Tag: spell

Chaotic Mess – Rare Slow Soul Magic – Dream 12-12-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Sleep last night came in two segments 12 – 2:30 and after an hour of TV, 4 to 7. In “A Discovery of Witches” season two last night Diana masters the ninth knot, the spell of endings and beginnings, the knot of completion(s). Implicit is inherent in this is also the tenth knot. Diana a weaver and time walker prepares to travel back to modern day.

The first part is in the early sleep and shallow. I am with the ex-wife. She wants to show me what is going on in the village. She insists that I go to see what has become of the village pubs. She is curious and very nosey. She wants all the gossip. Reluctantly I go with her and one of the pubs is under new management. He is trying to make a go of it. The pub is in a state of mess and undergoing renovation. A part of it is open for business. We go in and he asks what I want. I ask for a pint of Guiness and it takes long while to pour and settle. The ex-wife has a half of bitter and proceeds to go around chatting at/with everyone else in the pub. I ask the landlord about his plans.

We move off to the next pub. This is more lively and all the village folk some from out of town and some born are ostentatiously getting pissed  up. The air is of forced jollity, almost an anxious jollity. This pub is better lit. The locals all stare at me. Once again the ex-wife works the room talking to everyone and gossiping about life in the village and in general. I do not see the point of it in the dream. The pub is a mess and someone needs to do a glasses round and wipe down tables. There is a hint of Christmas party and the TV in the pub is blaring away in the background. It is harsh to the senses.

I awake for some poor TV, a pill and two lion bars.

Back now in the dream I am upstairs in a retreat centre type house. It is redbrick and old. On the other side of a single track road is a chest height red-brick and flint wall behind which is a substantial weir and mill race. The river is powerful and the water deep and of a green hue due to the weeds. I know the building I am in is aligned to the old water mill. It is a part of the complex. The feel is very similar  to Llangollen. The smell is similar too; we are near mountains. I am lying on the bed with the window open. The net curtains are blowing lightly in the breeze and I can hear the deep bass rumble of the water on the weir.

I hear a key in the door downstairs and in walks Paul and Emma. (Walker). They walk through into the kitchen and I can hear the keys being thrown into a small ceramic pot / ashtray. The pot is glazed agate green. I can hear Paul complaining to Emma about me. He complains how things can be messy after I have been and that although the mess is not mine it is in response to me that the chaos and mess ensues.  He is not happy about me being there and wants me to go. His unwelcome is widely held among many people. I do not do what they deem I ought to.

I come down stairs and Paul intuits that I have heard what he has been saying. He asks if I have heard.  I affirm. He says that there is no point pretending then. I say that I am not in the least bit upset. I have something to show him. In the kitchen are plates and cutlery unwashed. He looks at them with scorn. We all go out into a walled garden and to a stand-up wooden table in a “beer-garden” private to the property and which overlooks the weir.

I say to Paul that I possess a special rare type of magic. This he doubts as otherwise I would have used the magic to clean up. I say that this magic is not of a material kind, the kind for tricks and show. I say that my magic is a special kind of magic known by some as Soul magic. This magic is of a very slow effect. It is a slow Soul magic. He is sceptical.

I hold up my left hand and a brown hen’s egg appears in it. This catches his attention. It cracks and the top comes off. It is now like a soft boiled egg ready for eating in “dippy eggs”. I say to him that my magic, the deeper magic, pertains only to the Soul. It is not mundane. In the dream he understands that the egg is a metaphor for the Souls. I say that yes I can and do work directly with the Soul(s).

The dreaming view looks down at the soft yolky egg from above and then zooms out to a side view. A small amount of yolk has run down from the egg along my fingers and onto my white inner wrist. I say that even Soul magic is of two kinds, the magic of the Souls evolving through lifetimes and that of the spark within. True magic is about the creation and enveloping of the spark within a Soular casing, the egg of lives. The ultimate magic is about liberation in which the ovoid shell, the eggy casing of the Soul is rent and evaporates only to leave the spark within and thence throughout. Soul magic is about encapsulation and liberation. It is beyond the sight of most and not to the everyday taste.

As they watch the egg starts to dissolve shimmering into space with a shimmering of tiny golden insubstantial flecks. Leaving a tiny bright yellow-orange radiant spark or flame. Which is suspended above my fingers. Paul and Emma are temporarily transfixed. They come to with a jolt and all they can see is my upstretched left hand with fingers touching from where the egg once was. They can see a small trickle of bright yellow yolk against the white inner skin of my wrist.

The dream zooms out and looks directly into the depths of the water going over the mill race weir. I know that those prone to the chaos of the West struggle to see the beautiful order and patterns of time.

I come to and feel the stiffness in my hips and lower back…

Air Israel – Kabbala – Golden Orbs – Keter – Dream 08-03-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

This dream is from around 6 AM this morning. I have been waking because of pain in my lower spine and sacroiliac joints. I have been taking ~4 AM paracetamol to mitigate this.

The dream starts at an airport. The weather is warm and dry. On the tarmac with two boarding staircases is a jet air craft. In an angular script is written in large blue letters Air Israel. I am queuing with others to board the plane. There are people of all ages but the background is of wealth and the majority of them are Jewish. There are a few Hassidim with beaten up small leather carry-ons. There is a hub-bub of conversation. I climb the stairs and am welcomed by the cabin crew. Because of my appearance and colouring there is implicit an initial understanding that I am Jewish too. I take my seat on the aisle next to a couple with a toddler. The man is older than the woman and they are of American origin.

The flight takes off and I go to the galley to get food. The interior of the plane is now like the ground floor of a hotel with seminar tooms and a plenary. At the galley they are serving a very meat heavy dish with soup and dumplings, it is garlic rich. I move on to the self-service area. There is a selection of salads. I select one with lettuce and green lentils. I sit at a table and am soon joined by several young people who are in high spirits, they are anticipating their holidays, their stay on a kibbutz in the wilderness away from their parents.

Soon everyone moves to the plenary. A middle aged woman is on stage and she is throwing out pieces of puzzles. The idea is to use these pieces to construct a kabbalistic tree of life, Otz Chim. Everyone has flip chart paper, pens, scissors, card, string, glue and blue tac. The exercise is to keep people occupied on the flight. I catch some of the resources which the woman is throwing.

I start to build my tree of life. I start to make a three dimensional model between four vertical pillars. These pillars are about 2 cm in diameter and like Greco-Roman architecture pillars with striations top to bottom. They are gilded in a silver-gold mix. I build my tree of life in a quasi-helical fashion and not plan form. Each of the sephirah in my model is constructed out of a golden orb which I pull out of my pocket. The orbs are table tennis ball size and are decorated with an equatorial golden overlay motif. They are suspended in free space with no path structure. I pull out the last orb, Keter, and place it on top of the tree. Within the columns there is still top room for the veils of unmanifest. Keter is unusual in that it has to it a visor, like on a motorcycle helmet.

The woman on the stage suggests that we all switch tables and compare our handiwork. I join the table of a matriarch and her two late teen sons. I know that they are soon off to university. The woman looks at my tree and says that it in not bad for a goy. I open the visor on Keter and the model is filled with a radiant light, it comes to life. I say to her that the secret is Malkuth. She says don’t you mean Keter. I say yes, I deliberately mixed them up.

One of the sons comes over to me and takes out some tracing paper he is very keen to measure the dimensions of my design. He asks why there are no words on the paths and the sephirah like on everybody else’s designs. He says they could be in English or Hebrew. I say to him that if you need to use words then you have not understood nor attained the sephiroth. Words are by way of spells and are distractions from the path(s). The young man is excited and wants to learn from / with me.

In the dream I wonder if, because of the pain in my lower spine, Malkuth, I am under some form of psychic or occult attack. I make a resolution to look into it and if needed call up a Vajrapāṇi for protection.

The dream ends.