremely dark, almost black, the other much lighter. They were dressed like typical Indian women from central Mexico – long, full dresses and shawls, homemade sandals.

Don Juan made me stop three feet from them. He turned to the woman on our left and made me face her. He said that her name was Cecilia and that she was a dreamer. He then turned abruptly, without giving me time to say anything, and made me face the darker woman, to our right. He said that her name was Delia and that she was a stalker. The women nodded at me. They did not smile or move to shake hands with me, or make any gesture of welcome. Don Juan walked between them as if they were two columns marking a gate. He took a couple of steps and turned as if waiting for the women to invite me to go through. The women stared at me calmly for a moment. Then Cecilia asked me to come in, as if I were at the threshold of an actual door.

Don Juan led the way to the house. At the front door we found a man. He was very slender. At first sight he looked extremely young, but on closer examination he appeared to be in his late fifties. He gave me the impression of being an old child: small, wiry, with penetrating dark eyes. He was like an elfish apparition, a shadow. Don Juan introduced him to me as Emilito, and said that he was his courier and all-around helper, who would welcome me on his behalf.

It seemed to me that Emilito was indeed the most appropriate being to welcome anyone. His smile was radiant; his small teeth were perfectly even. He shook hands with me, or rather he crossed his forearms and clasped both my hands. He seemed to be exuding enjoyment; anyone would have sworn that he was ecstatic in meeting me. His voice was very soft and his eyes sparkled.

We walked into a large room. There was another woman there. Don Juan said that her name was Teresa and that she was Cecilia’s and Delia’s courier. She was perhaps in her early thirties, and she definitely looked like Cecilia’s daughter. She was very quiet but very friendly. We followed don Juan to the back of the house, where there was a roofed porch.

It was a warm day. We sat there around a table, and after a frugal dinner we talked until after midnight. Emilito was the host. He charmed and delighted everyone with his exotic stories. The women opened up. They were a great audience for him. To hear the women’s laughter was an exquisite pleasure. They were tremendously muscular, bold, and physical. At one point, when Emilito said that Cecilia and Delia were like two mothers to him, and Teresa like a daughter, they picked him up and tossed him in the air like a child.

Of the two women, Delia seemed the more rational, down- to-earth. Cecilia was perhaps more aloof, but appeared to have greater inner strength. She gave me the impression of being more intolerant, or more impatient; she seemed to get annoyed with some of Emilito’s stories. Nonetheless, she was definitely on the edge of her chair when he would tell what he called his “tales of eternity.” He would preface every story with the phrase, ‘Do you, dear friends, know that. . . ?’

The story that impressed me most was about some creatures that he said existed in the universe, who were the closest thing to human beings without being human; creatures who were obsessed with movement and capable of detecting the slightest fluctuation inside themselves or around them. These creatures were so sensitive to motion that it was a curse to them. It gave them such pain that their ultimate ambition was to find quietude. Emilito would intersperse his tales of eternity with the most outrageous dirty jokes. Because of his incredible gifts as a raconteur, I understood every one of his stories as a metaphor, a parable, with which he was teaching us something.

 Don Juan said that Emilito was merely reporting about things he had witnessed in his journeys through eternity. The role of a courier was to travel ahead of the Nagual, like a scout in a military operation. Emilito went to the limits of the second attention, and whatever he witnessed he passed on to the others.

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From “The Eagle’s Gift” by Carlos Castaneda, Part Three.

  • The gate to our property is in the South. Currently there is a beat up Citroen there…

South Coast – Westerly Dreamer – New Books – Dream 18-12-2025

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Here is last night’s dream had before 5:26 AM The overall sleep was again goodish.

I am on an old style British train, in a carriage with facing bench seats. The seats are made of that slightly itchy hard wearing material. I am with Simon. We are heading past Gatwick towards Worthing. He is telling me that there are lots of good properties for sale on the South coast. They have come down in price and a bargain can be had. He says that all along the coast they are up for sale. He strongly recommends buying one there. The mood is light hearted. We are going to the seaside.

We alight and are then in the town centre of an unspecified South coast town. Simon leads me to the coast. Off the coast I can see a number of small islands with white chalky cliffs and grassy tops. Each island is seemingly floating in the sea. They are distinct and I know they have their own eco-system. I can see sheep on the cliff tops on some. Simon says the islands float by and that the scenery is constantly changing. They are like the islands floating in air in the Avatar movies. I say that I did not know things like this were off the South coast of England.

We go back in towards town and stop at a small open square with white low rise regency housing. It is a couple of streets back from the front. We are approached by Christine and Elizabeth, both of whom are female dreamers. Christine seems to know Simon. We greet each other. Elizabeth takes me to one side in an overly earnest manner. Simon and Christine walk off together.

Elizabeth says that I must come to stay with her as we have somethings to work on. But first she must clear the coast with her landlord as visitors, especially male, are not allowed. She looks young. I say OK I will find somewhere to wait.

I find a bench and stretch myself out on it naked under a duvet. My clothes are on the ground nearby. I fall asleep. It is in the middle of town. I am woken by Elizabeth shaking my shoulder. I check where my clothes are and dress under the blanket. I have a half a bottle of white wine which I knock back. I wipe my face and am ready to go.

Elizabeth leads me off and downstairs to her basement studio flat in a very large white regency building. The flat is small and cramped but definitely that of a female, from decor and smell. She shows me her single bed and a bed roll she has made up on the floor. I will sleep on the floor. It must be obvious to everyone that she is not sleeping with me, having sex. I comment that I am pretty much past all that.

We lie down and make ready for sleep. As we are nodding off the walls between the flat and that of the next door neighbour fade. In bed there are two women. They have bright “trendy” hair with tattoos and piercings. The hair is vividly dyed. They are in a lesbian relationship. Elizabeth is very conservative in comparison. I ask her if she is a lesbian too, suggesting she dabbled as a younger woman. No. She says that the lesbian relationship here relates to feminine dreaming and that the two women are dreamers like her. I know she is a Westerly dreamer and her mother Christine, a Southerly one. The lesbian theme and the lack of walls is a commentary of the connectedness of feminine dreaming. People are very sceptical about me and Elizabeth. They gather round to criticise. Under the bed is a book we are working on together. To fend off the criticism I sit up on my bed roll and show a hard covered book. It is open at the frontispiece with copyright notice, ISBN and title. As I flick though the pages there are black and white images and text which literally appears as I change page. The gang of gathered critics look on slightly awe struck as the text and images of the new book appear right before their eyes. This is a new book which I may write.

The dream ends.

Random – Buffalo Shaman – P&L Dream 28-10-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream had between 4 and 7:30. I am going to open a new dream theme “random” and apply it to dreams which seemingly have little to do with me although I may feature therein.

My anticipation is that the dreaming will fade going towards surgery. It will then lay relatively dormant. This anticipation could be wrong.

The dream opens in a large room, part of a town hall and near a registry office. Sat around the room on large “leather” bound sofas are a collection of jet black men. They are all very smartly if non-standardly dressed. They look a little like characters out of a 1930s movie by their vintage clothing choice. There is some jollity and mirth. They are all Nigerian and gathered for a Nigerian wedding. They are big blokes and I think that they would make a good pack of rugby forwards.

I am to marry an Irish woman Aishleen to one of them. She is in the next room waiting in a white wedding dress.

I look down to the inside of my right wrist. There is  a white, made of bone, emblem there. It is a skull of a buffalo with bead decorations on the horns. The emblem is mostly two dimensional and is attached to me, tattoo like as opposed to affixed. One of the Nigerians says that I am the Buffalo shaman and that I must practice the rite. I gather the men together holding hands in a circle. We sing and chant a little.

They notice in one corner of the room a brilliant white laboratory style mouse. I must sacrifice it. To do this I take a book from the bookshelf and use it to squash the mouse. They cheer me on to do this. I squash the mouse and it flattens then disappears. It is OK now for the marriage to go ahead.

The scene changes and I am walking around South London near a park. The road is on top of a slope behind some metal railings and the park is in the valley below. It is in Streatham. I follow the road and go into a club house of sorts there is a meeting. The local “council” are discussing closing public toilets as a cost saver. I say that this is stupid as the cost saving is tiny. The lead for the meeting says that the finances are dire. I asks him to show me. He comes back with a summary statement. I say that no, I want the entire profit and loss, P&L accounts to peruse. Give me all the detail. That is the best thing I can do for them to do a thorough look as an objective outsider. I say that I think they are losing the plot.

He comes back with a full accounts setting and a younger woman clerk. She is dark haired, ample and around 40. I recognise her. He says that she will help me. She asks me if I remember where I met her all those years ago. She says that it was a 4 AM in the morning walking along Turners Road when I was accustomed to doing my late night walks. She says that we went back to hers for some more drinks. For some reason non sexual we are close.

As I wake up I think “random”…

The dream ends.

Flying – Shot At – Antique Rifle Dream – 02-10-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. It is the first flying dream that I have had in a very long time. Previously a long while ago I was able to direct the flying as one might in a lucid dreaming scenario. I quickly realised that this, although pleasant, was not dreaming proper.

The dream opens on a grassy hillside looking out over verdant countryside. The hill is a part of a range of hills rising out of a very flat farming countryside, a patchwork of fields. It is UK or Northern Europe. The sun is low in the sky, East. It is not long after dawn and there is a dew on the grass. I am enjoying the morning sun on my face. It is morning and I am very much alive because of it. I feel the breeze blowing towards the South along the range of hills.

I lean into the breeze and allow it to lift me. I am soaring on the breeze like wearing a wing suit though much lighter in feel and slower of velocity. I can soar like a raptor, a condor on the thermals at the edge of the range of hills. I am dressed in my normal combats and a Berghaus fleece. My hair has grown. I bank towards the East.

There is a brief interlude in which I look down on Sicily from an altitude of space. I can see the geographic contours of the island as per a map.

I am now back on the wind flying around a hundred metres or so above the hillside. I notice stones and bullets starting to whizz by me. Someone is taking pot shots. I land behind a small rocky outcrop. Down on the flat land behind a dry stone wall I can see two old Land Rovers in khaki. There are men with slingshots and modern black semi-automatic rifles shooting at me.

I find my antique rifle which has a wooden body, the wood is a burnished chestnut colour, it is bolt action and has a small magazine. It has a telescopic sight. It is a hunting or sniper rifle. I hold the trigger grip in my right hand and bring my left eye to the sight. I can clearly see the men behind the wall. I fire a shot and notice it is slightly off where I am aiming. I adjust the sight and remember that the bullets are low calibre, there is not much of a recoil. I use my right hand to operate the bolt action. I then get various members of the party with their heads  in the sight. I know that I could easily kill them. Instead I aim a shot at the top of the stone wall. It strikes between two of the men. They recoil and duck. I repeat the action between two more of the men. The men are now all down behind the wall. They run for the cars and drive off. As they do this I shoot one of the cargo rails on top of the rear Land Rover. I can hear the metal on metal from where I am. I place the rifle on the floor and launch back into flight.

This time I soar higher and can see the cars winding down the country roads. I am enjoying myself considerably in the morning sunshine. On a hillside in the middle distance I can see my wife sat meditating. In front of her drying in the sun are a t-shirt and her combat style sweat pants. I fly over to look at her. She is wearing a full shawl. She is not yet ready to fully take flight. By mid-afternoon she will be ready. I will come back for her then. I head off towards the sea. I know some ocean cliffs there where I can be with the seabirds for a while.

The dream ends.

Rain Forest – Dreamtime – Barramundi Dream 21-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s “nice” dream. I thought at last a dream with no politics or intrigue in.

The dream opens with a small convoy of three or four Land Rovers leaving a bitumen road and heading off down a dirt track. The cars have cargo rails on top and are laden for expedition. I am driving the rear car. We head down a track into an increasingly dense rain forest. The wet dust becomes more muddy. We reach a car-park staging post and must yomp to the residence huts. We load up with as much as we can carry. Leaving more stuff for future retrieval. We have enough to set up for the night and a few days. But we will be here for weeks so there will be more trips needed.

The footpath is pretty good but needs clearing on occasion. We approach a small compound which looks like a scout hut / ex-military training facility. It is arranged around a quadrangle. It is sometimes used for team building purposes. Because we are relatively few in number we will bed down in the main hut which has bunks for us all. There are several floor to ceiling curtain divides to make rooms. The last users have not tidied up after themselves. I put my pack down in the end “room” and a very young Pierot takes the bunk next to mine. The party is all young, twenties and thirties. They are students on an archaeological dig from university. The woman in charge is a slight small white woman of mid-thirties with freckles and light brown hair. It is her dig. They all want to go and see the dig site before dark. I stay at base making it ship shape and Bristol fashion as is my want. I make the beds and check the mosquito nets. I reattach the curtains. I put two pots of stew on to cook, one veggie one meat. I check the supplies.

They all come back excited from the dig site and Pierot wants to take a group photo which he does. In the creek below we can see serval canoes filled with Australian army “diggers” they have exited on the river out of a cave system and are proceeding downstream on a training exercise. Because of the state of the world the military is on alert. In a cliff on the other side of the creek I can see a command and control post cut out of the cliff. There are a couple of officer types in there.

The gang gather for food and I take the woman lead to one side. Her hair has gotten frizzy from the intense humidity of the place. I tell her that I used to do team training events like for UK GRAD. I organised these. I say that I am happy to organise the logistics of the stay. It is for her to say what she wants. She is very happy for me to do this. I am much older than everyone else. In one sense I am my current biological age and in an other many thousands of years old. It is because I am there that the aboriginal elders have allowed access to the dreamtime site which they are going to explore. This is because I am dreamtime too. Night falls suddenly, we eat and retire.

The next morning we all head down the trail to the dig site under the rainforest canopy. The sounds of the jungle are magnificent. We reach a descent through red-brown mud arches made out of dirt which look like we are going through an earth ribcage. The pillars on either side are a bit reminiscent of huge termite mounds.  I am completely at home here. The feeling is mysterious, dank and damp.  There is a kind of portent to the structure. The “rib cage” extends for a hundred metres or so downhill. The path is wet underfoot and we must be careful. As we near the bottom two of the young females are to one side of the path. They are a young white woman in a white t-shirt, khaki shorts with open shirt and a brown woman similarly dressed with a red t-shirt. She has jet black hair and is mixed race. They are both damp from humidity and sweat. They are young and hormonal. I pause by them in shorts and shirtless. I am lightly sweaty among my chest hair and on my biceps. They both look at me in a quasi-erotic lusty way. There is a kind of a spell. They are still prone to these feelings. I hold their gaze for  a while and the spell is broken. I know them to be from the “South”. I pass and they fall in following me further down towards the site.

The path veers down and flattens out. We are now next to a large plunge pool for the creek. The creek flows to the right of the pool which has depth and reeds. The water is crystal clear. Above the creek at the edge of the rain forest I can see kangaroos. Theses are unusual in the terrain. I gesture with finger to lips for silence and point at the kangaroos. I explain that they are a very rare type of wallaby found only here in the tropical northern part of Queensland. The wallabies have come to observe who is approaching the site and what they are doing. The wallabies are “chatting” amongst themselves.

The party continues on to a clearing near the river bank within a quasi-ring of eucalyptus which was a meeting place. There are burn sites there and the site extends in all directions. Here the rain forest is sparse because of the human use over the many years.

I look into the plunge pool and throw out a line. I pull in a big clump of weeds. I know that there are fish there especially near the margin of the creek flow. I should need to fish at the edge of the deep away from the weeds and near the flow. I know that Barramundi the fish is there. He is there with his family. Barramundi will let us have sustenance to add to our pot. But only I must fish for Barramundi in this spot. I see Barramundi the dreamtime. I see Barramundi  the river fish. I know Barramundi and he knows me.

I will feed the party and care for them over the weeks ahead.

The dream ends and I am happy that I have had an uncomplicated dream.

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Dreaming Colour – Shaman – nagal Woman – Light – Dream 13-09-2025

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Here is this morning’s sequence.

Around 6:15 AM back from the bathroom I lay in bed. I was unsure if I should get up or if I would go back to sleep. So I began a raja yoga thought form meditation building a form and a triangulation. I was having difficulty holding the form which is unusual. I started to notice breakthrough of dreaming colour of a passive kind. I decided to follow the cue and absorbed myself into the dreaming colour.

I am to explore. The visual field fills with a light blue and indigo blue light nascent and forming like clouds in time lapse. The colour assumes shapes similar to a Mandelbrot set though much more poorly defined. It is fractal. The visual field is breathing and transforming. The light is struggling against an inflowing darkness a kind of black ink diffusing into clear water effect. I allow the blue to swell excluding the ink. There is and ebb and flow of dark “ink” and vibrant light-indigo-blue. The dreaming is struggling against the incoming darkness. I know this to be caused by the darkness and evil currently expanding into the world. Unpleasant evil is on the rise. The dreaming of mankind is impinged by this darkness and it struggles to dream in, dream true. I observe and will the dreaming colour, the light-indigo-blue, to fill the visual field like a tide washing up a beach. It marginalises the darkness but does not exclude it completely. It holds the darkness temporarily at bay. The session lasts for between a quarter and a half earth hours, though it seems more eternal. I feel energised by the power of the dreaming.

I allow myself to leave the dreaming colour and build the raja yoga thought form and triangulation with ease.

The dream starts upstairs at Monty’s with Robin he is trying to find us a new house to live in. We are exploring the upstairs of a house. He says that it is bigger than the one at Monty’s, which it is. He has other places to show me. But first he wants us to meet someone.

The scene now change to the cafeteria of an ethnic shop come garden centre somewhere in the UK, query Wales or Borders. I am sat at a large round table with the wife to my right and Robin and a Mexican looking woman opposite. She is opposite me; Robin is opposite the wife. On the table is an earthenware bread basket and rectangular beaded place mats set with tiny turquoise stones. The feeling is very South America. On the walls are chianti-like wine bottle with a straw protective covering. Robin says that we should all join hands in a circle. I say that this is not a good idea, specifically for her, you. I look directly at her and she returns the gaze.

She has dark black hair with a few streaks of grey-white tied tightly back into a bun. She is of a similar though older age as me. She is slight and wearing a thick coloured line-patterned “poncho”. She has a single large “silver” earing in her left ear. Here eyes are obsidian black. She does not think it a bad idea to hold hands. She reaches out her right hand, which is small, tanned and leathery. As she does this the sleeve of her turquoise shirt rises up to reveal a silver ethnic bracelet. She offers me her hand. I can feel the palm-chakra in my right hand begin to burn and radiate heat. I say that I know she is a shaman to which she makes no reply but has a reciprocal knowing.

I bring my hand close to hers and we grip. She initially winces at the impact of heat from my hand. There is an instantaneous rush and a kind of melding. The room around us disappears. I know that she is a nagal woman. For what seems a long time we are sat there without chair or table for support suspended in space holding hands.

She then shows me by mental projection a truly brilliant white four pointed star of immense radiance.

–

–

The basic outline is as above. But the visual image was truly dazzling filling the entire visual-dream-field.

She asks me what it is that I do.

I say that I work quietly persistently against darkness and that I have always done this.

She says that I am a light and that I have always been a light a part of the light a greater light.

She says that I am not alone we are all connected.

We sit there joined isolated in space-time for a considerable time.

On letting go of hands we are back at the table in the restaurant. The others do not seem to have noticed. We have some food and browse the ethnic shop. I pick some items up and go to the till to pay. The cash register is not modern. The woman puts the items in a hessian bag and tells me to take care of them because the last time I was here I broke a few things. I discuss with the nagal woman how I once had a male student who I knew was a proto-shaman and more. I knew that he was like me and that he was not yet ready to learn this. He needed to have a shaman’s breakdown first in order to be ready. Just like I did thirty years ago. The feeling is that he is now ready.

The woman at the till is a confederate of the nagal woman. Something drops on the floor off the till and I kneel down to pick it up. She has pushed it. As I do this the nagal woman places a fine wooden tube into my left ear and blows with some force some plant material and a tiny diamond-like gemstone. I see them moving down inside the opaque tube and feel them enter my beingness via the ear.

I am kneeling in a position like martial arts seiza with my back straight and my eyes front. I have no shirt on and am in white linen trousers. I am looking East directly into the dawn. The light flows past my head like a wind blowing my hair which starts off longish black. I initially have no body hair on my torso. I am kneeling in a wind, a gale, of light. The kneeling form changes shape and I can see the face take on different forms which I know are different lives. She tells me to remember and have more faith because I am a light. By mind I tell her that I am made to endure and to wait. I may seem not to be doing but I am, I am waiting. She smiles and removes the wooden tube. We are back in the ethnic shop at the garden centre.

The scene changes and I am at a cottage with a wooden five bar gate. I am on the drive. The wife is in the house and Robin has asked me to look after a young dog. He is going on holiday and the dog needs a good home. I take the lead of a black and white springer spaniel type dog who is very exuberant. I close the gate and let it off the lead. It jumps the gate and Robin thinks it will run away. I call it and it jumps back over the gate and straight up into my arms. The dog has decided that I am OK.

The dream ends.

Blue GTi – Pantera – Pursuit – Places – Mdina – Dream – 11-09-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is this morning’s dream.

The dream starts with me driving a soft top dark blue {indigo?} Golf GTi type vehicle. It is right hand drive and has had a roll bar driver protection cage welded in. The sound of the engine is throaty and I can feel power under the throttle. The drive is similar to “whitey” my erstwhile Peugeot 208 GTi with 200 bhp. Though the handling is better.

I drive it into an urban French style garage. The type they have in the town centre and in 1960s films. I park and get out. I greet a man in light blue overalls. We know each other very well. He asks what he can do for me. I say that I have recently bought the car and could he look specifically at the breaks and the steering. The car is equipped with new top of the range tyres. I say that the steering felt a little slack on the way there. He looks at the car with interest.

He pops it onto an inspection ramp and hoists it into the air. He goes underneath and notes down the chassis and VIN {vehicle identification number}. Excitedly he ushers me to follow him into his office. He sits at desk and enters the VIN into the computer. He exclaims, “I knew it”. “You have bought a very rare special edition Pantera version.” The emphasis is long on the E and I know it to be Panthēra cat family and Jaguar. I feel corporally the Jaguar at his utterance of the word Pantera. I feel myself a Jaguar in the jungle. He says that these were a limited edition ultra-souped-up version. There were only a very few made and they are very high performance. He says that I have gotten a good deal. He adjusts the brakes and steering. He lowers the car down. He does not want payment. He has not seen one of these before in the flesh.

The scene changes. With the soft top down I am being pursued though a “medieval” town centre with very tight streets and corners. The roads have small squares, piazzas. On occasion I do handbrake turns to make the very tight corners. There are steps and gradients. Although I am being pursued by several vehicles I do not have direct sight of them. The feel is southern Europe, Mediterranean even. The pursuers are not police or official rather bad people who wish me ill, who want to hurt and even kill me. No matter how much they try I can out pace them in my special edition Pantera.

The scene changes and I am in a snowy pine forest with muddy “roads”. It feels Finland-Russia-Estonia. Again I am being pursued. I am now ultra glad of the roll bar as I am rally driving at breakneck speed. I am being pursued by people in slower four wheel drive vehicles. I know that I won’t be able to shake them until I reach the highway. After that they will be dust. The pursuit is relentless.

I wake up and can feel my thighs, lower back and sacroiliac plate. I know that I have been writhing around tensing my muscles during the dream pursuit. I can feel adrenaline. I take a while for my muscles to relax and stop hurting. I go to the bathroom and it is 5:15 AM.

Back now in the dream I am in Mdina, L-Imdina, in Malta. I know it is the Maltese Mdina. I am wandering the modern streets and know beyond question that I lived here and spent time here hundreds of years ago. I find my old residence down the street from a church. There remains a puzzle for me to solve. I am very comfortable with the Arab influence; it is a feeling which I recollect from my time among them as invited guest.

Next I am shown a map of Southern France specifically the protuberance which has Cannes and Marseille. I see both an ancient map and a more modern one. I have the knowing that “ago” I sailed from Marseille. I am now in my blue GTi top down driving West along a coast road heading for Marseille. To my right is a rocky bluff and to my left the azure-blue sea. I have wind in what would have been my hair. I am wearing Ray Bans and heading at speed along the open coast road. It is very early morning a little after dawn in high summer. The road is empty.

Next I am in a well-equipped kitchen in a large mansion like house. In front of me “mise en place” are various ingredients for cooking. One the other side of the cooking island is a young expensive posh woman whom I do not know. The kitchen belongs to her family. I sweat down some finely chopped shallots and a little garlic and more butter. I grind some pepper. I add some flour to make a roux, then some milk. Next I add a large glass of white wine which I can tell from the smell is a dessert wine. I reduce the sauce down. I am making a white wine reduction. I add some chopped fresh Tarragon. I know that I have also lived here near Marseille and that for me Marseille and Mdina are linked.

What I don’t yet know is how the Pantera or Jaguar fits in.

The dream ends.

Retreat Centre (dreaming) – Snake Bite Dream 01-09-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here is last night’s dream had between 3:30 and 7 AM.

The dream starts somewhere in England. I am with a man who is slightly older than me, with grey-white hair. He is dressed in a casual cream-white linen suit and has a “posh” accent. He shows me into a detached building which I understand to be some kind of a retreat centre. He is very “arcane school” in his use of language and manner. He thinks that he is superior and more evolved than I. He ushers me into the building and to a conservatory at the back  of the kitchen. The others will be here soon.

We are joined by a few women of my age and slightly younger. They are all dressed in a vaguely posh-hippy manner with chunky jewellery and expensive died hair. Some are from SES. They are surprised to see me there. The man says that I am there at his invitation. They want to know a little bit about me.

I say that I have read very extensively into things “spiritual” and that in this lifetime I have been doing a dreaming practice since 2000. They say that they like dreams. I say that maybe they should keep a journal of what happens when I am with them because a being like me, from the deep South, can have a dramatic effect on dreaming. We are dreaming.

One of the women asks If I will help her put up the Christmas decorations, she is large and plump and clearly a dreamer by prediction also from the South. We put the decorations up. I start to play with a large great Dane dog on the floor.  I lie down with it face to face and we play. I the  say that we should eat. There is some resistance but soon we all pull the tables together. Lucy walks in and she is known to them. They are surprised that I know her too. I explain that we are exactly twenty years separated in birth having been born on the same day. They ask me if she lied to me. I say that she did not necessarily tell me the full truth.

I ask what time the village shop closes. It should be open until five. I go and return with some wine and cider; some bread and a chocolate log.

I go outside with Lucy and we stand on a hillock in the garden next to an apple tree. From there we can see the sea and perhaps France. I ask her how she is but she is off staring a little into the distance. We share a silence for a long time and then go back into the house.

I comment that when I was in the village, I saw large black bears. “What are you supposed to do?” They say make a lot of noise. I note in the dream that they do not know what will happen in the dreaming  because I am among them. They think they do, but they do not.

The scene changes to India. In a busy courtyard people are playing cricket. It is a makeshift pitch a bit like cricket nets. A young Indian man is batting with pads but no helmet. A tall Englishman in whites is bowling. He is being slogged all over. The bowler changes to a northerner. He picks up a thin black snake holding its head and jaws in his hand which he bowls at the batter. The batter misses. I go to inspect and pick up the snake. As I do this it bites my right hand on the fleshy part between thumb and index finger. I can feel it painlessly inject liquid. I gently ease the snake off my right hand with my left hand and it slithers off.

I start to feel a little unwell and a military type English man takes me up to his room. He wonders if I am allergic to the poison, the venom. If so, I will die. He puts me into his bed and calls for an ambulance. It will take many hours. The room is a shit tip and very tropical. I have the chills. He does not hold out much hope for me. He goes out onto the veranda to smoke. After a while I wake up refreshed and completely naked.  I see a pair of short navy-blue shorts on the internal washing line. They are like a pair I had 40 years ago. I put these shorts on and go out onto the veranda. The man is completely stunned and utterly shocked to see me up walking. The snake bite on my hand is completely healed. I say that I have nothing to worry about with nāgas.

The dream ends.