Tag: the dreaming

“Spiritual” Journeys

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

I have used inverted commas quotation mark here because I struggle a little with how words have in a sense become tainted by multiple usage and being bandied about as PR. Spiritual as a word has had its impact and meaning downgraded to the point of near meaninglessness.

I am going to attempt to put into words something which I have hesitated to do. It is close to impossible. This cannot be undertaken without emphasising just how important a few years of my childhood were in my development, in this life. One constellation in particular left its mark deep in my psyche.

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It was by its light during an English language common entrance exam that I foresaw events near two and a half decades later. It was the harbinger and the key of a volte face in life. I left the harbour alone in my coracle adrift upon the Southern ocean lit by its solace. I left Cape Town after being burned on table mountain.

Later I had another foreboding which was also to find consummation over a similar time delay. Each of these were pivotal. That foreboding prevented me making a UCAS university choice against the advice of my school teachers.

When I was young and in an English boarding school as an expat child I got to read the lessons and the prayers in church. While the others sat with parents. It was like a duck to water that I took to the lectern and the prayer “chair” deep in the nave. There I found St Francis of Assisi.

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« Seigneur, faites de moi un instrument de votre paix.
Là où il y a de la haine, que je mette l’amour. »

« C’est en pardonnant qu’on est pardonné,
c’est en mourant qu’on ressuscite à l’éternelle vie. »

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This man was in tune with the Mahayana bodhisattva ideal. His words touched.

Unfortunately those with the skill of a chameleon can adopt any mask, any direction, any character they choose. Believe me I learned how to blend. And in blending one loses authentic essence.

At the end of my schooling I took general studies courses in Buddhism, cooking and Rastafarianism. Ever Jah, ever loving, ever faithful. Rastafari. I read all that I could on witchcraft and alchemy. I made “friends” with the librarian in our town.

The Buddhism was presented in an intellectual descriptive manner in which the various fetters were enumerated for debate. Although I understood, the manner was for me boring and definitional. I sensed beyond that which was being professed. It was during intense meditation sat in seiza at karate that I learned that I had in fact been meditating all of my childhood. I used to sit and observe. I used to wait. I was touched directly by the dreamtime out in the shimmering bush of western Queensland. The aboriginal pointing stick had cleaved something open.

And then when I went to university I mostly forgot. By the time I was doing my Ph.D. research I figured that I had found something I was good at. So maybe this was the future. I enjoyed “pissing about with lasers”. I was to an extent, life and soul of the party. It was only in the early nineties that I started to withdraw, as if driven by a deeper current, out into the hills, the mountains and the countryside. It set up a kind of imbalance. On the one hand was a “normal” life and career. On the other there was silence and quiet. My reading was more intellectual philosophy, science and philosophy of science. I noted that despite mundane academic achievement many of “the greats” struggled with non-salary paying bigger questions.

I was offered a choice. Fort Collins Colorado or Bern Switzerland. One of those would have brought me quicker into contact with things “spiritual” than the other. The Swiss francs were certain, so I saw the Berner Oberland and learned painfully of “qualität”. Something which I tried thenceforth to express.

In the mid nineties at the place of my prior foreboding I was brought to my knees. Despite writing excellent research proposals I was stymied and unfunded. A grudge held by a “competing” senior academic could kill a proposal with a mere word. I had a breakdown. The answer to life the universe and everything could no longer be found in the laws of quantum mechanics and thermodynamics. It seemed there was more. It was around then that my ambition faded and the picture of a life academic dimmed. I began to search in earnest. I opened myself up wide. Again I largely forgot and tried to rebuild a life after breakdown. For some unknown reason money for research and start-up came more easily. I was “successful” for a while.

In the very early part of this century I was tested by power. I had a taste of it and did not abuse. Like Galadriel I refused the ring and was no longer sorely tempted thereby. It was around this time that a series of what might be called micro-renunciations began. In which step-wise I renounced or was forced to renounce the accoutrements of normal life. Each one was more difficult and profound than the last. Slowly life was stripped of all that made it busy and hectic. Until in the middle of 2006 I renounced all and walked off into the metaphorical “wilderness”. Dramatic as that sounds, at face value it looked simple, at core it cleaved and parted, severed and up-ended.

I did not become a wandering mendicant with charnel grounds for abode nor skull cup for beverage. Though adrift I most certainly was. I had already learned as a child, the nature of impermanence. Strangely without accoutrement life did not cease, the world did not implode, nor did it stop.

When you are thrust  from an Outlook calendar ruled life, with hours dissected into segments, with meetings set for you, with each action seemingly accountable, into nothing. The meaning of time changes in an unalterable and irrevocable way. It is no longer a spreadsheet thing. The boxes, the rice paper walls of the day, dissolve.

At end of 2008 I left the map so to speak. I began a series of meditations which went beyond. There was nothing, despite my research skill, which I could find written. These “meditations” continued in the UK in houses close to civilisation yet separate in the English countryside. I can say that the rigor of these was high and they continued for many years. In around 2010-11 I began having Buddhist dreams.

In the early part of the century whilst still teaching physical chemistry I had a series of waking visions in which I had “om mane padme hum” tattooed on my forearms in Sanskrit and with me in monastic robes. These visions were sufficiently powerful to be present whilst I was lecturing Chemical Reaction Kinetics to undergraduates in South Kensington. It was around then that I got to express my compassion for others, to care for them.

Overlaid on a “Toltec” background was a distinctly Buddhist vibe.

All the while I had a seemingly normal life as a married man doing for quite a while “A” level science private tutoring. The outer world and the inner world differed and markedly so.

To me as a member of the elephant dreaming class there is no problem with the scholastic wisdom teachings of Siddartha and the more dramatic Toltec corpus. The latter is a guide, when viewed with clarity, to the navigation of glamour and illusion. There is probably only one truth expressed via many different approaches. The Tower of Babel has a lot to answer for…

This is probably enough for today…

Pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

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Le rasoir d’Ockham ou rasoir d’Occam est un principe de raisonnement philosophique entrant dans les concepts de rationalisme et de nominalisme. Le terme vient de « raser » qui, en philosophie, signifie « éliminer des explications non nécessaires d’un phénomène » et du philosophe du XIVe siècle Guillaume d’Ockham.

Également appelé principe de simplicité, principe d’économie ou principe de parcimonie (en latin « lex parsimoniae »), il dispose d’une ancienne formulation :

    Pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate

    (les multiples ne doivent pas être utilisés sans nécessité)

Dans le langage courant, le rasoir d’Ockham pourrait s’exprimer par les phrases : « L’explication la plus simple est généralement la bonne », ou : « Pourquoi faire compliqué quand on peut faire simple ? » Une formulation plus moderne est que « les hypothèses suffisantes les plus simples doivent être préférées (il faut et il suffit) ». C’est un des principes heuristiques fondamentaux en science, mais ce n’est ni un principe de départ ni un résultat scientifique.

Le principe fait appel à une simplicité en termes de nombre d’entités, de concepts ou d’hypothèses utilisés, et non en termes de complexité de leur combinaison, les deux se contredisant généralement : si vous avez une explication d’un phénomène par la combinaison de deux causes séparées, le principe incite à rechercher une cause unique plus profonde qui serait à l’origine des causes préalablement postulées, ce qui donnera finalement, en cas de succès, une construction plus complexe mais avec un nombre plus réduit d’hypothèses.

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One of the interesting thoughts for me which pertains slightly to this blog relates to finding an internally consistent and comprehensive explanation as to the nature of the dreams I have had and which are archived in this blog. I would genuinely be interested to hear any explanation from the psychology / psychiatry profession which attempts to explain the scope of them. This specifically so given my prior training as a scientist and current life context as a relatively socially isolated retired person.

Those dreams which appear to point at previous incarnations can be discounted as merely dreams. There is no need to invoke the hypothesis of reincarnation. But saying things are just dreams is a bit of a handwaving dismissal. It is not entirely satisfactory.

Invocation of the single hypothesis of reincarnation renders explanation easier in context and does not require any complicated theorising as to just why or how come I dream about, inter alia, Buddhist themed, dreams. Inherent in this is a difficulty because it suggests that there needs to be some mechanism of transfer of memory between different lives, different incarnations. It raises the question as to what exactly is the nature of the “thing” which not only reincarnates but which is able to carry memory and recollection in the absence of a biological body. The neuroscientist is likely to prefer a brain and perhaps evolving synaptic scaffold construct to explain memory. Such a thing cannot exist beyond the soft wet matter of living humanity. There is no biological or biochemical hypothesis which can account for the notion of memory transfer between lives. The science fiction writer or scientifically inarticulate new-ager might say, “it is all in the DNA”.  If it were, it is not facile to explain how “Buddhist DNA” found its way to a small valley in the foothills of Snowdon. Yes my mother when tanned could pass for an Indian especially if she wore a bindi. But the DNA explanation does not really wash. My dad was ginger.

The easiest explanation is to blame an overactive imagination on my part which somehow breaks though during sleep. Perhaps there is a part of my deep sub-conscious which wants to be “special” and thereby invents some new DSM-5 type nocturnal mental disorder, the classification of which could be career enhancing for some psychologist or other. I have a form of delusional psychopathy which may or may not be common. After all who in their right mind would make dreams like mine public? Best kept secret to avoid public gaze. We can come up with the Whacko McNutjob persona.

The fact of the dreams and their recall are, at least to me, real. My speculation is that they are not “common or garden”.

This does not require the invocation of significance. I am just some bloke who happens to dream a lot. No biggie…

Provided that they are not significant there is no wider problem or issue.

If however we invoke, even tentatively, a putative wider significance, a gamut of implications might surface. A similarity to mystical vision and quasi-religious imagery can be drawn. In some circles that is significant in terms of context and perhaps faith. The follow on question might be, “why does someone who, was for a short while, deep in the UK based science community have such phenomena?”. This community being the self-assigned debunker of myths and pseudoscience. “Bah!!”

One could say that weird stuff happens, end of story. It  / he is just an anomaly.

The easiest hypothesis is that the hundreds of dreams archived here are all “just some shit that I made up”. The follow on to this is that I must therefore have at least some imagination and persistent inventiveness. One could counter with the deep philosophical argument, “you just can’t make shit like this up!” I am not sure as to what the motive might be for this inventiveness though others could speculate freely. Maybe I am simply an attention seeker. Maybe it is all some big game to make people question the extent and wider applicability of their self-diagnosed omniscience.

For me it is just habit. If I have a dream which I can recall and am lucid in, when I get up of a morning,  I type it up in Word.  I sometimes make a short note on a post it before typing. There are close to 100 dreams in 2025.

I personally have no strong need to pick an explanation and have that as a definite. A part of the art of dreaming is to enjoy the unknown and the partially or poorly explained.

I can see multiple implications which will almost certainly never manifest. Life circumstance does not support these weekly possible trajectories. There is nothing I can do about it.

I could say something groovy…

The coalescence of the dreaming onto and into the physical plane is not easy. Surprisingly little, though nascent in dreaming, makes it through into the “agreed” and “shared” physical plane realties.

He is just a feckless dreamer, head in the clouds…

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Each of us make our own versions of reality not all of which are entirely apt.

The Shit Hits the Fan Dream 17-20-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

I could not think of a better title for this. This dream was hectic swirling and as such some of the detail {believe it or not} is scant of recall. Yet the feeling of something breaking through from the dreaming and under some kind of “pressure” so to do is strong. The feeling is of “out of my hands” and “beyond my control”. In the dream I am unconcerned by the “nascent” chaos, I am calm in the storm.

The dream opens on a large rural property in France. It is our property but not the current one. In the corner of the property by the gate and the house I note first a ship container like builders’ office. There are JCBs and assorted land moving machines. A canteen. There are piles of building materials like gravel and hardcore. There are bricks and beams. They do not have my permission to be there.

I go over to the cabin and demand to see the site manager. I ask him what the fuck he is doing there, what the fuck are they doing? He says that we thought you would like it. We are doing it for you.

I explain to him that he could not be more thoroughly mistaken. It is not what I want. It is not what I desire. They do not have my permission and that to try to imagine what I want is sheer fucking idiocy. I say that unless they start packing up soon, I will come back with my shotgun. Under no circumstance is their imagined plan a good idea nor what I want. It is a fucking mess.

I go off to the house and come back with an SLR camera and start taking photos of people and kit, collecting evidence. The site “manager” is on the ‘phone to his boss who subsequently turns up. He says that we thought you would like it and that the plans are too late to stop. I say to him that stop they will, or I will make an inordinate hoo-hah and a scene the likes of which they have never seen before. I am already transmitting images to the press and the mayor’s office. They send JCBs etc. to threaten the mayor’s office but I have forewarned the press and the local community who are waiting for them. The whole situation is escalating beyond their control. I have leaked the financial accounts from the building group and its parent company and searches into their propriety are under way. I say that I warned them not to do things without asking me thinking that it is “what I would want”. Thinking that they know what I would want. Thinking that I would accept it and be pleased. I say to them that they have no fucking idea and that this mess is just the beginning. The mess, the shit has started hitting the fan big time.

{Implicit is again and the language use is as recalled from the dream}.

The scene changes and I am arriving at a Cotswold stone library with stained glass arched church like windows. Outside the library are a several reporters with cameras and microphones. They have heard that I am coming and are waiting to ambush me. I walk through the crowd, and several people push microphones in front of me. I say that I will organise a more civilised conference and not a scrum. I’ll set up in the town hall so please to be patient.

Later in the town market hall there is a press conference. It turns out the reporters have been investigating every aspect of my life from my schooling, where I went to university and which universities I have taught at. They have been doing a deep dive investigation into my life. The implications for the institutions have been big. I don’t care overmuch because I have nothing to hide. The search has also been security service themed. They too have been doing a deep dive look. The institutions are in “trouble” from a PR perspective because they have been trying to clamp down and keep secret / quiet which has only encouraged a wider and deeper interest. “What are they trying to hide?” being a journalistic motivator. British academia in particular is under scrutiny. The journalists start by asking me about mundane aspects of my current life. The whole thing is chaotic and out of control. I am completely unfazed, the snowball effect has started.

The scene changes to a European possibly Swiss university. It becomes clear that this is in fact Bern. My former supervisor is putting on a laser and light festival for the town at Christmas. I warn him via his secretary about the ongoing investigation. He is unperturbed and asks if I would like to help him with the light show. I say it is a good idea; I would like to but probably best for the event if I stay away.

As I am coming to, I am slightly tired because of the hectic nature of the dream and unsurprised at the theme of other people thinking that they know what is best for me and what it is that I want. When as is always they case they have no fucking idea. The feeling is that something has now been started which must simply unfold. Chaos may be on the wind.

I wake up thinking along the lines of same shit different day.

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

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

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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What is Safe to Ignore?

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The ongoing foray into medical things has thrown up a few things which may or may not be safe to ignore. As a part of the ongoing saga I am going to have a full cardiovascular MOT or road worthiness test. The presence of excess iron has many knock on implications and I have already been prescribed one medication which is no longer recommended.

You can call me rusty.

It is a long old haul and the garden is suffering a bit from lack of attention.

It seems so far that the Jury has decided that I don’t have five of the genetic mutations which I have tested for. I am going to discuss these further, a little. My status as a mutant has not yet been confirmed.

Traditional western medicine is based upon symptoms. By the time symptoms are apparent disease has arrived. More recently tests are done with a mind to early prophylaxis where possible. What may be, is clear in some case and less so in others. The UK mass newspapers are full of misdiagnosis horror stories.

“I went to see multiple GPs. They sent me home with a box of Rennie’s. Later in A&E after I tripped up on the way home from the pub, they found a basketball size alien tumour of extraplanetary origin growing in my kidney. I have two and half weeks to live!”

These cases are rare and anomalous. The tendency is to discount and not pay sufficient attention to things which do not fit your story, your view of how things might be.

“It is impossible to have extra planetary tumours growing in the kidneys. They are usually found in the spleen!! Everyone knows this! DOH.”

People can be very dismissive about things which later turn out to be highly important. They ignore things which are not safe to ignore.

I like to offer people options. The easiest option is that I am an eccentric borderline nut-job burn out. I suspect that as an explanation this would find purchase in the minds of many. It is a pigeonhole into which I can be fitted easily. I can then be ignored. I may be briefly entertained but never taken seriously. To develop this a little further. If one is enamoured with intrigue, one could say that whacko-nut-job-eccentric is my cover.

With a high degree of certainty one can predict answers to certain questions. This is because denial is a Pavlovian response in some. I have asked a number of people if they feel they have unresolved karma with me. To date no-body has answered that question. Nobody has tried. They have ignored it and let it drop. It is easy to discard and discount. On my part it has been a genuine and well-intended question very largely for their benefit. But of course people know best and are unwilling to do the work needed to answer a question of moderate depth and wide implication. People want to preserve face above all else. FOLOF, fear of loss of face.

Is such a question safe to ignore?

In the “normal” world and within its confines and rules, yes. But this is a world and philosophy bridging question and the limited “normal” context loses its imagined wide applicability. Ignoring such a question ignores and devalues a way of being held by hundreds of millions of people.

A lot of people think small details can be ignored. A prime minister preaching about lock down may deem it his God-given right to party. Ignoring, conveniently, the detail which he said that we didn’t ought. A small detail ignored can come back to bite you on the bum with rabid and perhaps gangrenous teeth.

“The law was not broken in its strictest and most convenient {for us} interpretation.”

Obsessing about detail can be very tiring. So knowing what is and is not important makes life easier. We all make choices and assign priorities whether consciously or by default.

People may argue the toss when it is very unwise so to do. The toss once argued for cannot be u-turned always. You may have won the toss but you can be up shit creek in a barbed wire canoe without a paddle. The toss will not keep you warm in a nuclear winter.

My own opinion is that it is not safe to ignore your dreams. Experimental evidence has suggested this to me. This morning’s dream had someone I once knew trying to manipulate a situation, to find some kind of pretext. It was suggested that some kind of trap is in preparation. It revolves around the number of conspiracy three, three people. In every conspiracy there has to be at least three. Without being paranoid I am opening myself up to the dream both at night and during the day to see what, if anything, the dreaming has to add to this morning’s dream.

It is very easy to imagine important and significant the wrong things entirely.

We can ignore the things we did not ought to. We may need to pay strict attention and focus to things which we might otherwise flippantly ignore.

What is safe to ignore?

Hegseth – Metreweli – Dream Snippet 19-06-2025

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

This snippet follows on from a feeling of having at edge of consciousness.

Yesterday afternoon late I had a strong sensation of Peter Hegseth at the periphery of consciousness, there was an awareness of him meeting Trump. And then subsequently just him.

This from late last night.

The snippet starts with some kind of “zoom” like call between the USA and London. For whatever reason Hegseth is talking with Ms. Metreweli the head of MI6 in waiting. I know her face from the news. Even more bizarrely I am somehow linked to this conversation. This conversation goes on for a while. They are developing their working relationship and understanding.

The snippet ends. I am surprised that these should spring into the dreaming.

On waking this morning, I look up the name of the new head of MI6 and read a wiki page about Hegseth.

I look up my uncle’s MBE citation and see it was signed my Major General J M Kirkman who was head of Military Intelligence Berlin in 1950. The implication being that my uncle was MI too.

The feeling this morning is that something weirdly masonic is in the air.

Dreaming – I Don’t Mind What Happens

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One can find Jiddu Krishnamurti quoted as saying that his secret is that he does not mind what happens. This implies a lack of any goal orientation, preferred outcome, expectation or attachment. He may have omitted, “I do not mind what happens to me.” If one lives in the eternal now there is no concern for past or future, simply moment. One is not chained by the manacles of “what if” or of “if only.” There is a confidence that one can handle everything which life and the universe offers, free of prejudice. Even if that seems unpleasant and challenging. One is confident in ability to improvise and cope.

I have talked about my medical conditions here, which would be rather dramatic for many. It is just a fact of life for me. OMG spinal surgery may be involved… He has seen a brain surgeon and is getting a cancer check up in May….

There is not too much drama in my mind. The pain can be a tad boring. I don’t think there is an exact translation into French. Monotonous is probably close but does not have the nuance.

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I am not worried about what if anything happens to whatever it is that I may or may not know. The thought forms exist now and could be accessed in the web of life in due course. If and when the time is due. I don’t currently see a use for me. I am surplus.

The dreaming takes time, decades sometimes.

I have had the first hint, in the dream this morning, that the time in France maybe drawing to a close. There has not been much for me here. The French are not very pro-active. I am in no way integrated. There will be no significant material plane impact should I leave. Only the medics and the checkout ladies will notice.

I have a few more medical appointments programmed. Then, soon, it will be the big summer holidays. Unless the colonoscopy shows anything sinister, that will probably be it until the Autumn. I will get my asthma medication renewed in July. I am not anticipating any solution, any diagnosis and treatment that will result in significant alleviation of symptoms. It looks to me that I dotting and T crossing data collection is occurring.

Following on from the dream we have been looking at on-line estate agents again. Affordability coupled with relative southerly locations limits us to probably South and West Wales in the UK. The property situation in France remains constipated. We need proximity and communications to university grade hospitals.

The problem is that the world is swirling. The web of life has been whacked unnecessarily by orange-boi.  The Nikkei and the Hang Seng could tank further in a few short hours. This is a factor which is against any house moving.

A house move is the dreaming symbol for adopting a new view of the world. Here it is expansive, it has gotten too big. Perhaps the need is simply to shrink and consolidate.

We shall see what the dreaming suggests. It will influence our decisions significantly. The dreaming will show us the way.

I don’t mind what happens – the dreams will suffice.

Blue Corridor-Massive Owl Dream 5-2-22

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

This morning’s dream was the most vividly coloured one I have had in many years.

I am in a car with my wife. We are driving down a narrow street and I am looking for an entrance in the walls. I will know it when I see it. There is an opening, and the walls are pointed with immaculately cut stone blocks. I know this is the place. The wife is hesitant in case it is private property. I say that I have seen this place a number of times in the dreaming. I turn right into the opening. The car we are driving is our right-hand drive Peugeot 207. As we enter the properties the walls are of a vibrant and almost radiant royal blue. The colour is very intense. We drive several metres down this tunnel.

The ground has dark red granite-based gravel. The tunnel heads off ahead of us. There is a turning to the right also with the intense blue walls. I take this turning and it leads to an immaculate courtyard in front of a grand French town house. There is a short staircase leading to the front door. I take this staircase. The door opens before me and a corridor leads me up into a large wooden floored ornate ballroom. It is a bit chavvy like Versailles.

The ball room is twenty to thirty metres long. At the far end of the room on a heavily decorated antique table is a huge ornate bird cage. It is about 1.5 metres tall and 1 metre in diameter. Inside the cage is a huge owl. The owl is almost as big as the cage. It stares right at me and then fluffs up all its feathers around its head to make a big circle. It then relaxes them and repeats this several times. The owl and I are staring at each other and there is a sense of being at-one with this owl. I sense that it is caught in its gilded cage. But the owl knows that it can at any time de-materialise the cage. This it does and the cage vanishes. The owl then stands on the table and fluffs up its feathers again whilst maintaining eye-contact.

I feel an enormous sense of camaraderie with the owl.

The dream ends.