Tag: South Kensington

My Disappearance – Navalny –  Big Cheese – Cairo – South Kensington Dream – 28-03-2026

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Here is this morning’s dream again with little or no obvious connection to real life here yesterday which we spent wallpapering.

The dream opens in England in and around London. Some kind of missive has gone out, been circulated, concerning my whereabouts. I have gone missing, disappeared and cannot be contacted. Nobody seems to know where I am nor how to get in touch. Tim, Tom and Susan are involved in the search all of whom are “important”. Tim and Sue have made inquiries concerning me but are unsatisfied with the answers. “He just disappeared” does not explain. Other people from the academic clan are involved in the investigation and some of them were known to me. Those involved are mostly of a similar age to me, like Paula, my peer group. Though there are others. The inquiry is largely London based. Although not huge there are questions to be answered that just won’t go away. There is a pendant question of “where did Alan disappear to and why?” There is very mild press and media interest brewing. They, the inquirers, don’t like loose ends. There is a time pressure to solve.

The scene changes and I am in a brightly lit wood / forest with Alexeï Navalny. It is a crisp winter morning and the cold makes dragon’s breath of our breathing. We are sat at a small very basic table on two old-school school chairs. On the table is an open bottle of vodka and two small glass tumblers each of which is partially filled. There is a small plate of gherkins and a large cheese in a round wood circular box like a Camembert. Navalny lifts the lid off the box and places the wax paper wrapped cheese onto a wooden cutting board. He gets a hunting knife out of an ankle scabbard and proceeds to cut the cheese into wedges. He pauses and we take a sip of our vodkas. He is discussing how cheeses can cause problems for other people. All his problems have come from upsetting big cheeses. When you think about it, it is nearly always people who are cheeses that cause problems for others. The reason we are in the wilderness, in exile, is cheese. Navalny reaches down into his knapsack and pulls out a rough-hewn rye bread. He says that he likes vodka, cheese and bread.

The scene changes and I pull up in my car into a very smart posh area of Cairo. The cars in the car park are all expensive and I am driving a black one. I get out and know that this is the posh, upmarket financial centre of Cairo. As yet it is not busy. I go into an upmarket “private” bank usually for high net worth individuals. It is well swish. I go to reception and am ushered off into a side room where I have a meeting with an expensively dressed woman who is wearing a hijab of fine expensive material. She is very classy. She has attached between her subtle noise piercing and ear a fine golden chain. She speaks very good accent free English. She wants to know why I want to open a bank account with them in Cairo. I say that my other bank and utilities have given my information out to others without asking my permission. They have done so at the request of others without checking with me first. This includes my bank in Paris. I am looking for a more personal and reliable service, based on trust. We shift into speaking French. She guides me though the application form which she fills in with a beautiful fountain pen. She says that the bank is very pleased to have me as a customer and that I will always be welcome in Cairo. Outside in the main marble hall of the bank customers are coming in.

The scene changes and I am in a kitchen of a British house. It is my parents’ house only it looks nothing like . The place is a bit of a mess, a shit tip. On the counter top is a Gaggia style coffee espresso machine. I make myself a coffee and one for the wife. She is with me but  I cannot see her. We drink the coffee.

The scene now changes to South Kensington. In a kind of arcade is a coffee shop come café. It is very urban, chic and trendy. Sat around the table are those ~ a decade younger than me. They are gossiping about me. There are Jason Laura and Camilla. They too have been wondering about my disappearance. There has been a lot of gossip and tittle tattle. It is a hot topic.

I walk in with the wife and sit down at the far end of a long table from them They looked surprised. I explain that they have been making a huge to-do about not a lot. I have not disappeared they have just not been aware of where I have been. For instance, we have not long come from South Wales where we have been drinking coffee at my parents’ house. I say that they have turned the whole thing into a massive spy-whodunnit-drama. They are embarrassed. It is well out of proportion.

The dream ends.

South Kensington Bank – KGB – Dream 08-10-2025

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Here is this morning’s dream. Where this came from I do not know.

The dream opens in a small plush bank very near South Kensington tube station. It is a private bank and the sense is it is for the well and ultra-well heeled. It has a distinctly Russian flavour and a faint whiff of oligarch. I am talking with a cash teller about some different kinds of account. She is slick and very professional. Her English is crisp-perfect and she is immaculate. I feel at home and safe. As usual the posh circumstance does not faze me. She gives me some literature to look at. As I go to leave a man in his thirties who works at the bank starts to engage me in conversation. He looks physically fit and his stance is “fighting” balanced. He continues to probe about me and my business.

I ask him , “KGB?”

He pauses to think and then says, “Yes, well not quite, something similar, more modern.” As he says this he allows a faint Russian accent to show. We smile in good spirits and I leave the bank.

I know that I will recognise him if I ever see him again.

I return some time later with a tall woman with dark hair. She is expensively dressed and partially eastern European. We go into the bank and I help arrange various financial currency instruments to be cashed, if needed, in global locations when she is on her travels. There is a sense that sanctions against Russia have made this more tricky. We leave the bank and are followed by thick set big man well over six feet. He has a very expensive lather jacket and close cropped blond hair. He has a ruddy face and I know that he is fond of a good piss up.

We head off down towards the tube station. He is behind us. As we are going down the stairs we are met by another Russian coming up the stairs. He stands in front of the woman and sort of ushers her back upstairs like a sheep. I draw a telescopic police baton and open it. The man on the stairs pauses. She looks at me and by gesture says for me to desist. These men are known to her. They work for her “father”. We all go upstairs to a large car / limousine waiting on the road. She is ushered in to the back seat. I go to join her but the leather jacket man says no. I am not to worry they and she will be in contact with me soon. All sense of tension has evaporated.

I head off to the tube station collapsing the telescopic baton as I do. As I go down the steps into the station I make a note in the dream to avoid London like the plague and to stay well away from South Kensington in particular.

The dream ends.

As I come to I am reminded of when I walked into a commercial posh bank in Kensington ~25 years ago. I was dressed as per usual in black Levis’ and a polo shirt. I said that I wanted to open an account. They were pretty sceptical. I said that we had just raised  £5 million start-up funds. They ushered me into a posh office for a coffee and metaphorical BJ. In an instant their tone had changed.

On waking I have an intuition that should anyone intervene personally with me it is most likely to be the Russians.

Cats – Dogs – Alien Pods – Caduceus Dream 26 -01-2025

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This dream was from between 2 and 5 AM this morning.

The dream opens in Imperial College, South Kensington Campus. I am walking from Chemistry to the Sherfield building. On the first floor I pass a meeting area / café where people are sat around table having “important” meetings. I see a white sofa with vinyl / fake leather cushions. I pick up a white seat cushion and take it with me to a carpeted chill out area. There are many young people sat there on the thick pile carpet.

At the back of the room near the wall is a big sofa. I go and park my cushion there. On the sofa is sat a young black man with his black cat who has luxuriant fur and is wearing glasses. The cat greets me and nuzzles. The man has two other cats with him, making a total of three. He asks if I have cats. Yes, we have one.

I turn my back and he morphs into a large black and brown coon hound {image checked on Google} with him on the sofa is Rhodesian Ridgeback. The coon hound comes over to me, still seated and makes a fuss of me slobbering slightly. The cats have disappeared.

I get up and leave the building wearing no shoes only black woollen socks. I start to wark around South Kensington. In the sky I can see strange disturbances where pods materialise out of thin air and start to descend to slowly to earth, I know they are not of this planet.

I decide to go back into Sherfield to get my boots and lap top. In the dream I know that I might need them in the days to come. I put on my ankle length boots which have a three golden buckles to the outer side of each foot. The boots are pointy and made of high quality leather. My lap top is in a black carry case with a shoulder strap.

I continue my exploration of that part of London. I note multiple more pods arrive. As they materialise there is a temporary rip in space-time. There is no sound associated nor do I hear any landing.

I am now in a covered area open to the air. I am giving a talk to a small number of people al fresco. I am running a small video camera which is recording. It is capturing multiple materialisation events. Someone says that perhaps I should offer this to the BBC.

There is much consternation about the events happening and warnings are issued by the government. I find a small antique red covered book and am reading it. A man comes over and inspects. He says that it is a shame it is in disrepair. I offer it to him and he accepts as if it is a treasure. He will restore it.

The alien pods have started to cause people to float as if relatively gravity free. This means that I can fly without it causing comment. So, I start bouncing far off the ground for joy. I can see that R is heading a bit too swiftly back to earth so using telekinesis I slow his descent.

I decide that I need to go home and search for a tube station. I have been wandering and come across a Central Line station. The announcer warns that due to fuel shortages they are running a much reduced service. I know that I need to change to the Victoria Line to get home to South London, Brixton. I have not used the tube in decades.  A young woman takes pity on me and helps me find the appropriate station and to use the last ever coin operated ticket machine. The fare is three euros. I take three bright green euro coins out of my pocket in turn and pay for my ticket. Which arrives like an old-school paper bus ticket.

The young woman is going my way. I note that she is skinny and only wearing a white t-shirt. She is cold. I offer her my jacket, which she tries on. It is way too big. I suggest that she sits on my lap and that we both wear the jacket with two arms per sleeve. This will warm her up for the onward journey when we part ways. The tube arrive and heads East to the junction with the Victoria Line. The woman is sat on my lap and we share the jacket until I get off.

I arrive in Brixton. It is pitch black with reduced street lighting and the early hours of the morning. The market from Electric Avenue has spilled out onto the high street because there are no cars running. There is a kind of party atmosphere.

I walk through the market and climb the stairs to my apartment. I enter and close the white door. As a precaution I also slip across the white painted locking bolt. I sit down at the table and boot up my lap top.

I hear a knock at the door. I go closer. A voice says open up the door. I say who is it? It repeats just open the door. The voice is female.

Cautiously I open the door and standing there is a young woman holding an A4 sized porcelain upon which is painted a golden Caduceus superimposed on three intersecting circles such that the point where the snakes head meets the staff is at the centre of the three circles.  She hands me the porcelain and says, “this is yours”. I take the porcelain and it feels light and familiar in my hands. I can also feel it within me.

The dream ends.

Imperial College Office – Explanations Dream 21-01-2025

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Here is last night’s dream. I can think of no reason on this side of the channel for why I had this dream.

The dream starts in my old office in the Department of Chemistry, Imperial College, South Kensington Campus of nearly twenty years ago. Word has gotten round that I am leaving. Several of my colleagues come into the office, they are in a jocular, non-serious mood. They are not aware that I mean business and am not bluffing or negotiating.

I say to them that I do not believe that they can conceptualize the notion of me quitting without pressure or reward. They don’t get that I am doing the opposite of what most people are trying to do, namely, to secure their position and job. They think that I have gone mental, and have mental health problems, that I have somehow lost the plot.

I say that mentality divergence and novel behaviours are often misunderstood and frowned upon. I know that it is a complete non sequitur for them.

I say that acts of renunciation are Christian or monastic behaviours. They look dumfounded. I say that I may be prone to such things.

I say besides I have my book of dreams which I use to guide my life. There are hundreds of dreams. One of them says that he too has dreams and that he understands.

I say take me to human resources and I will sign the document now. We get up and move. At the door I pause and say maybe it might be better to wait until after the weekend to finalise because I have not yet told the wife.

The dream ends and I think that this was out of the blue and weird for something that old.

RSRE QinetiQ Malvern – Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche-Dream 20-06-2021

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It is 7.27 AM I have just woken up and the kettle is on for coffee.  Here is this morning’s dream.

I am at some kind of personal development conference with one of the followers of a different blog. She is somehow convening the course and we are participating together. I tell her that I know where we are. We are at the Royal Signals Research Establishment, RSRE Malvern and that I have been here before. There are a number of us at this event.

There is a break for lunch. I leave the room and get into a lift. The lift takes me to a sub-basement floor by accident where I disembark. I see a men’s toilet and go into it. I stand in front of the urinal for a piss. In the toilet there are a number of young men. They are all talking about semiconductors and semiconductor growth.

I follow them out and into a mess hall where everyone is having lunch. I stand in a queue and behind a couple of youngish men. They too are talking about semiconductor growth.  I interject that I know a little about the subject. They are highly sceptical. I say that I know about MBE, chemical beam epitaxy CBE and MOCVD. This surprises them. I say that I worked with Bruce Joyce whom they have probably heard of. This surprises and interests them. I ask them what they are working on. They say Bragg reflectors. I suggest that they must be using graded materials so as to accommodate the strain between layers as they grow their reflector stacks. Wherever there are two different materials with different lattice parameters there will be strain. This demonstrates some knowledge to them. I say that I have a number of papers with Prof. Jing Zhang. They ask if I would like to see their clean room. Yes, I would.

They run off up some stairs and onto a raised platform. The platform is made out of metal and one can see the floor through it. They jump from one platform to another. I am nervous that I will be unable to make the jump because of the height and my injured hip. When I get there, the gap does not look so large.  I jump over and they lead me downstairs. We are now in the entrance to the clean room. They hand me over to a dark-haired man who is a Tibetan and who is dressed in Tibetan Buddhist monks’ robes. I make to enter the clean room, but he says that I must put on some overshoes first. I do this and he leads me through some doors into the clean room.

I ask him why he is here. He says that he likes to do research and enjoys science. He leads me into a room where there is a large Tibetan Buddhist monk with long grey hair and a large head. He is sat meditating. He is a big man.  My “guide” sits to his right and ushers me to sit to his left. The big man is beaming and radiant. There is a sense of much fun and considerable good-natured mischief to him. I sit down. His “aura” is enjoyable and welcoming, it is full of charm.  He turns to me and gently grabs hold of my chin. He says that I must open my mouth and look upwards. This I do. He carefully inspects my bottom front teeth and is happy with what he has seen. He says that I have the four signs that he has been looking for. He says meditate. I shift quickly into a deep state of meditation. He says of course you can do this I never doubted it. I come back from the state.

–

–

He ushers me to stand up and leads me outside. We look back at the building of RSRE Malvern and to my astonishment tagged on to the research facility is a truly vast Buddhist temple in the Tibetan / Bhutanese style. We are viewing the facility from the Queen’s Lawn in South Kensington. He leads me on and into the temple.

As we enter the building there is a chamber in which many young men dressed as monks are meditating. He says that all of these will want to give me my first hug of welcome. He leads me up to his rooms, his office. I know that I am with Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche and that he has been inspecting me. I recognise him from the you tube footage I have watched, way back.

I awaken and although still tired feel the need to note this dream down. As I am writing I feel the warmth of the being from the dream. He is “here” now somehow with me for the moment.

*He passed away 28 September 1991.