Tag: Dreamer

Climate Change, Dreams

Flood Tempest Dream 21-03-23

This dream coincides with the vernal equinox, it comes after the IPCC climate change report is made public and after I tried to download same.

The dream starts with us inside a building made of concrete. From the room we are in I can hear a gale blowing outside and rain lashing the building. It is night. The tempest comes in waves, there is loud followed by quiet and lull. The tempest is severe and as dawn approaches its force starts to wane a little.

Just after dawn, I leave the room and go out onto a terrasse. I look down at the river below it is a torrent and in flood. It runs past the outbuildings of the house which we are in. This is not our house. The river is brown and raging. From time to time I can see a tree being swept along in it. I call to the wife to come see. She joins me on the terrasse.  

As we watch the river in flood its level continues to increase. It sweeps away a shed like out building and a veranda which is a part of the house we are in. It leaves a “cliff” of several metres height where the foundations once were. The river is truly raging. We know that where we are standing is safe. We look across to the other side of the river and the trees there are largely flattened and the field in which there was once crops is very badly wind damaged and flattened. We see debris of other buildings in the river. We go inside to look for breakfast. The ‘phone lines are dead and the electricity supply is intermittent.

After breakfast we head uphill along the lanes to explore. The lanes have evidence of gravel having been washed down. We round the corner and look at where the forest once was. 90% of the trees have been flattened by the wind. There is a scene of devastation. There has been a fire there possibly caused by lightning strike. We move on and into the village. People are cleaning up after the flood. The river still rages at the bottom of the hill.  

We are joined by L and the three of us move off together back towards our house. There are now three dreamers. We show L the devastation of the river and the remains of the buildings, pointing out where the river has washed the foundations away. She finds it difficult to believe. Together we sense that this is a beginning and not and end. We go inside.

Alexandros, a dreaming nagal’s courier, arrives at the door. He and I go down to the port to look at the damage there. The road is strewn with debris but we can navigate it. When we get to the port, into which the river flows, there is disarray. Many of the boats have been wrecked. Others have been washed out to sea. The blue fishing nets and buoys are scattered. The harbour wall is intact. On the port quay the fishermen are assessing the damage. They are witing for the tide to go fully out and the river to subside before they venture out. The wind has died down and there is a sense of aftermath. There is a sense that this dream is a taste of things to come.

Dream ends.

Dreams

Coal Mining Dream 18-03-23

Something has changed with my dreaming since the beginning of the year. This may be because I am on the wagon, but I doubt it. I have picked up a subtle shift these last few months, something has come to a head and passed. I do not know what.

This dream has the historical context of a matrilinear involvement in mining since the mid-1800s. The men of my family worked, first in the copper mines of Beddgelert at Sygun, then the slate mines at Blaenau Ffestiniog and then coal in the Rhondda. I joke that I am physically suited to shifting large weights in enclosed surroundings, playing front row rugby or Judo. My arse is close to the floor. You could say that mining is in my DNA.

—-

In the dream I am talking with a man above ground in a kind of depot. He is wearing a flat cap and is some kind of foreman. He is dirty and covered in coal dust. I am clean and dressed in modern clothes. I am asking him for a job. He doubts that I have the stamina or the inclination to work at the coal face deep underground. He thinks that the men will not accept me and that I may have to have a fist fight or two to establish my place. I explain to him that I come from a line of miners so there is possibly some potential there.

He takes me over to a schematic on a wall in a portacabin. In the schematic the various seams of the mine are portrayed. He says that the seams on levels 1-3 have all been worked out. The men are working levels 4 and 5. He says that 5 is a rich seam but that it twists and turns. Five is very deep and there are occasional problems with gas.

To get me started he takes me over to the rail trucks coming out of the pit. There are some with pure coal and others in which coal is still mixed with bedrock. He suggests that I work separating the coal from the bedrock. I start and the pieces of rock are heavy. I pick them up with my gloved hands and break the coal from the rocks. I chuck the coal on one pile and the rock on another. The foreman is pleased with my work and suggests that I come back the next day.

When I return, he kits me out with a Davy lamp and a pickaxe. I join the other men in the lift going down. We stop at level 4 and most of the men get out. The rest of us continue down the shaft to level 5. There is a handful of us and the foreman. We are by way of an exploratory party. I start to work on a part of the seam which turns out to be wide and very rich. I am easily separating large chunks of best quality anthracite. One of the other workers wants to take over my position. The foreman says that we should fight for it. The man runs at me and knocks me to the ground. We brawl. I get him into a choke hold and he passes out.

I have earned the right to work at this section of face and the respect of the other miners. I work my guts out and load the small rail wagon near me.

At the end of the shift we go up the shaft in the lift and the foreman says that I have done well but will be extremely full of aches tomorrow. He says that usually it is the third day which is the killer. The first day is easy, the second day very painful. The third day is very hard and difficult. By the time the full shift comes on the third day, the body is close to crisis, it struggles with all the aches and pains to complete the third shift. Day four is less difficult. Usually after the weekend the second week is no problem. If I can make it to the second week, then I will be fine to work there.

Dream ends.

When I am coming to, I wonder if this is some kind of a racial memory which I am tapping into in the dream.   

Cause & Effect, Dreams, Karma

Unexploded Karmic Bombs Dream 28-02-23.

Here is the most vivid segment of last night’s dream.

——

I know that the dream is set in England, it is in London, the home counties and Cambridgeshire. In the dream the lighting of the gardens is pink-yellow and of the in between. I cannot be sure if it is dawn or dusk, nor if the light has been altered by Saharan sand in the air.

In the dream I am indoors looking out onto successive back gardens which vary in size and composition. I am moving between gardens and viewpoints.  In London, I see in a number of different gardens, small bombs fall from the sky, one or two per garden. They land tail fin up and I know that these bombs are karmic bombs, which will detonate one day {soon}. The karma will then be irrevocably released.

The same pattern is repeated for several gardens which I know to be in the home counties close to London. The bombs are of varying sizes, some big and others quite small. The scene moves on to a bigger garden which I know to be in Cambridgeshire. Here again bombs fall from the sky and implant in the earth. They are of varying size and one of them, which is ticking, is quite large.

I know in the dream that people do not believe in karmic bombs and as a consequence they will not take any action to address karma which they think may not manifest. People think that they have gotten away with it. I know in the dream that this attitude is a very grave mistake. There are more karmic bombs to fall from the sky.

Dream ends…

Dreams

Stolen / Mistaken Identity Dream 31-1-23.

This dream was in part hyper-realistic and took place between 4:40 and 7:20 AM this morning.

The dream starts with me trying to pay for something in a shop. I open my wallet and look through my cards there. I have my carte vitale, carte de séjour and French driver’s licence. There are no bank or credit cards. There are a few business cards and an old one for Blockbuster video. I am very surprised by this. I look in a different part of my wallet and find a bank card. The salesperson tries it in the machine and it is refused. I realise that it is an out of date card and that all my others have somehow gone missing. Someone has stolen them along with my identity. I must find a branch of HSBC so as to put a block on the cards.

I exit the shop and find myself on the South bank of the Thames near Waterloo station and the Festival Hall. I do not understand why I am there in crowded London.  I bump into C and explain to her what has happened. We must figure out who has stolen my cards and therefore my identity. In a maternal fashion she kisses me on the forehead and we go off into an arcade to search for a branch of HSBC.  We stop in a small shop and she buys me a small, sealed carafe of white wine which she says I will need for later. We go into a café which is serving wholefood and drinks. Waiting table is DMcG. I haven’t seen her in ages and she is looking young and stress free. Her ginger hair is long as it was forty years ago. She is no longer wearing a business suit and is in hippie attire with a flowing skirt. She is braless under her shirt and very hippie, patchouli of smell. On seeing me she comes over and gives me a great big hug. She is very pleased to see me and we chat briefly about what has happened. She says that she now works at this shop five days a week on the lunchtime service and that she would be very glad to see me again.

There is no HSBC bank to be found. C checks if I have my mobile ‘phone. I do. I explain that there is no danger of anyone having cloned my banking app. because I do not use one. She checks that I have her new number in the ‘phone. I do. She thinks that it is very likely that whoever stole my cards and identity has mixed me up with someone else. Because why would someone behave as if they were me and copy my history? It is not all that interesting especially now. She says that she has a meeting and will meet me back at #111 later. She rushes off before I have the chance to explain I no longer live there. She thinks that it was while I was at #111 that someone stole my identity and reminds me of the two/three burglaries in the flats below.

I now find myself in Battersea. It is a very rough part and there are quasi-derelict houses and people hanging out in doorways. I know that they are selling drugs and that this is a dangerous place. I make my way through the wasteland and onto a high street. I am still looking for an HSBC. I know that with my identity card, carte de séjour, I stand a better chance face to face in fixing the problem. Otherwise, I need good internet access and my pass-codes. I think I remember them but would like to check them with the numbers I have written on a piece of paper in the top right hand drawer of my desk.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice that three men are now following me. One is in charge with a Panama hat and the other two are his goons, lackeys. They are younger, Hispanic and are wearing leather jackets. I decide to see if they are following me so I duck down an alleyway and into an arcade. Sure enough they follow me. I walk into a clothing store and out the back door into an alley that leads to a canal. They follow me and sensing that I am trying to evade them they give chase. One of them tries to grab my wrist and I perform an Aikido move, kote-gaesh, which sends him flying. I run along the canal. There is a canal boat approaching a tunnel. I jump from the bank onto the canal boat and just mange to hold on. My feet drop into the water. I pull myself up onto the boat and it disappears into a tunnel. I can see my pursuers are very frustrated.

The boat leaves the tunnel and I get off on to the bank. I exit the canal tow track and know that I am in South London a little bit West of Clapham. I know that if I walk South and then head East. I will reach Clapham and then Brixton. I will be able to go to #111 and see if I can find my old passcodes which are in the drawer of my desk.

I arrive at an estate management office, which manages all the now rental property in my old street. There is a tall young man with light ginger hair sat behind a desk. I enter the office and explain my predicament to him. He asks who I am, what is my name. I tell him. He says that he has had three South American men recently asking about me. He says that they were asking for Alan from “Rezilia” {Brasília?} in Brazil. He thinks that they thought that I was this man. I explain that I have never been to Brazil and that it must be a case of mistaken identity.

I explain that there is an outside chance that my passcodes are still in the drawer of my desk and would it be possible for me to have a look. He says that he will have to ask the tenants.

It becomes clear in the dream that someone has assumed aspects of my behaviour and cloned parts of my personality way back when I used to live at #111 {around 2003-2006}. They have copied me as I was then. Someone has been pretending to be me for quite a while.

The young man takes me to look at #111. Someone has done a truly excellent refurbishment job and it has an ornate wooden façade with moving giant carvings. He says that we cannot go in until the tenants return.

We go back to his office and he suggests that we use the good internet access there to log onto HSBC in order to block the cards. I say that they will need a pin to use them. He says that there are some places that still use the old fashioned method. I get out my modern tablet and ask him as a “youth” to start to log on. First, he checks my contacts list which is intact and holds C’s number for later. He runs his eyes down the list and there are none with a Brazil dialling code.

I ask him again about the people who came asking after me. The description fits those who were chasing me. I know that some kind of partial identity theft happened whilst I was at #111 and that someone has copied me, “stolen” a part of my life even.

The alarm goes off and the dream ends.

#111 is the number and the name by which I refer to my old flat in Upper Tulse Hill, Brixton.

Dreams, Quotations, Tarot

Megatron – Magic Dream 19-12-22

It was a dark and stormy night I had woken at 4:30 and listened to the storm. At one point I heard a persistent high pitched whine in my left ear only. It lasted more than ten seconds. I must have drifted off to sleep around 7 AM and according to the wife I was kicking about.

The dream is set in Australia. I arrive at a dockland area. There are two vast cranes which are stacked with cars like car transporters. They are lifting these up into the sky. I, slightly nervously, walk under them and into a space below a spacious bridge. There is a gathering of people there sat on the floor. There are mostly young and I understand it to be a science outreach event called the Megatron. Z and Y are there. I sit down outside the gathering proper and listen in.

Z, seated on the floor, is boasting about all the other events they have done including one in the prestigious Sydney docks, they managed to close off some famous street. He is telling the participants that they should count themselves lucky to be here and that all the others are zeros. I get up and walk over to him and clip him on the head. He drops a white glass plate which he is holding and it breaks when it hits the ground. I say that he is setting a very bad example telling the youngsters that other people are zeros. He gets up nervously and I make as if to clip him again. He avoids and I chase him slowly around the listening circle. Every time I feign to clip him, he cowers and avoids. I turn my back on him and walk to the bridge wall. There I pick up my cigarettes, my mobile ‘phone and my fishing rod. I know that he does not understand the true meaning of zero. I walk off and they are all surprised that I am leaving the event.

I walk towards a town centre. As I do this, I smoke a cigarette. I put the packet and my ‘phone in my back right hand pocket. The sensation of smoking in the dream is very realistic. After I finish smoking, I transfer my green fishing rod to my right hand.

As I am walking along the street, I notice a little boutique selling artefacts, these are pieces of tree branch decorated with mother of pearl and other seashells. Some of them function as windmills. They are very shiny and sparkly. A woman who runs the shop notices me looking at the shells and artefacts. I comment that they are highly unusual are very attractive. She says that there are more upstairs and would I like to come in. I put my fishing rod to lean against a wall. I follow her up a very tight spiral staircase carved out of an orange-brown wood. We arrive at a landing and there is a two door thigh high swing gate fashioned out of the same wood. She lifts up the latch and ushers me in. She closes the door behind me.

We go deeper into the building.  A young woman with dark hair arrives. This is my daughter Helen says the older woman. I say hello and she replies.

“Helen is trying to go to the Megatron and has applied. They have asked her to do a montage as an application. Would you look at it for us?”

“Sure”

Helen hands me her montage which is between two cardboard covers of an intense dark brown colour. There are many leaves of paper. Her pictures and calligraphy are exquisite. Some of it written in a metallic gold ink, which is gold in colour but not of gold.

I am very impressed with what she has put together. I ask to see the letter outlining the task.

This letter is handwritten on dark purple paper. And sure enough the instructions are there. They look to have been written in two different hands. One by a woman and the last paragraph by a man.

I show this to the woman who at first disagrees and then agrees. The writing again is in a sloping italic “metallic” ink.

As this point a large semi-bald man comes through the wooden gate. He is wearing a brown camel hair coat and is larger than life in his presence. He comes over to me and shakes my hand. He is the father of Helen.

My eye is drawn to a farmyard scene made out of porcelain statues. There are deer, two piglets, a dog and a cow. As soon as he finished shaking my hand the scene animates and comes to life. I know it is magic. Two deer come over to greet the man and I offer them the back of my hand to smell, which they do. The piglets start squealing and running all over the place. They run over my feet. Everybody now has sparkly eyes.

The man asks If Helen’s application is good. I say to her that it is very good but not to tell them about her magic animals. 

The man asks If I will be at the Megatron. I say no and that now I am staying at Alice {Springs}.

He asks if I am going back there tonight.

“Yes.”

“Are you flying?”

“I will get there.”

I wish Helen luck and then go to leave.

The man says to be careful with the gate otherwise the piglets will escape.

I go out through the gate, closing it behind me. I go downstairs, pick up my fishing rod and walk out into the normal city street.

I am aware that this dream pertains to a tarot card.

Dream ends

Tarot Zero

From Wikipedia:

“Megatron is a fictional character and the main antagonist of the Transformers media franchise produced by American toy company Hasbro and Japanese toy company Takara Tomy. Megatron is the cruel and tyrannical leader of the Decepticons, a faction of sentient, war-mongering robotic lifeforms that seeks to conquer their home planet of Cybertron and the rest of the known universe. He serves as the archenemy of Optimus Prime, the leader of the rival Autobot faction. As with all Cybertronians, Megatron has the ability to transform between his robot form and various vehicles or weapons. His alternate modes have ranged from a Walther P38 handgun, a particle-beam weapon, a telescopic laser cannon, and a Cybertronian jet, depending on which continuity he is depicted in.

Megatron’s most consistent origin portrays him as having risen up from being an oppressed worker to a gladiatorial champion who took the legendary name of one of the original Thirteen Primes—Megatronus—as his own. He shortened his name when he became a political revolutionary who attempted to reform Cybertron’s corrupt governing body and called for an end to its decrepit caste system. As the mentor of the young Orion Pax, Megatron preached that freedom of self-determination was the right of all sentient beings. When Megatron grew corrupted by his power, Orion would utilize his teachings against him as Optimus Prime. In most incarnations, Megatron would eventually meet his demise at Optimus’ hands, only to later be resurrected as Galvatron.”

 Foxtrotting Hotel  !!

—

Walther P38!!!

Dreams, Karma, Musings, personal, Questions

Respecting Others

I think if fair to speculate that I have had amongst the most comprehensive and varied sets of passive nocturnal dreams in our times.  In the Toltec Teachings people are either stalkers or dreamers by predilection. This roughly maps onto extroversion introversion. I have a predilection for dreaming. You might say that I am a dreamer but I am not the only one. I have also dreamed up many things including personal and team development courses, decision courses and a big business plan.

I did for ~ eight years do active dreaming everyday sometimes several times. I got so that I could do this on the crowded Victoria line.

My passive dreaming suggests that I am a fully severed philosophical three pronged nagal being of the elephant, second ray, dreaming class. I also used to be a “kosher” scientist with over 60 published papers in the physical sciences literature. I’ll speculate that these along with the INFJ MBTI personality makes be quite rare. My dreams suggest that I am also a Toltec or man of knowledge, possibly amongst the last.

A while back a nurse was a little short with me, so I took her a write up about Imperial College in French for her to read. She listens to me a little more now.

It is possible that people have scoffed about me, gossiped about me and made fun of me.

We are effectively Brexit refugees. All the boring hot air about Brexit was a key factor in deciding to leave England. And guess what the palaver concerning Brexit still goes on.

Over the years many people have not shown me much if any respect. A couple came close to getting a Judo choke hold, much closer than they could ever have imagined. It is my favourite piece of groundwork. My face does not reveal if I do not want it to.

The chest nurse once gave me a twenty minute lecture including plastic lung pieces about smoking. The dead pan face in front of her did not stop her. I am not an idiot. I have looked at data. I did not ooh and aah in the right places.

Many people have told me what I am and been adamant as to the extent of their knowledge and wisdom. People it seems cannot resist teaching me. I must be in such dire need of education.

Ridicule is nothing to be scared of
Don’t you ever, don’t you ever
Stop being dandy

Adam and the Ants

I am not keen on arguing. If people want to assert their truths, I respect their right to hold erroneous views. It is not my job to correct them unless I am being paid.

I have joked on and off in the blog about self-diagnosed omniscience and it is my opinion that this is near pandemic. People soapbox without checking the level of their ignorance or the facts. Even “intelligent” people do this and in them it is more of a shame, they might know better.

My dreams suggest that I have had more than one Egyptian life and hint at me having been coming in an out of incarnation over a period of ~5000 years {Imhotep reference}.

——————

Have you treated me with respect?

Have you dissed me?

What are the karmic implications?

Dreams

Boris Johnson and Secretary of State Education Dream 10-11-22

Here is one of this morning’s dreams based in London. The second dream is based in rural Brittany where the wife and I meet a Welsh couple who have lived here a long time. They show us around their farm and sea food farm. They have guests and from time to time speak in Welsh. That is consistent with current circumstance. The London dream is bizarre.

I am on the top of a large educational building in West / Southwest London. It is my old university. I am there with Boris Johnson alone. {As an aside he is in Chinese astrology a wood dragon just like me}. We are playfighting and the atmosphere is jocular. He is pretending to hit me and I block him every time. I say to him that because he has been to private school, he must understand wedgies. I challenge him to a wedgie fight.

We manoeuvre and look for the best wedgie hold. He is close to a guard rail at the side of the building. I get a good grip and lift him over the guard rail which is about chest height. He starts to get a little scared. He holds my arms and with one pull he is back safe my side of the guard rail.

He dusts himself down and the jocular spirit returns.

I leave Boris on the roof and make my way down through the building into some laboratory space. There are young people doing science and one of them asks me my opinion on something. I ask him what the half life is and I say wait at least four half-lives so that the concentration is low.

I am leaving and working my way down the building. I have to explain to many people that I am no longer there. I have not been there for a long time and that I do not have a job. They find this hard to believe.

In a foyer area a professor known to me says that he wants me to meet the secretary of state for education. He has been talking with her about me. She comes over and the professor introduces me. She asks me what I want. I say nothing I am not in the job anymore. She turns to the professor and says that she thinks that I do not trust him. I explain that I am being straight and do not even live in the country anymore.

Dream ends.

When I get up, I look up who is secretary of state for education and the woman in my dream looks just like the current incumbent…weird. I had no prior idea who was in that role.

Dreams

Jesus Dream 19-5-2008

I am in a room which is connected to another room. They are both kind of white and ephemeral. There is a sense of sanctity. I open the door into the second room. I must be quiet. At the far end of the room there is a shimmering that starts to materialise into a form. That form is Jesus. The form is masculine and has some of the feeling of NMJ about it. It is Jesus and I can see him.

He comes towards me and steps into my room. He is now very frail almost like a small white haired boy. He is in a sense very familiar to me. He says that he too is looking for his “Father”.

Lots of full grown men turn up in “top hat and tails” formal dress. They are very noisy. There is a table in the room. I sit down and Jesus sits on my lap. The others are helping themselves to canapés.

The boy and I are very simply dressed wearing pyjamas. He says that he wants to suck my thumb. I mention that it isn’t clean. He puts it in his mouth and sucks it in any case.

Dream ends…

The overall feel of this dream is all about me nurturing and caring for. It felt very special and warm inside. It is perhaps about nurturing an inner aspect of me.

Dreams

Djembe Attack Dream and Brazilian Tree Dream 23-10-22

I’ll put these two together even though I woke up between them. They seem geographically linked.

I am on a Caribbean Island which has a South American feel. I get off a train on an overground railway and descend a staircase into a partially lit underpass. There is a news stand there selling newspapers and cigarettes. Next to the stand are two young men with djembe drums. They are both Afro-Caribbean. One of them has a tatty looking hat. A young boy comes up to me and asks if I like Djembe. I say, “yes I do”. On hearing my reply, the young men strike up a call and answer Djembe beat. This goes on for a while.

Soon more performers join in and quite quickly there are a multitude of performers along with some very energetic dancers. There is a carnival feel and it is very colourful. I lie down on the ground to watch. A young, well fed, South American black woman sits herself astride me and starts to grind. She looks over her shoulder and notices that her boyfriend, who is a gangster, has noted. Even though it is not my fault he will be angry. She says that I had better leave.

I get up and start to walk away. Around the boyfriend a gang of men gather. They have sticks which reach from their hands down to the ground.  Some have machetes. The atmosphere is very threatening. I continue walking away. They ominously start to follow me. I am feeling threatened, but I know that this is a dream. All I have to do is wake up and I will be back here in Brittany.

I wake up feeling a heightened awareness that one gets from threat. It is 3:13 AM I go downstairs and have two yoghurts. I go back to bed and am awake for an hour or so.

I am in Brazil somewhere inland and far from the coast. It is a kind of mission station with bungalow buildings each with a veranda equipped with a fly screen. Just outside the village in a cleared area there is a small crowd of people. I go over and they are cutting up and moving the big tree which has fallen during the night. The tree is enormous, and the understanding is that it has stood there for hundreds of years. It has had a special role in the lives of the people.

When the tree has been cut up and stacked. They start to work on a new bed, turning the earth over with care. Along with others I start to bring whitewashed stones. These stones are very white and the size of a rugby ball. There are others much smaller, the size of a hand. They are flat. We place the big white stones around the edge of the flower bed. In the middle of the bed the priest and an elder are planting a sapling which is about six feet tall and securing it to a wooden post. There is a sense that this is an energised spot. This tree will, in time, replace the big tree. The villagers and I place the smaller flat stones onto the bed. Interspersed with the white flat stones are some black ones to make a fairly intricate pattern. When the work is done, we all stand back in a loose circle and admire the handiwork. There is a sense of good will and satisfaction.

I awake and find myself once again in our bed in Brittany.