The Not Invented Here Syndrome

I’ll kick this off with a statement

People are evangelical about the comprehensive nature of their self-diagnosed omniscience.

They are convinced that they know best and seek to promote and otherwise sell their approach(es). After all education is a business and bums on seats keep the pennies flowing into coffers. Religion too is a business and the treasuries must be kept full. Politics too is a business. In all of these cash flow is important. Self-marketing is important for livelihood. One must strive for supremacy and market domination.

I have encountered and been repulsed by the not invented here syndrome many times which can be paraphrased,

“We know best, fuck off with your strange and foreign ideas!! We love Status Quo.”

I once met a young man who tried to persuade me that Vajrayana practice was very difficult, like scaling a cliff. It was very hard but promised high gain yet the risks of falling and getting very badly hurt were high. He was showing off a little. I thought to myself, “try the warrior’s path sunshine and that might change your attitude…”

It is all a bit cock wavy. “My path is harder and more macho than yours!”

If you read and consider deeply the aphorism from the rule of the three pronged nagal above you can see that it is not facile or shallow. This insight comes from direct experiential contact with The VOID. It is a part of the inner subjective teachings of the Toltec schema. Perhaps akin by extrapolation to inner Kalachakra.

I have joked that I am a quantum yogi, in a geek-yogi superposition state. As such I am suspected by scientists and suspected by yogis because I not one thing or the other. I am not pure. Like the driven snow I am tainted by other thought forms. Yuk!!

I probably am quite well placed to do a balanced compare and contrast for many different ways of thinking.

Sometimes one needs more than verbatim translation to carry across meaning. People can argue when in fact they are in agreement.

They are just not willing to listen with an open mind and a willingness to find common ground…

The call of the soap box can be irresistible…

Cockney have name like Treey, Arthur and Del-boy
We have name like Winston, Lloyd and Leroy
We bawl out YOW! While cockneys say OI!
What cockney call a Jack’s we call a Blue Bwoy
Say cockney have mates while we have spar
Cockney live in a drum while we live in a yard
Say we nyam while cockney get capture
Cockney say guv’nor. We say Big Bout ya
In a de Cockney Translation!
In a de Cockney Translation!

Smiley Culture

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Significant and Normal

Many people might wish to fit in and be “normal”. That is comply and not be the sore thumb of life. These may seek to blend with a peer group if they are not normal in the populace at large. Geeky McGeekface is more at home with others of similar persuasion and not comfortable being with the popular plastic fantastic.

I will speculate that I am not within two standard deviations of the peak of the normal distribution of intellect. By this I am already slightly abnormal. It is not really significant because there are many way further out. They will have a higher IQ according to how these things are measured and be much better at conventional examinations than me. I am not normal but not significantly abnormal either.

On other metrics I may be more of an outlier or anomaly. It is not my ego or desire to be weird which is suggesting that, rather a detached observation. I don’t particularly want to be special or different, but I am or appear to be, a bit odd. Socially I am not a mixer and socio-politically I do not play the itchy back game so enamoured of by many. Because I am less easy to leverage by “what is in it for me” people may deem me less tractable to control and/or ready manipulation. I do not play “the” game. I am not one of “US”. I am not “good people”.

My bones have osteoporosis so they are among the 0.5% too thin for my age and sex. This is significant enough for the medics to want to medicate me in case I end up in A&E with another fracture.

What each of us finds significant depends upon our terms of reference and the world which we perceive and assimilate. Thousands watched “the Lionesses” on The Mall this afternoon. They are mostly normal in this respect. I watched a bit on TV. Does that make me normal?

Life circumstance has me/us where we are, living the way we do. Our impact on the outer world is minuscule because we do not interact overmuch. In the grand scheme of things human we are not significant. Though in the past we have both changed and facilitated many lives. Our life circumstance and health in particular, limits us. Because there is no fairy godmother our life circumstance is very unlikely to change and even it did, there is no dynamic reserve of time and energy to offer. To an extent we are spent.

Put me in a car on the M25 and I may not cope. I can no longer hack the outside world. A few glancing interactions perhaps and that is about it. Even if someone wanted it otherwise, it isn’t and cannot be. I have not been in a proper city for more than a week or so in the last six years and that for hospital / health reasons. I am a bumpkin these days…Life circumstance has me away from the crowd. It is better for me and probably for them too.

Here is an aphorism pertaining to the rule of the three pronged nagal from the Toltec Teachings by Théun Mares

This is not a normal example or tract of text. The question might be, “is it significant?”.

As is so often the case, it depends upon context. It sounds grandiose and might fleetingly captivate the attention. To the vast majority of people it has no personal significance and at best might be a curiosity. People are concerned with Facebook, Insta and TikTok. This type of thing would be abnormal to them. It is not abnormal to me.

I think it fair and accurate to speculate that what is normal and significant for/to me is abnormal and insignificant for others.

Thus we are in the subjective. Normality and significance are not objective, people make {personal} judgments which may or may not be rational concerning these notions. At the moment its seems normal to bomb the fuck out of Gaza and starve the people. This is normal for some but abnormal, brutal and evil to my eyes. The Palestinian death toll is more significant on Al Jazeera, less so on the BBC.

So-called normality is not always a strong recommendation for being better. Significance can depend upon prejudices and alliance.

If I was a mosquito, I would be grossly insignificant, unless I were in your bedroom of a hot summer night, and a bit peckish. Then for a few hours I could be significant.

Significance has a temporal component. It was once normal to have slaves. Slavery was more significant for the slaves than for the masters. That normality is now shunned and people are asked to accept the significance of their past slave ownership. Nothing can undo the abuse and torture.  A few quid here and there, a public apology, does not change one single lash of the whip.

Being normal may not be all that it is cranked up to be!

Normality has a checkered past…

Who knows what is normal for you, right now, may in time be seen as a misguided travesty. But for the time being you have the comfort of your peer group to tell you, “We concur old chap” and that everything is just dandy.

I am not sure that anything normal has brought about progress, ever. In that sense being normal is largely insignificant.

The Old Guard and Toltecs – Speculations

The second instalment of the Old Guard series has recently hit Netflix. It has a shared plotline of sorts with the Highlander movies of ere. In this Old Guard dramatization physical plane immortals exist adjoint humanity and interact to either good or bad effect depending on mood and predilection. In Highlander in the end there can be only one in the battle between good and evil. In the Old Guard series “Andy” the main protagonist has fought to help, aid and otherwise nudge humanity in a “better” direction. Instead of reincarnating she has one contiguous and very long life in which she preserves her super model looks despite getting slashed and shot. A magical and miraculous healing occurs. She loses her regeneration powers and then regains them.

In each the burden of endless longevity / immortality is touched upon. They do not dwell overmuch on the boredom aspect rather the action and power angle. The omnipotence may appeal to the burdened and downtrodden. It may titillate the sociopath and the narcissist.

For dramatic impact pivotal points in global {human} history are referenced. An allied them is to be found in the “Assassins Creed” franchise though in this case reincarnation is invoked and a DNA bloodline is the bearer and propagator of ongoing conflicts.

It has been suggested to me that the so-called Toltecs were incarnated around pivotal times and played a role behind the scenes in the evolution of human and planetary history. Given that the technique of erasing personal history is part and parcel of the training, it is not surprising that little historical refence can be found. In the Old Guard Andy tries to avoid publicity. However in this day and age and thanks to internet monitoring and various intelligence services it is impossible to leave no trace. The times have changed.

In the Toltec tradition there is such a thing as a nagal being. The word Nagual in Spanish American is similar. The word Naga in the Indian tradition does not differ in root. In the hagiography of Buddhism Siddartha is protected by king cobra, a naga-raja, from the rain. These nagas live in the place or world of the nagas, naga-loka. Wisdom can be elicited from nagas and naga-loka. Serpents are the dreaming symbol for wisdom.

This suggests via speculation and extrapolation that a nagal being was a contemporary and perhaps companion of Shakyamuni Buddha.

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“There is unanimous agreement that Nāgārjuna (ca 150–250 CE) is the most important Buddhist philosopher after the historical Buddha himself and one of the most original and influential thinkers in the history of Indian philosophy. His philosophy of the “middle way” (madhyamaka) based around the central notion of “emptiness” (śūnyatā) influenced the Indian philosophical debate for a thousand years after his death; with the spread of Buddhism to Tibet, China, Japan and other Asian countries the writings of Nāgārjuna became an indispensable point of reference for their own philosophical inquiries. A specific reading of Nāgārjuna’s thought, called Prāsaṅgika-Madhyamaka, became the official philosophical position of Tibetan Buddhism which regards it as the pinnacle of philosophical sophistication up to the present day.”

Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Nāgārjuna (नागार्जुन). – Name of an ancient Buddhist teacher of the rank of बोधिसत्त्व (bodhisattva).

Wisdom Library

The name also appears in the wider Hindu sources predating Shakyamuni Buddha

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Typically a three pronged nagal is said to distribute knowledge widely. Like a stone thrown into a pond.  If Nāgārjuna is a wider term for a nagal teacher in the Indian sub-continent then this suggests that the core Toltec and Vedic / Buddhist teachings are similarly sourced and may differ only in method of expression and verbalisation. The term is a generic and not a specific and personal name.

I personally have not found any huge glaring clashes between these philosophies. There is a marked difference in emphasis and the cultural refence points and metaphors employed.

The entertainment mentioned above is not completely inconsistent with a hierarchy of spiritual “masters” on overwatch of humanity. However in order to make it dramatically appealing they must have meaty bits and interpersonal relations such as love with hints of corporeal hanky-panky.

Too abstract and the film would not sell. The immortals have to be beautiful people if good and have ugliness if bad. One is not allowed a minger of an immortal. They must be L’Oréal advert fresh out of the shower from time to time.

Having a “hot” teacher can badly detract from learning.

It is not difficult to see that the course of human history did indeed pivot around relatively small and local acts. The execution of Jesus ended up being a game changer. The invention of antibiotics added number density to humanity.  An assassination was used as a pretext for the first world war. If there is tension a simple fuse is all that is needed to ignite. A miscalculation in a Bay of Pigs might cause a nuclear winter. The simple protection of a Buddha from the rain enabled the propagation of the teachings for mind.

Humanity is prone to flying off the handle in rage and “self-righteous” indignation. Humanity has a “cob” on and is very prone to fits of angry pique which kill hundreds of thousands.

In the absence of overwatch might the history of humanity have been even more bloody and brutal?

We are heading into unknown territories with AI and Drone-robotics. What are the two biggest markets? War and sex. Thus humanity will expend effort into developing these for profit applications. Since the theoretical abolition of slavery humanity seeks a replacement.  I read yesterday that progress toward in vitro spermatogenesis is advancing, if the same continues for human eggs it may be possible to make a human-like foetus. A synthetic human is unlikely to have an indwelling Soul. This biological dabbling and getting a blind boner for technology represents a Pandora’s box the lid of which humanity will find difficult to resist. What is unleashed now and later in this century may cease to be readily controllable. The temptation of cash and the arrogant appeal of God-like potential may lead humanity down a very dark path indeed. It may regret…

How might Andy and the Highlander come to the rescue?

My nagal {Nagual} Themed Dreams Collected

In chronological order:

Ghurkha – Caduceus Dream 13-03-2011

I am somehow going around town spraying foam on people I walk with others, and this is for their protection.

I go into a shop. It is old and wooden there. A Ghurkha dressed in a kilt is there, he is talking with the shopkeeper.  I tell him that my dad used to work with the 7th army, specifically he was assigned to the Seventh Ghurkha Regiment.

I note the golden medal he is wearing. On it are a golden Caduceus and an image of a swastika. {the correct non-Nazi way round}. He had not seen the swastika before and is a little upset. I explain that I have a golden caduceus too. It is not with me today as it is being examined by another of his kind who is also looking at my Father’s will.

In real life my physical plane father did indeed work with Ghurkhas in the Malayan Emergency and as I have just found out 7th Gurkha Rifles was there at the same time.  He was given a Kukri by the Ghurkhas as a gift of honour. I remember it well. He was Second Lieutenant acting Captain in REME during his national service.  Because they believed in fate, he said that they had absolutely no fear and did crazy stuff full of courage. I did not know of the number of Ghurkha regiments until 10 minutes ago.

{This added text written in 2023}

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Trigonal Pyramids –Tricorn Hat – Splitting Dream 27-03-2011

I am returning from a flight and arrive at the airport. There is a sense of extensive travel. There is an image of Rob. He is splitting in two, he has two heads. In my hand I hold the “reflexis” cube. In which I see this. This cube is an “impossible” geometric object made up of two trigonal pyramids to make a cube, the top surface of which is highly reflective.

I am sharing a flat with Rob. A man comes to fix his stereo. He is giving attention to his valve amps. He says to me with a wink that my type of amplifier is better. I comment that I only had to change the valves once. Rob’s amp has an element of show whilst mine is more practical. The valves on my amp are glowing.

Later I am going for a meeting and arrive at Oxford Street. I notice Rob heading to UCL. He does not see me nor recognise me. I am wearing sunglasses. I try to talk with him. All roads lead to UCL.

Then in another world Rob has willed himself into the court. He is in every room at the same time. He is dressed as a jester with a three-pointed tricorn hat. In one room he is multi-coloured in and other room he is black and white to match the black and white tiled floor. It is only since he has been split that he can do this. They are waiting for me.

Outside as I approach there is a cat watching some hedgehogs and rabbits play on the lawn. The cat pounces on a hedgehog and gets a “thorn” in its paw. I help it and get the thorn out; I say to it that it is being silly. It then watches the rabbits and pounces on one. It has a small one in its mouth which it is going to eat. I note this and move off into the court.

The dream the repeats itself several times, especially the bit about the splitting, the “reflexis” cube and the image of the jester like figure in a tricorn hat.

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Triskélion La Maison Dieu Dream- 4-11- 2011

I am flying over landscape after landscape watching towers made of rough-hewn stone being struck by lightning. One after the other they are ruptured and destroyed. They are of all shapes and sizes, some tall and thin others, stout and medieval. The scenes continue to unfold against the backdrop of a dark stormy sky. It seems to go on for ages.

I am aware that this is Liberation Through the Power of Intent in Action. In the dream I call up the card La Maison Dieu to view and I start to write poetry on the subject of it. It is important that people understand La Maison Dieu.

The scene changes and I am now floating like Jason Borne on the sea. I am in a space with no walls. In front of me is a three legged “wheel”, shaped like a Triskelion or three-armed swastika. It is very definitely a “wheel”, and I am looking at the central part. I cannot see any circular part yet there is a strong feeling that it is somehow there.

The parts of the “spokes” closest to the “axle” are red in colour. The parts further away are made of gold. There is no axle, simply a hole where the axle might be.  The hole is circular.   I am willingly tied to the Triskelion. The wheel starts to rotate in space and I with it. As the rotation speeds up, I start to merge with the Triskelion. I become it and it me. Now I can not be seen only the red and gold Triskelion spinning at a tremendous pace. This starts to move off through Space and Time. I have become the cog in the wheel.

Dream ends.  

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Battenburg – Synthesis – Configuration Dream 13-11-2011

Here is as excerpt from a much longer dream a so-called four pager.

There is a steep incline / cliff. I climb over the fence with my laptop and start to descend the cliff. The cliff starts to give way and I surf with it to the bottom. I am now in a dry riverbed. There is only a small amount of water. I follow the river under the motorway to a place where two rivers join. The is a black forest style house there. I go into the house. There is a fire burning on the hearth.

There is a small wooden chair. It has a solid back with two cut out shapes. I sit on the chair. It is someone else’s chair. I get up and sit on another chair. I put the other person’s chair up on a bed so that I can get a better look at it. As I do so I bang heads with whoever is on the chair. Slowly a cat materializes on the chair, and we start to have a conversation. There are a series of puzzles for me to solve in the house.

Out of the ceiling a construction comprising wooden squares suspended by string materializes forming a tunnel. I am to go up this tunnel. I start but because of the breadth of my shoulders I get temporarily stuck. At this point I can see a seminar where people are looking at a screen and there is an overhead projector projecting transparencies on the wall. People are sat around the table trying to understand the codes in the transparencies. I make my way to the back of the room and ask if the projector is in focus. The guy projecting adjusts the focus in and out. Those watching can’t solve the first riddle. I note that the first clue suddenly resolves into:

” SYNTHESIS”

We move on and a piece of Battenburg cake comprising four squares of yellow and pink appears.

It cuts itself into three equal sections roughly centred at the middle. I know that I am like the cake cut into three equal sections. This is my configuration.

I continue on, cognizant of the theme “needing to solve puzzles.

Dream ends.

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18 Flames – 17 Flames – Mossad Dream 31-1-21

Here is the first of last night’s dream which were had either side of a piece of very squally and stormy weather.

The dream is set in a hospital which is similar in feel to the one locally where I was admitted previously. I am sat up in a chair fully clothed and there is high technology medical apparatus around me. In the room are two young men in army fatigues and with weapons. They each have a western style assault rifle and a handgun in a holster. One of them has a circular close-fitting hat on and he has ginger coloured hair and freckles, the other is darker of complexion.

Suddenly out of the hat small blue flames, several inches in length start to burn in a circle round the man’s head. I count them and there are eighteen in total.  I know in the dream that this man is my nagal’s courier and he is reflecting for me the eighteen blue flames of my courage.

I turn to the other man, and he has blue flames arranged in a circle too. I count these and they are seventeen in number. In the dream I am surprised because he feels like a southerly stalker and should by rights be a woman. It strikes me as odd. So, I think that he must be my courier to the Scholar representing the other part of my predilection.

I take note of the numbers 18 and 17, the jewels courage and discrimination or discernment.

Into the room comes a male doctor and two female nurses. They are all wearing white coats. They are going to take samples from me. I ask if I can have some local anaesthetic, some lidocaine. They say that it is better that I do not. The man does something and then I am moved away to another room.

The nurses do not get a chance to take their samples.

I am now in a large room with a single large table in it. The nurses are with me. I say that they can take their samples now. I take off my shirt and lie on the large table. They take out their instruments and cut several pieces of flesh from my right side. I have raised my arm for them to do this and do not flinch. They put the samples into sample bottles which then then put into the pockets of their white coats. They leave the room. I sit up on the table and put my shirt back on, there is no blood.

The ginger haired man from before comes in. He is now wearing a security earpiece wire. He says that he is from Mossad and here to protect me. He is now also wearing a Kevlar chest shield and has a helmet in one hand and assault rifle in another. He says that there are seventeen of his colleagues, also from Mossad, around the perimeter to protect me and keep me safe. I have been brought here for my own protection and together with the seventeen colleagues he makes eighteen all of whom are to keep me safe and secure.

Dream ends.

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Nagal’s Courier Dream 2-2-22

This is the first very vivid dream that I have had in a long while and on a morning with a whole heap of 2s.

I am at a small fishing port walking along the harbour wall. In the near distance I see a dark-haired man leaning against a parked Ducati motorbike. He is wearing leathers. I know this man to be A, a dreaming nagal’s courier. I approach him and say hi. He is very sceptical and not-trusting.

I explain that I need to make him aware of some things because there has been a lot of misinformation floating around.  I say that when I stopped interacting closely with Théun my dreaming colour changed from indigo-purple to indigo-blue. The shade deepened and became much more vivid. I am certain that it meant that I was a second ray being an Elephant and not a Wolf. I ask him a metaphorical question, “How is your dreaming colour now?”

I explain that there is plenty of “evidence” from dreams and omens that I am a nagal being and not a Man of Action as Théun had suggested.  I had been trying this hypothesis on, as is my want. The dreams both mine and the wife’s suggest that I am doubly severed and therefore a three pronged nagal being. Indeed, I had a traumatic experience entirely consistent with the second severing. My secondary predilection is for the East and thus I am a philosophical nagal and radically different in approach to Théun. A second ray dreaming philosophical nagal is an altogether different beast.

I say that in my opinion there was a whole bunch of stupid shit going on back in the day. I say that I have said what I needed to say.

The dream ends.

This dream follows on from an earlier one in which I was verbalising the rule of the four-pronged nagal for a bunch of students.

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Himalaya Foothills Dream 19-06-23.

Before the dream started, I had a very persistent thought form in which I thought “humanity is no longer Darwinian”. This seed thought pointed to the fact that the process of natural selection has been inhibited by modern life. There is no longer exclusively a survival of the fittest. Lifeforms which would have died out survive and the evolution of the human species is stunted. People in the west do not currently have to fight to live, they can eke and survive.

The dream starts with me looking down at my bare feet they are on a concrete floor painted a very deep shade of red and I am wearing loose weave ethnic trousers, of a magenta shade. I can feel the cool floor under my feet. I am indoors and the refuge from the heat is welcome. I am sitting in a wicker chair on a white cushion. 

I stand up and leave my residence to go to the hotel / hostel which is downhill from me. I am in a small town on the side of deep ravine in the Himalayan foothills. I have been here for quite some time. I am at home. There are people milling about in the street. They are brown skinned with jet black hair and of slim stature. A couple of the children wave at me, they follow me down the street. There is a sense of accustomed play.

I get to the hotel and go up to the communal dining area. There people are making themselves a meal. It is all very ad hoc. I recognise some of them from London 20 odd years ago. Amongst them is Alexandros {nagal’s courier}. He is tall and has suffered badly from middle age spread. I motion to him and we go out into the small private garden. I ask him why he is here. He says that when I left ages ago, I told him that he should be sensible and keep safe. He has come with the others for me. We go back inside and there is an air of expectancy in the dining room. I leave.

I make my way back up the hill and try to cross a drain into a shaded porch area of an emporium serving tea. I struggle and nearly trip. A young Nepalese man (Gurkha?) grabs my arm and says, “you need to be more careful sahib.” I am a little surprise by his tone. He sits me down. It is clear that I am struggling to move and in some considerable physical pain. He says that we need to build up reserves because we are going to have to walk through the mountain pass at 3400 metres. It is a long way but we think that you can make it. The pass is to the North of the town in the dream. He says that he and his brother will be there with me all the way and that it is their job to guide and protect me. They have been assigned.

I step out onto what passes for the town square chiselled into the mountain side. I can smell the mountain air, rich and pungent from the plants on the mountainside. I can see the Himalaya massif resplendent in the morning light. It looks magnificent and formidable. Around the square a couple of light brown skinny dogs are playing in the shade of a tree.

To the side of the square is a small open stone wall. There are stones on top of short pillars. I go to sit on the wall and the Nepalese man comes and sits next to me. Down in the valley on a road winding up to the town there are several people and loaded pack donkeys. They are making their way; they are European and are assisted by locals. I recognise some of the Europeans. I ask the guide, “why are they coming here?” He says that “of course they have come to see you sahib. There will be others too.”

Dream ends.  

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Rule of the Four Pronged nagal – Numerology Dream 17-08-23

Just because there was not enough weirdness already here is this morning’s dream.

The dream opens with a quintessential English village fete set in a green and sloping park. The park has trees around the circumference and is lushly grassed. There are stalls selling produce, a Tombola stand, a Pimm’s tent, bric-a-brac and an inflatable play area for the children. There is a small crowd of English people at the event. The atmosphere is summer and nice. Everyone is relaxed and there is a nice hubbub.

At the corner of one stand, I notice a talk young man with dark hair who resembles A whom I know to be a nagal’s courier. I go over to him to say hello. I say that I need to tell him about the rule of the four pronged nagal. He already knows that he is a nagal’s courier. He says that only nagals should narrate the rule. He doubts that I am nagal. His jewel is 20, honour.

I walk to the side of the fete near the trees. I hold his attention with my eyes. I run down the slope and take off flying down the slope and then back up to close to hum. He says, “that was stupid, everyone could see you!” I motion to the crowd they are going about their business as usual. I say that the display was only for him and his eyes. He says, “OK. I’ll buy it you are nagal.”

We head off into a European piazza, Italianate in character. There is much buzz. We head off into a taverna which is busy. There sat on a table is a middle aged balding ginger man. He is entertaining his table with stories. He does not look entirely well. I say to the nagal’s courier that he is a Man of Action. He replies that I should go and tell him. I say that it must be action. I take the courier down into the basement of the taverna and find the electricity distribution box. There are many fuses and interrupters. I flip the switches. The tavern and the basement are plunged into darkness. There is unease upstairs. I hear the Man of Action strike his Zippo lighter. He says, “don’t worry it was probably a fuse. I will go and investigate.” He comes down in the basement and sees us. He turns the electricity back on. We all leave the taverna together. His jewel is 6, choosing between the old and the new.

Now it is nighttime and we go into a basement nightclub. It is dark and smoky. It has seen better days and is seedy. On the stage is a cabaret. We sit at a table and order some drinks. On the table next to us an older man is being entertained by a hostess who is pouring him drinks and flattering him. She is a tiny black woman with an amazing architectural hairdo. She is wearing a skimpy red dress which reveals her athletic shoulders. From the way she moves to the bar she is lithe and a dancer. She is sat very close to me. I suggest to her without words that she must come with us. She looks over. We get up and leave the club, she follows. She says that she must get some things. So, we follow her into a catacomb where she lives. We go into a gothic chamber and she fills a holdall with clothes. I say to her that she is “bat-shit crazy” because there are bats flying about. She yes, literally. Her jewel is 5 need for freedom and change. She is as Westerly stalker.   

We are now above ground in daylight. We go to a suburb near the sea, where there are three storied wooden houses of a classical Boston marine style. The place is ultra-tidy and serene. I select one house and go up the stairs. I pull the bell rope and a man in navy-blue shorts and a white polo answers the door. His short hair is immaculately cut and the creases in his polo are razor sharp. One the back of his polo is the number 2. He says, “hi we have been expecting you. Do come in.” He ushers us into a bright well lit kitchen with a blue and white nautical theme.

“I’ll just call my brother, my twin, we always do everything as a pair!”

His brother comes down and joins us in the kitchen. They are identically dressed. They stand with their backs to a white porcelain sink and ask us in unison, what would we like for breakfast. Their jewel is 2. They are couriers to the female East. I note in the dream that a pair of twos is a double whammy omen. Two is the need for humility and understanding or a hint of destiny. Given the context I favour the latter.

The flow of the dream goes South-North-West-East which I understand to be the flow of power, which is in the act of manifesting, that is one the verge of coming into manifestation. It is on the cusp of the dream.

Dream ends.  

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Berne – nagal’s Insignia Dream – 27-04-24

I slept until 5:22 AM. This dream came upon going back to sleep.

I find myself in a seminar room sat in a partial circle of chairs without tables. Someone is giving a spectroscopy seminar on the screen. It is about some work being done at a German university. When the seminar is over, I go over to Sam and comment that it was a very nice piece of work to which he concurs. I know I am in Berne, Switzerland.

There is a short pause and the seminar reconvenes. I am wearing a blue-grey jacket much like the one I used to have. To this I pin my nagal’s insignia. I take it out of my pocket and pin it to my right lapel.

It is getting late. I have nowhere to stay. But I am pretty sure than I can get a hotel room on my credit card. I leave the seminar room and walk off into the Berne night.

I wake up noting that it is very unusual to have a dream with the insignia in. And wonder if it means that I need to be more proximal to one of the planetary centres, namely Geneva. I note that I have also spent time in London, Tokyo and fleetingly New York. I decide to try to return to the dream. Geneva is the francophone centre.

I am now in some shared house with a “Rayburn” style of heater. The pipes are all transparent made of glass. We are changing the thermostat setting and this causes the water levels in the pipes to change. I comment that it is a good idea to have these pipes transparent because one can see what is going on.

I then move into an office building. I meet the secretary which Sam had. I think about asking her if she likes dreams. I change my mind and say to her that I have something to tell her and Sam in private, namely the dream.

I move into an office full of Ph.D. students. I ask them where the post doc office is. They point me. I go in and it is full of people a few of whom are known to me. I ask where I am supposed to sit. Alan F sheepishly points me to a chair/desk in the corner. I sit down.

I say that because of the number of post docs Sam must be doing well.

One of the women, a senior post doc, asks in an American accent, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

To which I reply that I am slightly surprised too.

She says that everyone gossiped and ridiculed me after I left last time. I reply that I know because Wolfgang told me and that he was not happy with the behaviours of people towards me because I had been nice to him.

Sat around the table each of us have a grey carton.

“Today we are having oysters, huitres”, says one of the post docs.

“Not for me thanks I don’t like them”, I reply.

“Why?”

“They feel like catarrh from a bad head cold, a viral infection.”

“Can we get you anything else?”

“Just a glass of water please.”

“Won’t you feel left out?”

“No. Since the last time I was here I have done extensive meditation and am quite Zen abut most things.”

In front of me is a lab book and a fountain pen.

The pen is their “gift” to me.

I go to take the lid off the pen and try to use it. It is booby trapped and I get ink all over my hand and my mouth. I dip a tissue in the water and wash my hands with it.

“It looks like I will need to use a pencil instead of a fountain pen to write.”

 There is a titter in the office.

I turn to use a computer and reflected on the screen I can see them reloading the pen.

I tell them that I am seeing them do this and that I am not a fool. I walk over to the main culprit. I place my left thumb firmly into the nerve point between his right thumb and forefinger and squeeze his hand. He drops the pen and grimaces in pain.

I explain that I am now 100kg because I have been working a garden.

They joke that British gardens are small.

I say that I have been living in France with a garden of more than an acre.

I say, « je peux parler Français ».

I do this is a very poor accent.

I go back to my accommodation. I note that I still have not written my dream and that this mocking “welcome” is a generic thing.

The next morning, I put on my grey camouflage trousers and vest. I attach the insignia to a piece of smooth string and pop it around my neck. It rests just under the top on the singlet in my chest hair.

I go into town towards the office. The woman and two other postdocs are at a cross roads.

We exchange, “morning”.

They are about to mock me for dressing as a soldier. I lift the insignia out of my vest to show them, knowing that in so doing I am making a powerful occult statement which they do not understand.

Dream ends.

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