Time-Travelling Late-Georgian/Regency Dandy (Redux 2019).


I was walking under a very black night sky.  Whilst leisurely walking along a winding road, I was with some friends.  The road was not very wide but on either side were some grassy knolls that rolled up and down.

These knolls were just over seven feet high; this left us walking in a bit of a depression.  The stars here were unusually bright; there even seemed to be more of them of greater magnitude than is normally the case.

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They had caught my attention when something had streaked across the sky.  Stopping in my tracks, I looked up and saw others.  All of them were red flashes which meteorically streaked, and none-too-randomly, across the sky.

Their speeds were far too rapid for them to have been shooting stars.  When drawing it to my friends’ attention, I asked if they did not think it peculiar. These persons, incidentally, were more astral acquaintances rather than persons whom I have known during the course of this lifetime.

They all answered that they had not seen anything.  Still, I was quite aware that there was something off.  So looking back and up, to our rear, I quite strongly felt that we were not alone.

There was a distinct impression that, from above in the sky, we were being observed.  As we walked on, from time to time, I kept looking up.  In search of any of the stars which I have so often studied in the waking state’s night sky, I surveilled the sky.

Straight away, as not a single constellation that I took in was remotely familiar, I was left feeling even more vulnerable.  Right away, I knew that what I had seen fiercely streaking across the sky had been a product of some alien civilisation’s technology.

This left me more convinced that these flashes had been real and, in essence, not asteroids.  Soon, we turned a bend in the road and happened on a guy who was lying in the middle thereof.

He was not dead just unconscious.  We agreed to gather him up and at least take him to the side of the road where he would be out of harm’s way.  I suggested that we position his body such that his head was raised higher than his feet.  I thought that he should be placed on the side of the knoll.

Though it was fairly dark out, I assumed that he was a Caucasian male.  He wore brown slacks and was middle-aged.  His face was down on the road so it was hard to tell much about his identity.

I couldn’t quite figure out whether he was simply drunk and passed out or if he had fallen ill with a seizure.  Perhaps, he had been injured in a confrontational row.

Just as we began moving his body, these red streaks began coming down the street making towards us.  They travelled at hyper-speeds and created a sonic boom moments after they shot past.

This definitely was not in Kansas.

*This is a prompt I always give myself when lucidly dreaming and have to take stock that I am not on dream Earth.  Too, it usually signifies being in contact with extra-humans (ETs) and their civilisation.  END.

In a bid at self-preservation, we began dropping the man back to the road.  I decided to dart off, to the right, when I noticed these tiny spacecrafts over on the knoll.  They were green and blue with lights emitting from an open portal of the spacecraft.

Cutting through the break in the knolls, I shot past one and bolted across the open plain to a white bungalow in the distance.  The craft was atop the knoll, on the right, as I ran off the road taking cover.

I had been the more matured member of the group and had been directing them on what to do yet had abruptly taken flight.  I fled because, right away, I knew that they themselves were extra-human aka aliens.

I did not know whether they were posing as good guys, in a bid to capture me, so got clear of them.  When they had begun lifting the guy from the road, I sensed an energetic flow from his face.

I think that, were I to have seen the fallen man’s face, he would not have proven human in the least.  Thus the extra-human vehicles (EHVs) aka alien crafts’ appearance could well have been a good thing.

In that sense, they may well have prevented me from seeing the face of some bad EH (extra-human) in the guise of a human’s body.  Who knows, this fallen stranger may well have been the ruse for affecting my capture?

I was not prepared to find out.  I had never bounded across an open field so fast in ages.  As I did, the sky suddenly became intensely bright.  The lights from an incoming fleet of EHVs (UFOs) flooded the plain.

They fell down from the sky, at light speed, as red balls of light.  Instantaneously, they would slow down but not fully brake.  At that point, they would then become visible.

It was as though they had set the fabric of space afire, creating the red light about them, for travelling as fast as they did.  When they broke to regular subsonic speeds, they appeared as silvery crafts.

They were silver disks that had spokes that rotated arachnidan-like as they landed on the ground.  The spokes assisted their locomotion and left the disks looking like chrome-plated spiders in motion.

The spokes which covered the disk’s entirety allowed them to roll in whatever direction they chose.  Next, the EHV disks transformed themselves becoming silver and black tanks.

They each had a single, black sonar nozzle in the front.  They directed the sonar guns at all the dwellings about and overwhelmed the inhabitants therein with intense sonic booms.

The effect of this would momentarily leave the persons, so affected, paralysed.  The buildings here all looked like they were Deco from 1930s, in Miami’s South Beach.  The look was similar to South Beach with all those vibrantly painted hotels that line the boulevards.

Here, however, the houses were all white.  The area though had a definite tropical look to it.  To the rear of them was a tropical wooded area that led up to a mountain range.

Unique, the spacecrafts were very tiny.  It was hard to conceive of what kinds of creatures could fit into such puny spaceships.  They did telepathically announce that all humans would be paralysed.

*Then again, these EHs and their puny EHVs could have been deceptive.  Perhaps the interiors of these tiny arachnidan-like EHVs were 20 to 50 times more spacious than their tiny outer shells betrayed.  END.

There was nothing to fear; they were not being adversarial; therefore, they admonished that one needn’t panic.  This was not the kind of thing that one wanted to hear.

The mere fact that they could drop into one’s mind, at will, and so calmly speak was more than just cause to panic.  They said that we would be protected and provided for; we would not be harmed.

Turns out that the black sonar antennae were used to project their thoughts, at us, on the outside of the craft.  They had had it turned up to such a pitch that it would become only applicable to humans.

Part of the sonar’s job though was to put one in the state that facilitated their telepathic connection.  Thereafter, of course, it would simply stun us into paralytic submission.

“Get out of my mind!” I forcefully declared as is my disputatious wont.

With that, I decided that I was not going to be readily subjected to their will.  I was not going to let curiosity get the better of me and gullibly meet the EHs.

If it sounds too good to be true, of course, chances are that it is.  Willingly submitting my will was never my modus operandi.  With that I began willing my body, with a fierce unleashing of energy, to flee.

Since ambulatory escape was not fast enough, I threw my body forward and began flying away within a couple of feet of the ground.  Not wanting to attract attention to myself, I veered off to the side and made for the stand of trees close by.

They led up the plain to the start of the houses.  Several coconut trees were clustered in a stand all around the house.  For safety’s sake, I flew past the first house thinking that it would be the first to be searched or captured – what have you.

It was a wonderful sprawling estate; there were even more grounds in the back.  Even though it was quite briny here, there was no sense that the ocean was close by.

This, of course, immediately reminded me of Frederikke Sørensen’s estate in St. Croix, U. S., Virgin Islands.  All my senses here were quite awakened during this very fast-paced, rather real experience.

Flying ahead, I made for the complex which had a number of low-rise apartment buildings.  They were about six-to-seven storeys at most.  All of them were built unusually close together.

The more I tried to get close to them, the more my flight increasingly became laboured.  It was as though I was being subjected to the EHs’ sonar probe.  I couldn’t now achieve the desired altitude to get myself up to the higher storeys of the buildings.

This had the feel of there being forces at play here that superseded my will.  Although I had begun my flight low to the ground, the attempts to rise higher left me incapable of pushing upwards and past a certain barrier.

There now seemed some invisible force field activated that did everything to impede my will.  My fate seemed, somehow, to have been to experience contact with the EHs.

Regardless, I forged ahead.  My flight now seemingly more a diving swim whilst struggling upstream against a strong, overpowering river.  Finally, I made my way up to the complex of some eight buildings.

This really did feel as though it were in the Miami area rather than say St. Croix, Hawaii or even Sydney, Australia – the latter two to which I have yet to travel.

The grounds here were beautifully landscaped; quite impressive, in fact, they were.  The style was art deco with windows that wrapped about the sides of the corner apartments.  Each apartment had its own tiny independent balcony.

Off in the cover of the arboreal growth, to the side of the buildings, I noticed that the EHs had stationed sentinels to guard the captured buildings.

The inhabitants were all trapped inside; they were grounded in their paralysed bodies.  The sentinels were not at all human; rather, they were silver, spherical robotic probes that guarded the buildings.

They each had a network of spokes radiating from them that monitored activity; they served as satellites to keep the human inhabitants grounded.

Just before willing my hovering body from amongst the trees, I noticed that there was one particular sentinel; it was hovering at a third storey apartment’s window.

Since I had already begun to move, it had definitely noticed me.  Right away, it made for me and came at me.  Silver, it rotated clockwise.  Soon, I realised as it passed above me that it had not, in fact, seen me; it was simply on a regular timed patrol.

Slowly, I made my way over to the building; I remained undetected.  Willing myself with great focus, I managed my way higher and rose up the side of the building.  There I went on the side of a balcony and sought cover.

No sooner than I had gotten there that a very stout, Fernando Botero-like White woman came after me.  This was the most bizarre infuriating bit of WST (Waking State Transference).

Here was this moronic idiot coming to capture me for the EHs.  She couldn’t see me as another human being.  I was a goddamn, no good, so-and-so, trying to escape.

Like the programmed shaved rat she has always unthinkingly been, she immediately had to set the authorities on me.  In this case it was the aliens because, god only knows, the EHs are “our” friends.

I was a Black male and doing something as unlawful as flying.  This woman was truly not aware that she was in the dreamtime.  She was brain-dead.

All that she could do was slip into her acculturated attack mode and get my “fucking, Black arse…” Full stop.  I was beyond being livid.

Instead of taking a frigging breath and flying with me, she just had to go vilifying me.  Together, as humans sharing a common heritage, we could have had companionship and escaped together.

Rather, I was some N-word out to loot her of all she had that being: mere material things and fuck-all else.  She was hideous to the core.  She wore white slacks and a pretty floral top looking like a Floridian, living comfortably off her investments or a dead partner’s conveniently-early demise.

She did have great big knockers on her – real bouncy cockteasers.  However, a real greed-fixated, objectionable character she was.  In addition, she did have somewhat of a deep tan.

Her hands were fat and stubby-fingered denoting heart trouble brought about, no doubt, by too much drink, smoking and or iatrogenic sloth.  She lunged for me grasping at my body.  I managed to stealthily out-dodge her and escape.

Quickly, I made it back to the cover of the woods close-by.  Somehow, she seemed able to levitate.  It was then that it dawned on me that she just might have been a very convincingly disguised EH.

It was effective because she surely came off as a fearful racist idiot and, of course, those tit-fuck magnets were ample bait.

*This was quite an insightful take on life in the waking state.  For, to all intents and purposes, there are really EHs among us.  Of course, it goes without saying that my initial perception of her reeked of my own WST ignorance.

The way in which a sizeable portion of the humans collectively relate to other humans, certainly and in particular Blacks, you would think that they were EHs dreading contact with the locals.  END.

Swerving off to the left, I had been able to fly clear of her reach and the balcony.  Into the thick growth of tropical trees I flew.  As soon as I entered the woods, I was immediately free of the weightiness that kept me close to the ground.

Straight away, I soared higher.  Thanks to the trees’ invigorating energies, I was immediately energised.  It was as though they were able to override the EHs’ psychic web giving me renewed strength.

They were able to strip me of the wear that the EHs’ sonar force field had exacted.  Momentarily pausing, I hovered upright, directly drinking of the large trees’ energies whilst recharging my chakras.

As my energies increased, thanks to the arboreal hosts, my body began slowly levitating as I hovered upright.  Now I was high up, for being fully energised, in the bosom of their expansive negative-ioned crowns.

With that, I continued my escape and decided to stay within the cover of the woods.  Above all, I wanted to be in direct contact with the arboreal giants’ distilled loving energies which had revitalised me.


Even though I was now higher, I still wasn’t able to fly at great speeds.  Whilst flying ahead, I began following an old footpath way below.  Instead of directly flying above it, I hung back to the right of it and well inside the cover of the overhanging trees.

There in the thick of the wooded area, on the footpath below, I saw a couple of guys.  When looking up, they saw me right away.  They laughed at me knowing that my attempt to escape was futile.

Though they looked White, I knew from their laughter that they were EHs but in human disguise.  What had really caught my interest was the way that they laughed.  Whenever they did laugh, they looked at each other and aggressively nodded.

There was something peculiar about it; it just wasn’t very human.  They were not, in essence, simian.  This was when it dawned on me that, when they were on the planet, these EHs were able to adopt host bodies.

That is to say that they simply manufactured bodies that they then inhabited, at will or when required, that covered their true species’ identity.  In their natural state on their home planet, however, they did not look a thing remotely simian-mammalian.

They wore human bodies, much the way one would wear appropriate gear, when going on a trip to the Antarctic, the Amazon basin or the Sahara.

It was all about adapting, truth be told, so as to survive the terrain.  For these EHs, they wore a human body as it was akin to wearing a wetsuit when going scuba diving.

Somehow, they were able to shift their forms and adopt the human model.  This was not just local to being planetside on Earth.  These EHs had the capacity to adapt.  Therefore, they became whatever their host species looked like on the planets that they chose to visit.

They were quite simply more reptilian, in the chameleon sense, than simian-mammalian.  Whilst I hovered there, reflecting on all this, I realised that the woman on the balcony was there to pacify and blend in with the human locals.

She, however, was definitely an EH and her racist response would only make her seem that much more authentic.  Ingenious!  I do believe that this chameleon arrangement is likely more so the norm for spacefaring interstellar civilisations than not.

It makes for fewer traumas on the uninitiated galactic peasants – such as humans.  Whilst hovering above them, I had an expansive awareness of how this would be possible.

Basically, for being off one’s home planet, one was as if at the astral plane between lives.  The moment you went into alien space, about another star system’s inhabited worlds, you were not physiologically constrained.

Unlike the locals, an alien on another planet was free of the host planet’s set of electromagnetic, astrophysical, neurological, physiological and psychological constraints.

This, for all EH species, made being on another planet a truly liberating experience.  During the flux of space travel, more of the will came into play and one became more so creator than the created.

That means that the intellect was greatly expanded.  Once free of indigenous planetary constraints, an EH could morph its gravity-free neutralised body at will.

In terms of the Michael Teachings being spacebound was tantamount to having neutral Overleaves.  When one was in the space of a desired alien planet, one could simply construct the right overleaves from the neutral base.  This would allow one to adapt and blend into the local vibrational imperatives.

Thus one did not have to use, by way of possession, the body of a local – too much potential karma there.  In some situations, the EHs simply manufactured bodies that served their needs and were applicable to the desired alien world.

Like walking with a couple of wetsuits, if going on a scuba diving trip, so too the EHs could show up prepared with their own prêt-à-porter human bodies.

‘What might the “made in…” tag be for such off-world fashions,’ I wondered.

By keeping to my agendum, I flew past them whilst thinking of escaping this whole experience altogether.  As I flew past, one of them remarked that he did not realise that we humans had the capacity to levitate.  Said he, he did not realise that we were so evolved.

However, then shrugging, he added that levitation was but the tip of the galaxy.  This was his telepathic image which I had initially mistaken for a slab of ice in space.  That had made me think of an iceberg but it clearly wasn’t.

He was referring no doubt to a whole host of skills, which they possessed, that we as a species had no awareness of.  Space travel was implied by his smug dismissal.

Again, they laughed, aggressively nodded and sounded like a mix of semi-feral hyenas or wolves rather than simian-stocked humankind.  On flying past them, I then happened on three Black guys who were also in the woods.

They were all naked and fully aroused.  Theirs were cocks easily fourteen inches apiece.  They stood there, side by side, energetically masturbating.

The guy in the middle had an upturned dick on him.  Of the three, he was jet black.  The man on his left was brown-complected whilst the other was High-Yellow.  The guy in the middle’s cock grew harder by the second.

It was incredible to watch a cock grow so huge, so rapidly.  Thicker than a tasty Polish sausage, it was uncut and a prized sight.  Again, close observation of their behaviour indicated that they were planetside EHs in human disguise.

Everything about them said that they were not human.  From the formation that they stood in, to their complexions, they simply were not human.  Even to their obsession with having an orgasm, theirs was behaviour that was not human.

It was a study of human sexuality – the way they stood there holding their mammoth dicks and jacking off.  For all intents and purposes, they were three EH scientists doing research.

They were collecting data whilst exploring the human experience.  As well, their oversized dicks were a tool for getting unsuspecting locals to become addicted to them.

Their wunder-schlongs could easily hypnotise one into becoming their prey; they were, in that sense, a true size-queen delight.  More than that, part of their reason for being there was so that they could get me enthralled.

Since I had already been able to effectively escape, both the fat woman and the other group of men, they used their big sex to make weak-willed size queen of me.  This was plan B – get him by way of sex.

Frankly, I was no dumb native so chose not to settle for their transparent bait.  With that, I kept on flying through the woods.  There was always something to the eyes of these people that ultimately gave them away.

They simply did not have an instinctive psychic bond, for not being genuinely human, which right away one could discern.  This was a subtle distinction which we humans so overlook.  However, it has become part of the instinctual wealth of information that we psychically exchange when interacting.

These people just never had that connection that rung true.  There was just that indefinable something, which eluded them, for being EHs.  I then followed the forking path that went off to the right.

Soon, this got me out of the woods and to an area where there was a large group of Blacks.  They were all media people – print, television, radio, film.  All of them were hiding out on the corner of a large building.

They were filing a report on the EHs by huddling and filming the goings on.  They were in the process of filing a live report.  After I cleared the woods, I noticed some EHs just beyond the edge of the woods.  They were unmistakably EH and in broad daylight.

They were dressed in late-Georgian, early Regency garb.  The men wore lots of white lace and tight long pants.  They were all terribly aristocratic-looking; they were very European in style.  There were even a couple of horse drawn carriages.

It was as if, these EHs were a bit off on their choice of timeline.  For the look that they were affecting was clearly off by multiple decades.  They were involved in projecting their consciousness to appear as human as possible.

However, they were all off by at least a couple of hundred years.  This served to show up their techniques for space travelling and how they made contact with the locals.

They simply blended in.  In that way, they could be in the alien world doing their research without being an intrusive presence.  This glaring miscalculation ultimately wouldn’t help them in their work.

Unperturbed, they kept calling out to the group of Black media persons.  They were trying to get them to come closer to them.  They knew that they were being filmed; however, the humans simply hung back and kept on shooting to document their presence.

Frankly, from their perseverance, it was obvious that the EHs were intent on capturing us.  I for one did not want to join in a group.  As a result, I chose not to get too caught up with the media people.

In my attempts to flee them, I had comfortably remained hovering in the air.  I had refused to alight and come down to earth.  However, I had been above the group of Black media people and around the edge of the building’s cover.

Some Blacks in the media party looked on at me as though to try and figure out if I was one of the EHs.  They were soon assured by probing my energies that I was genuinely as I seemed; not an EH was I.

Finally, I decided to take my leave of them as they continued their standoff with the aliens who were across the road and wide-open field.

The building was a red brick affair.  It stood, down an incline, lower than the road it faced.  Making for the road, I now flew of choice fairly close to the ground.

There was a great deal of verdant grass on either side of the road.  On the right side of me, rushing across the expansive field ran Pericles from the woods as I flew some twelve feet above the street.

He was joining Isabella and the other siblings – Isis and Pandora minus Rio da Braga, of course, about whom I almost never dream.  They stood there in the fields, like many others, who were all intrigued by the idea of seeing the EHs.

Concerned for their safety, I excitedly began to shout down to my siblings to get lost and go take cover.  Pericles joined them, just shy of me and below.  He was considerably stouter, darker and slower.

As currently is the case in the waking state, he was bearded.

“Boy is me who taught him how to fly in dreams you know!” Pericles began saying of me.

“In fact, I was the one who invented flying in the dreamtime.  I’m the one credited in history as having invented flying in the dreamtime…”

There and then, I became summarily disgusted by Pericles’ ridiculous megalomania.  For all his pomposity, in the true sense of the word, I realised from where I hovered that Pericles was a very small individual.

With that, I took my leave of them.  I realised that this was a group of people who could only ever have a hostile response to me.

Pericles being there, doing exactly what he did, was the chief reason for my position in this dynamic.  Furthermore, they were never going to take him to task for it.

When I encountered them, on that stretch of the road, the sky though daytime out was now overcast.  It seems that there was going to be some storm up ahead.

Before taking my leave of them, I boomed down at Pericles telling him to fuck off.  Isabella had hung back and rolled her eyes.  She then cracked a wicked grin at his absurd nonsense as bullshit eloquently flowed from Pericles’s beguiling lips.

*After I left my siblings, I thought back to the two EHs in the woods who were disguised as White males.  I had to agree with them because, indeed, it would mentally take a great leap to become a spacefaring civilisation.

Frankly, the approach on this planet was futile.  It was, in fact, an ill-conceived approach to things yet it was perfectly understandable.  It was born of the same ignorance and arrogance which had informed the exploration of the New World.

The key to successfully making the leap, to being a spacefaring civilisation, was intellectual – as per astraphysics.  That is to say, using the interior realms, the astral plane as the basis for exploration was the answer.

Space travel is about projection of consciousness when being in an elevated state.  It is a state of being in which both intellect and spirit are harmonised leading to true travel.

Travel without moving; this was the way to cross the expanse of space.  For being astrally focussed, one could use the astral plane’s physics to be able to span the illusion of space to travel to any point in time across space.

This was not something that was chiefly done by physical means.  Presently, there is no connection between man and his being in human space travel.

This is directly because this is a Eurocentric approach.  A direct result, this is, of Western civilisation being divorced from nature.  The ultimate nature is internal.

Spirit, intellect and body are nature.  The present arrangement’s approach has not yet made the connection between man and nature.  There is no input of the astronaut’s spirit or for that matter his intellect.

It is all rote behaviour; they lock themselves into their harnesses and hope like hell the computers don’t fail and that they don’t end up like another Challenger space shuttle.

Machines do the job rather than nature; the astronauts themselves do not do the job by having their intellect – their interior realms – interface and fly their spacecrafts.  In that sense, they are very much so like the test dog and chimpanzee that were sent into space.  Today’s astronauts are currently along for the ride.

This reflects Westerners’ heritage of being divorced from the nature within themselves.  It was this lack of awareness that had them arrogantly kill and rape the New World’s inhabitants to secure their place therein.

There was no room for cohabitation because they did not see the humanity, the nature, in the locals that they had encountered.  The “natives” – the derogatory for the locals whom they encountered living in synch with nature – were an obstacle to their agenda.  For living in accord with nature, the New World’s indigenous inhabitants would pay.

This, of course, harkens back to the message which the great master, Lord Jesus imparted,

“Love one another and live in accord with nature.”

Of course, for that he was murdered; ever since, this planet’s dominant civilisation has lived out of synch with nature.  Nature, as Christ imparted, was simultaneously internalised as well as externalised.

The microscopic mutually reflected in the macroscopic.  This was not gleamed two millennia ago; to this day, it has still not been gleamed.  Thus the prevailing cultural paradigm would have us cross the exigencies of space by forging ahead against nature.

Nature is therefore an aspect which we don’t see being innately a part of us.  To go outwards, one always has to move inwards; it is the only way to grow.  By looking within and harmonising his nature, man would finally be able to move without and engage in successful space travel.

All that the present spacefaring attempts suggest is how very out of synch, with nature, man has become.  All it does is waste time and demonstrate that greatest sign of being out of synch with nature – the damn thing pollutes!

When this internal harmonisation with nature occurs, a fusion between the waking and dream states is affected.  In this way, one is able to project the more evolved aspect of the integrated self, the dreamer self, into the waking state.

The waking intellect when fully aligned, with the dreamer self, enable one to project consciousness to anywhere in the universe.  The focussed will enables one to move in an unrestricted manner to any alien world.

This is because a revolutionary shift occurs with the harmonisation of inner and outer nature – waking consciousness harmonised with dreamer consciousness.  This fusion of intellect and spirit results in the emergence of Naturali.

Unlike ‘Human,’ Naturali or Natural Mankind is able to manipulate both physical plane and astral plane physics thereby becoming truly magical – magus.  This fusion allows him to project his Naturali self, into any point in space within and beyond his native Star system.

This is about becoming limitless in perception.  Naturali is never self-restrained.  This has been achieved and continues to be experienced by some societies in human history – be it in parts of the Himalayas, Andes, Amerindian plains, pre-Dynastic Egypt, the Aboriginies of Australia, some First Nations societies, some Europeans like the Druids and the Dogon.

In these cases man has made the leap from being merely human to become Naturali.  Humanity is chiefly divorced from nature – his true self.  For that, humanity is primarily caught up in being divorced.

Fragmented mankind is lacking in harmony between inner nature and outer self.  This has led to the culture of senseless and perpetual warfare that has predominated in Western civilisation for the last two-plus millennia.

The result is an unevolved expression of our potential.  There is little awareness of true potential.  There is, however, much inner chaos and all of it is graphically illustrated by paradigms which do nothing but perpetuate this lack of fusion.

The negative paradigms, resultant for having murdered yet another great master – Christ, create imbalance which leads to all the ‘isms’ from which one chooses not to escape: lookism, racism, ageism, sexism, classism.  For that reason, most of these EHs are master dream adepts because they are able to use this fusion of inner and outer nature to transcend the boundless limits of space.

Ultimately, the limit of space is purely intellectual.  In a sense, it is a good thing that the present arrangement exists.  All that would result, if present human civilisation were to become spacefaring, is that they would exactly repeat what they did on venturing into the New World.

Since then, this culture of rape and pillage has never been addressed.  This is because the former Europeans have been too busy having to police their appropriation of looted territory and enslaved and or terrorised peoples.

Never having had a chance to reflect or transcend their blind conceit, there has been no internalisation.  This precisely is the leap necessary for that harmonisation of mankind’s integral selves.

A spiritual transformation is necessary that would enable Western civilisation to then truly become a starfaring civilisation.  In the meantime, the mercantile paradigm rules as this planet’s prevailing order.  The alternative doesn’t now, of course, seem practical because how can you set up shop and trade in the dreamtime?

This is how perfect and right the current, prevalent, Western paradigm seems.  However, it is an awareness as uninformed as the conviction 500 years ago by some that to sail beyond the horizon would lead to falling off the flat Earth.

Thus these EHs are able to project their spacefaring dreamer self civilisations, in this case, to Earth.  Interestingly enough, this was validated by the stars in the sky being not familiar in the least.

They were the familiar stars from the night sky of the EH race’s homeworld.  This is part of the necessary anchoring, for the EH stardreamers, to successfully return to their homeworld.  They appeared as technologically advanced because they were not in their homeworld’s dreamspace.  END.

After leaving my siblings behind, I flew down above the narrow road.  A lone, dark pine-green house stood on the right side of the road.  It was a two-storeyed wooden house.

On seeing it, I flew over and approached the front door.  I decided to go take cover inside because one of the carriages, in which the EHs rode, was barrelling down the road after me.

Both carriages were being drawn by two white horses apiece.  The carriages were dark, high, wooden affairs, not black though, like Amish ones.  A man was calling from the carriage to follow me.

On going into the front door, I was met by a narrow foyer.  At the far end, there was a winding staircase.  Even when in the hallway, I was still levitating.  A tall jet-black woman was washing the walls.

On closer inspection, I realised that all the walls were slowly undulating.  This, to say the least, was displacing.  Truly surreal, the walls were never static.  In that sense, one had an awareness of the house being alive and breathing.

The feeling was very nurturing; womblike and soothing it was.  The walls had warmth to them; their surfaces looking as though liquid.  The woman kept on intently focussing on her task.

Meanwhile, on the wall to my right, there was a dish detergent ad being run.  It was most bizarre, the entire wall was being used as a screen onto which was projected the advertisement.

*Whilst I slept neither the television nor radio was on.  END.

The wall was as if a tiled ceramic screen.  At the far end of the hallway, through an arched doorway, I looked.  There I saw a clock at the centre of a mantelpiece.

About eighteen inches tall, the clock was a white, blue-with-some-green, ceramic timepiece.  It was columnar and had a phallic look at the top.  It was more so, however, like the arched roof of a hut than not.  It was the most beautiful piece of ornamentation.

It had the look of a Ming vase; it was even more ancient-looking than some of the oldest surviving pieces of Chinese objets d’art.  The green was really from so many centuries of being in a damp environment which left it mossy in places.

In addition to that, there was a yellowish hue to the vase-like body of the timepiece.  This, of course, bespoke how terribly aged this vase-like timepiece was.  It would suggest that this was created in an age that easily predated the Ming Dynasty by multi-millennia.

Struck by the ethereal qualities of this house, I looked back at the walls.  They really were undulating, in a truly Salvador Dali-like surreal manner.

Looking back, I noticed that the clock was no longer static.  It began warping and drooping over and it did so to the point where it was hard to ever make out the time.

I could make out that it did have two hands on it.  However, the clock was hypnotically doing this slow undulating dance.  It meltingly drooped from side-to-side in a manner that was sublime and genuinely surreal.

I then made my way into a bedroom leaving the Black woman behind in the hallway.  She seemed to be getting more and more disoriented but I knew that, in the end, she would be okay.

This bedroom was on the ground floor from whose window I could see out to the backyard.  All around, the sunken house looked up to an open grassy knoll.

So though on the ground floor, when looking out the window, it seem as though one were permanently in the basement.  On hearing the carriages pulling up out front, I had gone there to take refuse.

In the room was a singer who reminded me of Sinéad O’Connor.  Her scalp was near-shaven – but for the blond bristles that spiked her head throughout.

She was dressed as a cave woman and also carried a staff.  This seemed to be all part of a stage persona of hers.  I silently watched as she got ready to, it would seem, go perform.

She seemed to be a rock ‘n’ roll singer.  I assumed as much because of her shaved scalp.  She was very tanned and looked almost as though she had been permanently singed.  However, it was not as though she was of Dravidian heritage either.  Hers were a great pair of Sagittarian thighs; they were very Tina Turner-like legs.

She wore an animal skin toga with a side slit skirt that nicely showed off her body.  On her feet she wore a wonderful pair of brown, leather high heels whilst frantically pacing about the room.

She was cursing out, ‘these stinking aliens,’ at whom she was imaginarily jabbing with her club.  The arrival of the EHs had obviously interrupted her ascendancy to fame and fortune.

Then a very strikingly handsome, dark EH appeared; he looked tanned like the actor, George Hamilton – that perpetually Sun-darkened stunner.  There were lots of sage soul energies to his look.  He appeared in the single window to the outside.

When lit from behind, it only made this obvious EH’s intense-frequencied eyes and handsomeness that much more stunning.  Charmingly, he came in through the window and said hello extending his hand to her.

This man was supremely charming with lots of Mars-Venus-Pluto trine energy.  His outfit was more so Regency than Victorian with frilly sleeves.  He was a dandy from the look of his dress and cultured mannerisms.

This man was more charming than the most exquisitely celebrated courtiers, in human history, have been.  This man’s cultured fluidity made fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld look downright bland by comparison.

His shirt ended in a high-buttoned collar that made it look as though he were wearing a turtleneck.  A great flair and air of bravura about him yet he wasn’t flashy.

He was sophisticated and possessed of a slightly flared, sexually charged nose.  In that sense, he rather resembled the sexual beauty of the actor Ralph Fiennes.

His was a wonderful spirit with great theatrical timing to his persona.  Regardless, his EH identity being anything but human, his true nature shone through.  This extra-human was undoubtedly a sage soul.

Jet-black hair was brushed up and back off his high-foreheaded face.  Two arms fell down, in thick sideburns, to hug the sides of his handsome face in place.

This man’s intensely riveting eyes left Tom Cruise’s, in terms of his eyes’ sheer magnetism, looking like the vacant eyes of a grinning oaf; certainly, this is not the case with Mr. Cruise but comparatively his eyes seemed dull next to this EH’s.  A devilishly handsome rogue of a man, he was.

On seeing him enter the room, I went and slipped under this wonderful, antique chaise longue.  Since I was still in flight, I hovered beneath it, never touching the floor.

He had been directly focussed on the woman when entering the room.  I don’t know who this woman was, she did seem human enough, but it was clear that his objective was to capture her.

Perhaps, she was an EH disguised as Earth human – one who had become lost in her fulfillment of her mandate.  It would seem that she had gotten hooked, working as a performer, on being a star on the rise.

Though I was beneath the chaise longue, I was able to see everything going on inside the room.  The sagely EH in dark Regency garb entered the house by effortlessly walking through the window, including the wall beneath the window, when entering through it.

Though he could easily have hopped through the opened window, he chose to state his resolve and let nothing stop in his way.  He telepathically overpowered the woman.

Though deceptively extending his hand to her, I could hear him hissing at her which caused her to drop to her knees.  Then he told her, that she needn’t worry, that there was nothing for her to fear.

She was truly terrified.  She was pleading with him to not kill her.  He grinned at her.  His was a smile that was nine parts guile with a surface veneer of charm.

Though I was hovering beneath the chaise longue, I had another perspective of the room.  I was as if perched aloft and just below the ceiling.  This left me with two simultaneous perspectives.

From beneath the chaise longue, I could see up to the two persons’ knees.  From above, I saw everything and was never noticed by either person below.  I had deftly rendered myself invisible.

He was so dark-hued that I passingly thought that he could even have been High-Yellow.  When this man smiled, the room simply lit up.  This was a truly hyper-wattaged smile.

He was a swashbuckling dandy; one whose handsomeness was also very reminiscent of Douglas Fairbanks Jr.’s.  He then began stroking her left cheek.  Meanwhile, I sailed out from beneath the chaise longue and began levitating to a higher position.

I slowly flew over to another window from which I got a really good look at things.  After having crossed behind him, I turned to look back just in time to see his next move.

From his right pocket he took an object; it looked like a large, halved oyster shell.  This object was just as gossamer-hued as an oyster shell’s interior; clearly, it was no such thing.

He then placed the object to the left corner of her mouth and her jaw line.  Whilst kneeling, she pleadingly looked up peering into his soul.  Her ajar generous-overbite mouth negotiated with him.

She did her best to appear cool and diffident.  She tried her best to be alluring to him.  He was so much more handsome than her.  She pleaded with him not to hurt her.  He replied by telling her not to worry.

With that I turned to fly through the window, to his rear, in which he had first appeared.  Just as I drank in the warmth of the beautiful welcoming light outside, she let out a broken scream that pierced through me.

Looking back, I found the sagely gentleman.  He was holding the charred remains of her body, inside the groove of the nacreous, oyster shell-looking object.  The shell-like object was smoking with the reduced remains of the woman’s body.  It was a truly horrific sight.

I realised that this oyster shell-like object was, in fact, an accumulation of all the persons whom he had murdered to date.  Her charred body had added to the size of the object.  It was easily one third larger than before it had been.

Not a single drop of her charred remains was anywhere on the floor.  This validated that this woman knew the meaning of the object that he had procured.  She was clearly an EH; she was being terminated for having failed in some way.

I wondered if it meant that she was being returned to the homeworld incarcerated.  Perhaps, rather than being killed outright, she was merely being arrested though it looked like being assassinated on this end.

For being in a human bodysuit, whatever her natural state was, this nacreous oyster-like object was specifically designed to capture her.  In its wake it left the shell of her former self.

Clearly, their human bodysuits were not authentic hard matter.  It was partly holographic, seemingly an astral phantom, if you like.  Either way, the whole thing was fairly sinister.

Well, I had seen all that I wanted to see.  It was time to click my heels and fly on home and away from this Oz!  I instantaneously was out of there.

When jetting free of the window, I soared aloft and jetted for the cover of the far-off woods.  These arboreals were behind the house.  I made it there with lightning speed.

The arboreal energy precisely was what I needed to speed me along.  I became magnetised to the arboreals’ energy.  No fear clamoured my thoughts; I wanted the devil away from this place.

Faster and faster, I kept on flying using the trees’ energies.  The arboreals’ life force proved the raw fuel that jetted me along.  On flying in amongst the tree crowns, every branch and trunk that I negotiated only added to the thrill of my escape.

Their raw energy actually sped up my vibration and allowed me to fly faster.  The faster I flew, the more their energies bombarded me and allowed me to escape being overtaken by the sagely rogue.

Eventually, I happened on a large industrial complex.  It stood directly next to the break in the woods.  I had simply been catapulted from the woods and into one of the tiny windows that sat high up the side of the building.  The windows were close to the ceiling.

Once inside, I sought to take cover.  At this point, I was confident that nothing was certain any longer.  Even my family seemed initially EH!  That is until, of course, Pericles began spewing his delusional ya-ya.

My presence seemed to have set off an alien surveillance system.  It was seemingly designed to go off on the detection of humans.  Straight away, a fat White woman was dispatched to prevent me from trying to escape.

She was told to not let me through an exit close by.  She had been directed by an even fatter, Fernando Botero-like White male who wore military garb.

All these fat people only validated my suspicions that the woman on the South Beach, Miami-styled, art deco apartment buildings was, in fact, an EH.

All these abnormally fat persons were all EH who paraded about in human bodysuits.  Somehow, I suspected that there was some atmospheric reason for their suits bloating and thereby leaving them seemingly dysfunctional as they did.

Then too, perhaps their natural bodies made the largest dinosaurs look comparably like ants do to us humans.  The plant seemed some military installation or other.

Perhaps, it was a communications installation for their Gaian operations.  A high and black-haired, done-up-in-a-bun woman in a pink dress had opened the exit.

I was trying to make it through, however, soon realised that she was there to prevent me from getting out.  Then through a bar she levitated when lying on her back.

She was accompanied by the military-garbed rotund man who also levitated on his back.  He, however, was on the other side of the bar.  Sadistically, the general squeezed the fellow-levitating woman’s hand.

Right before my eyes, he then began a metamorphosis; it was, in fact, quite rapid.  In the end, he went from being an obese hideous man to being a svelte blonde woman.

This was all the proof I ever needed that these, indeed, were no mere mortals.  The bars looked like the harnesses, which pen in bucking horses, at a rodeo.  This complex was quite an unusual-looking place.

For one thing, it was easily larger than the largest, American military hangars, by a factor of ten times; it was massive!  The machinery here was like nothing technologically from any period here in Earth’s, comparably short technological history.

There were spacecrafts which looked like sports coupe-sized shuttles.  They were all made of a very solid-looking metal and one which definitely does not originate on this planet.

This was obviously the repairs and storage shop for their operations here on Earth.  Whilst they underwent their little persona-change, shall we say, I quietly slipped through the complex’s large front doors.  I was, of course, still in flight.

No sooner than had I made it outside that I was being pursued by a group who were trying to capture me.  Several other persons had also bolted from the plant about the same time as I did.  They, too, were clearly earthly human.

This was during the downtime when the general was changing into his blonde bombshell bodysuit.  There had been a number of locals who had gathered about marvelling at the spectacle of me in flight as I tried to flee.

Resolved to never be captured, I soared into the air and soon made it over this four-storeyed, green-shingled, steep-roofed building.  Stopping to hover over the cover of the roof, I then cautiously made it to the back edge.

Sure enough, I found a number of EHs below who were intently looking up at me.  Hovering there, I studied them and considered what should be my next move.  Still, they remained below.

The EHs readily turned their bland glazed expression to one of seething rage.  Their look was filled with hunger as they were intent on capturing me.

I was not going to be captured by whoever these people were.  There were two persons standing there on the roof.  Soon, it became obvious that they were engaging in a bit of group mindfuck of me.

They were telepathically trying to convince me to jump.  Somehow, they were trying to override my mind.  In a bid to get me to jump to my death, they tried to sell me on the notion that I was not hovering in flight.

They attempted to convince me that I was precipitously standing at the edge of the rooftop.  Their advice to me was to simply jump and suicide.

According to them, it was the least torturous options left me at this juncture.  Wanting to get away from them, I thought to try and fly higher still.

These EH had the same energy signature as the two EHs whom I had encountered on first flying from the balcony at the South Beach, Miami-like, lowrise apartment complex.  When those two human bodysuit-wearing EHs had laughed, they behaved as though of semi-feral hyena stock.

These men, who were trying to mindfuck me, were as if sentries – intelligence agents – whose job it was to police operations and make sure that we mere mortals did not know too much.  They also seemed as though, in their lethal singleness of purpose, automatons or even clones.

It took a lot of psychic energy to block out their telepathic invasion.  They were trying to wrestle power of my mind and have me act as they wished.  As I repelled the negative vortices that they directed my way, it proved quite a struggle.  I would not be vanquished.

However, somehow, I did not know if I could actually pull it off.  Instead, I decided to simply awake.  At this point, I had been flying for longer than I had done to date, in long years.

This was one continuous dream, in which I was almost exclusively in flight.  More than 95% of the dream’s progress was passed with me being in flight.

I knew that since there were no trees about to lend me support that the easier thing to do, at that point, was to simply awaken.  Too, I knew that were I to have been captured/overpowered by them, I would have awakened with no recollection of these dream experiences.

Dreams, of course, are purely experiential.  Much of what occurs during what we loosely refer to as dreams is, at times, more real than the somnambulant dreck we yawn our way through – half the time – in the waking state.

*The intriguing thing about this crystal is that it was the second Madagascan transmitter crystal that I would own.  Just as with the other, the first time that I would become attuned to them, I would be left in receipt of the most unique of experiences.

The first time, it was back on November 30, 1988 when I had the sublime OBE (out-of-body experience) whilst still awake.  The second, of course, would then result in today’s experiences.

I had gotten a Madagascan, transmitter quartz crystal and a Brazilian amethyst.  However, there was something unmistakably potent about these crystals.  Both came from the same region and were informed with a strong sense of the Cosmic.

When I awoke, I was enervated but I was not exhausted.  The whole thing had been too intense as I desperately sought not to be captured.  I was desperately trying to figure out some way to make it out of this harrowing set of astrally projected dream experiences.

**One of the things, which has come to light, since having dreamt this glorious dream, is that both Merlin and I were alive during the Georgian/Regency era.  I would discover during my many Michael Overleaves charted that both Merlin and I, in a former life, were musicians at the court of King George III.

I was male with a sparkling personality and Merlin was my female accompanist.  I was a soloist singer who was a favourite entertainer at court.  How there is a tie-in to that shared past life at the court of King George III and the extra-humans, at this point, is beyond me.

Rest assured, however, that there is a likely tie-in somewhere.  It was quite visceral to have witnessed the sagely extra-human as he came to dispense with the other extra-human – the female performer who had not fulfilled her mandate.


These preceding dreams occurred, on Sunday, January 17, 1993, whilst the Moon transited both Sagittarius and my seventh house.

I had slept in the collapsible pyramid with recently purchased crystals.  Not surprisingly, this combination triggered astrally projected dreams that took me to points unknown.

Without a doubt, the good burghers whom I encountered were not exactly from Kansas.  

So there you have it dreamers, of course, we are not the only ensouled fare in the universe.  To really know what’s going on out there, and right here at home, be most lucidly awakened in the dreamtime. 

Short of that you may as well go looking for dubious virgins in cloud formations…  EHs and their big-sexed plan B notwithstanding, my plan B is love which ever vanquishes fear!  

Here’s wishing you glorious flying dreams and don’t forget to push off and start flying… I would love to know what joy you’ve fathomed in dreams’ sweet embrace. 


© 2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Nancy Wilson… and More.


Wilson, Nancy 20/2/1937<O>13/12/2018

Michael: This fragment was a third-level mature artisan – second life thereat.  Nancy was in the passion mode with a goal of growth.  An idealist, she was in the emotional part of intellectual centre. 

Body type was Solar/Saturn. 

Nancy’s primary chief feature was self-deprecation and the secondary stubbornness. 

The fragment Nancy is fifth-cast in sixth cadence; he is a member of greater cadence five.  Nancy’s entity is seven, cadre four, greater cadre 1, pod 129. 

Nancy’s essence twin is an artisan and the task companion a warrior. 

Nancy’s primary needs were: expression, expansion and power. 

There are 10 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin. 


What a truly great voice.  Though over the years, I had attended many Nancy Wilson concerts, one in particular remains the most memorable.  It was the late set at the Blue Note Jazz Club in New York City’s West Village.  A Saturday night performance, it was at the end of the run and Ms. Wilson was in fine form.  With me that evening was Milan Newcombe, the rather eccentric lover of mine who had the most magical residence in Toronto’s Kensington Market.  

Milan and I met about a month before the 350th anniversary celebrations of Montréal in May 1992.  The day of the anniversary, there was a parade through the city’s main artery at night time; quite a unique and spectacular sight.  We stayed that weekend in a loft at the corner of Ontario and St. Laurent Streets and that night, I wore a pair of six-inch, black patent leather Bally talons hauts, a pair of extra short blue jeans that nicely sported the goods, a large, white pirate’s shirt, a confident smile whilst holding hands with the coolest motherfucker I had met since having met Merlin – Milan made a most pleasurable adventure of living. 

Jazz singer Nancy Wilson celebrated her 80th birthday on February 20th, 2017

Having just returned from a weekend in New York City with Manhattan cabaret singer, Frans Bloem, I was crawling the halls of the St. Mark’s bathhouse at Wellesley on Yonge, in a bid to get over decidedly banal sexual relations with Frans.  A great human being to be sure but sex should not be as ennuiyant and tedious as needlepoint.  Well into the late hours, after a few hookups, a long lean body caught my eye as it lay there, waiting to either prey or be preyed on.  

An hour later we emerged into the gritty, callously unforgiving light of daybreak and hopped on our bikes.  Together we rode west along Wellesley, cut through University of Toronto campus and onto Spadina, rode south on said avenue to the most magical lair imaginable.  There above a series of Chinese shops, Milan owned the two storey apartment that was filled with an assortment of Bohemians – or at least trust fund types, bored out of their skulls whilst waiting to collect their inheritance.  

Milan possessed the largest music library, I had yet or since seen.  Moreover, within that library were the most extensive recordings of harpsichord music.  If that were not specialised enough, Milan owned a harpsichord which, after we had riotously slapped, nipple-bitten, punched and me gourmandise his pygmy fin whale schlong: girth and length that makes your upper lip sweat and eyes roll back like Whitney Houston in full song, he would spend the next hour playing what proved the most captivating instrument.  Always at such times, I would become sponge-like and expansive, feeling as though in between wakefulness and sleep with a plethora of the most lucid past-life dreams flooding and surfacing my conscious mind.  Not surprisingly, that harpsichord proved a touchstone to our past-life connections and specifically to the life as court musicians in London, England during the reign of King George III and the Regency when Milan, Merlin and I plus a whole host of others whom I have known in this lifetime were greatly, creatively fulfilled.  


Newcombe, Milan 08/02/56 Toronto <O> Toronto

This fragment was a third level mature sage – first incarnation at this level, likely to repeat the level – in the passion mode with a goal of acceptance.  An idealist, he was in the intellectual centre, emotional part. 

Milan’s body type was Saturn/Venus. 

Milan’s primary chief feature was impatience and the secondary arrogance. 

The essence twin is a sage, also discarnate.  An artisan task companion he’s got, who is incarnate. 

This fragment is second-cast, cadence sixth in the greater cadence, entity six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, node 414.  Milan is in the same entity as Arvin and Merlin, sharing a strong connection through the arts. 

The three primary needs for Milan were: freedom, power and communion. 

Q: Past lives of note for Milan:

Michael:       This fragment has had many lives in the theatre and in performing, as would be expected, due to his soul age, mature and role, sage. 

He has been a well-known courtesan in nineteenth century France, to a second-in-command lieutenant to Napoleon Bonaparte and was involved in many secretive meetings to which she was privy, due to her ability to keep silent. 

She, however, was found guilty of espionage, at a later date, and hanged, at the age of 24. 

This sage has also performed with students of Hippocrates in the fifth century Common Era in Crete and also became interested in herbal medicine at that time. 

Lives in the performing arts total 24 altogether and have been both notable, such as in China in the eighth century as a puppeteer or in the caves of Borneo when he was a painter of walls with what would be called ancient hieroglyphs. 

This fragment was also present in the sixteenth century in Venice and was a student of a lesser artist, not sure about the name. 

Q: Past lives with Arvin:

Michael:      First of all, let us comment that these two fragments did have an agreement which had to do with the validation of personal expression. 

Number of past incarnations total twenty and include:

  1. These two fragments were present in the “George” life; King George III of England, when the sage was a fellow musician and trumpeter. The sage was competitive with the artisan and envious of the artisan’s natural talents.
  2. They have been married once before officially in an area of the Middle East, eleventh century BCE, when they were in an arranged marriage having to do with land and money exchange. They did get along reasonably well due to the entity connection but did argue.
  3. Makers of small ornamental objects in the first century Common Era, Crete. Both were female and cousins.
  4. These two fragments completed a sequence having to do with abandonment/abandoner in the São Paulo incarnation. The female artisan seduced the sage and then subsequently refused to continue in the relationship which led to emotional turmoil for the sage.

This first part of this sequence took place in the 1300’s in Spain when the reverse occurred but the sexes were the same, artisan still female, seduced by the sage then abandoned. 

Had this not been an agreement, there would have been mindfuck karma incurred. 

(KB: this was an important set of incarnations) 

 Q: Past lives with Merlin and the ET:

This fragment was present in the life aforementioned in the fourth century in an area of Tibet and was the mother of the task companion, former-Merlin but separated when the scholar, former-Merlin, was quite young due to religious training. 

There have been an additional four of note including one in the ninth century in China when these two fragments were enemies and came quite close to incurring karma; through combat, not agreed upon in advance, as well as one in the first century Common Era when they were married to the same male fragment; Common Law, Palestine area. 

This sage has also shared three past associations with Arvin’s essence twin which have included living in a small village in western Canada in the 1400’s both male.  They were childhood friends. 

Additionally they have fought side-by-side “on stage” when members of a travelling theatrical group in northern Italy in the sixteenth century.  The essence twin died of a fall which the sage tried to prevent but was unable to, happened when both were teens.  


Milan was magical; his home lit throughout by candelabras and the salon an exacting reproduction of an 18th century English salon.  One of the most beautiful things about sleeping over with Milan at his magical lair, was that many were the nights when I would – whilst lying next to him in bed, pleasured and satiated – spontaneously astral project.  During these marvellous OBEs (out-of-body experiences), I would get up out of my body, turn around to look at our smiling pleasured faces harmoniously lying in bed fast asleep, see the cord of silvery white light that attached my astral body to my physical body.  This cord more so resembles a caravan of tiny balls of light that are unbreakable and which attach at the solar plexus of both bodies – astral and physical.  Milan was the most sensual lover and the greatest kisser.  

This song was Milan’s favourite tune and Nancy Wilson his favourite Jazz singer – just as Natalie Cole and Betty Carter mine and John Hirsch was Ella Fitzgerald’s undisputed biggest enthusiast.  Until having met me, Milan had never listened to Jazz or explored the genre.  However, like all persons in the positive pole of their goal of acceptance, he embraced, appreciated and explored the newfound treasure that for him Jazz would prove.  With an intensity never before experienced, Milan insisted on venturing to every Jazz concert imaginable.  To that end, we took several trips to Chicago, New Orleans and, of course, New York City to nurture our souls and forge to greater depths the bond we shared.  Whenever the loving was good and god do I love a cock… especially his – hey, three billion women can’t be wrong, Milan would then play some Nancy Wilson.  Our love faded on my relocation to Vancouver – he hated grey, dreary and rainy weather, I was come undone one early morning whilst meditating in the pyramid in Vancouver, Milan appeared to me and said so long.  I knew that he had died that day – another lover passed of AIDS.  I will ever experience the sweetest memories when listening to Nancy Wilson.  

Nancy Wilson
Nancy Wilson performs at Carnegie Hall in celebration of her 70th birthday in 2007. (AP Photo/Rick Maiman)

Sweet and very blissful dreams indeed be yours Nancy: griot, linguist, shaman and truly great performer.  


As ever, thanks for your ongoing support, dream without giving a damn… cause you can and all the more reason to push off and start flying.  


©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.  

Sing It George!

Benson, George 22/3/1943 Pittsburg, Pennsylvania

Michael: This fragment is a fifth level mature artisan – second life thereat.  George is in the power mode with a goal of growth.  An idealist, he is in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Body type is Venus/Mars.

George’s primary chief feature is subdued arrogance and the secondary impatience.

The fragment George is fifth-cast in third cadence; he is a member of greater cadence four.  George’s entity is five, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 – this is a cadre mate of Arvin’s and Merlin’s.

George’s essence twin is also an artisan and he has a sage task companion.

George’s primary needs are: expression, communion and power.

There are 10 past-life associations with Arvin and 14 with Merlin.


Music is a language and Jazz is the language of a people; it speaks to no one else like it does us.  No other music readily restores one’s humanity and sense of self like Jazz does.  Interestingly, when a student at ballet school, I lived the most famous quote uttered by Diana, Princess of Wales in that Panorama interview that she gave to Martin Bashir: “There is no better way to dismantle a personality than to isolate it.” 

That is why during my two hellish years in Winnipeg, the music of Jazz is what saved me.  Interestingly enough, three musicians I looked to during that time more than any others; years later, I would discover that they are all cadre mates: Natalie Cole, John Coltrane and George Benson.  

With the passing of cadre mates Natalie Cole and Roy Hargrove, it is high time to celebrate and pay homage to George Benson while he remains focussed here and now.  


Keep on flying right whether in the most blissful of dreams or the waking state’s unforgiving grittiness… then again, it is also maddeningly beautiful!  


©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.  

Wallis? No, No, No! Try Edward VIII 2.0.


So horrid has been the unbridled racial animus at TRH Duke & Duchess’ interracial marriage that it is past the point of being alarming, to merely being plain hysterical.  Fuck these idiots; just get on with your miserable lives, which clearly were not made miserable by that weak, dimwitted race traitor, Harry, being bullied and hoodwinked into marriage by that Z list, pole dancing, unsuitable, twice-divorced Compton ho.  

wallis &amp; edward5

Naturally, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex an American divorcee, is being compared to her predecessor, Wallis Simpson who was also a divorcee.  She was said to be domineering sort and Edward VIII, her lover, a weak-willed sort who was totally controlled by her.  

wallis &amp; edward4

Similarly, as with Wallis, Meghan who is erroneously being compared to her American predecessor, Henry is seen as pussy-whipped and controlled as was deemed Edward VIII.  Be that as it may, of one thing one can be certain, unlike Meghan, Wallis was not skilled in the arts of the Kamasutra… so there is that.  

besotted and drooling

This shot of Henry during his aunt, Baroness Fellowes’ reading of scripture is seen as proof of his being controlled and foolishly controlled by the lowest of muggles.  Be that as it may, here is a man who is completely besotted and having upped his game, did win his bride in the end.  

henry eyes william

Of course, a sceptic to the core, there was Henry fixing a shrewd eye on his brother, William who everyone has failed to realise is the real Edward VIII in all this, rather than Henry.  William has more in common with the abdicated Edward VIII than does Henry.  

charles &amp; camilla

Granted, Rev Curry was a blasted buffoon who embarrassed no one but himself and it was nothing the royals had seen – to his dying day the right reverend will think himself to have been a hit… American conceit is staggering – but there were Camilla and Charles trying to make sense of what they had just seen,  


Returned from having signed the registry with his son’s gracious mother-in-law, Doria Ragland, there was William whilst the cellist weaved his magic, openly ridiculing and throwing shade.  

shades curry

There could be no doubt of William’s loathing of Rev. Curry and all that he represents.  Trust you me, if Henry had taken a Jewish wife and there was some aspect of the ceremony after Henry had converted that was bizarre, there is no way in high hell that William would have sat there and openly ridiculed the rabbi.  This display, only demonstrates William’s open bigotry.  This among other things exposes him further at having been cognisant of the “blackamoor brooch” incident.  This is the same William who has seen fit to stridently decline going on tour to any predominantly black Commonwealth nation; this has been left to his father and his wife, Camilla to undertake instead.  Scholar souls when in the negative pole of their overleaves happen to be the smog, arrogant, prejudicial persons going.  Sadly, William will never change his outlook for the remainder of his life and it will cost him dearly down the line.  


This august woman, Camilla who does not gladly indulge hostilities declined to attend Andrew’s daughter HRH Princess Eugenie’s wedding last October to Jack Brooksbank; he had always been openly hostile towards her.  Similarly, she declined to attend Christmas Service 2018 at Sandringham as she is clearly not pleased with how the senior royals, namely William and Catherine are being frosty towards Henry and his American wife.  

wallis &amp; edward2

Just as Wallis was the centre of everyone’s vitriol, as time always lays bare all secrets, Edward VIII would be exposed for the vile, bigoted, Nazi sympathiser that he was.  So, too, William has proven himself a bigoted boor on par with his great-great uncle Edward VIII.  I think it interesting that so many of the souls who have reincarnated after the Me generation have turned out to be such petty, bigoted boors, which they love smugly terming conservative. 

Lead Free Pewter Large Maple Leaf Connector

The same is seen in the current Canadian PM who has thought nothing of repeatedly running off to India to act like a buffoon in a Bollywood flick, attend every town in the land’s Gay Pride parade; however, he flatly refused to attend the 50th anniversary Caribbean Carnival celebrations in 2017.  Instead, he went kayaking.  Naturally, the same social butterfly tried his damnedest to score an invitation to the royal wedding of TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex but was justifiably decline.  He also saw positively nothing odd in excluding either blacks or Chinese from his cabinet in 2015.  Enough about Bathhouse Pierrette and his über Ketaine, just-a-tad-too-eager fag hag.  

carriage kiss

For any and all sceptics (Princes Philip and Harry – and yours truly) what we pay attention to is details.  We don’t focus on what you say but we are ever keenly focussed on what you do not say and more importantly what you do.  This can sometimes have us come off as slightly on the paranoid side but, trust you me, nothing escapes our shrewdly focussed gaze.  

William has emerged as Edward VIII’s bigoted reanimation rather than Meghan, Wallis’s reanimation.  Not a single tour to a predominantly black Commonwealth nation, turning away during the scarf incident this past Christmas when Meghan tried to engage him in conversation.  

Charles and Camilla standing at the end of the receiving line of Westminster Abbey clergy to greet senior royals, who in this case would be HM The Queen and Prince Philip.  Naturally, The Sovereign exchanges pleasantries then greets her son, father of the groom and they share a congratulatory kiss at the occasion of TRH Duke & Duchess of Cambridge’s 2011 wedding.  

Westminster Abbey, this past Armistice Day for the service of remembrance.  Though, I was then in London, I did not attend outside the Abbey to observe; rather, I was attending a commemoration concert at Barbican Centre by the London Symphony Orchestra.  Here, TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex wait, as is customary, at the end of the receiving line of the incoming senior royals.  

TRH Duke & Duchess of Cambridge deliberately stayed overlong, greeting and chatting up the Westminster Abbey clergy; they were making a point of snubbing the Sussexes.  Naturally, another betrayal of his role of instigator in the “Blackamoor Brooch” incident, William has no qualms about dismissing his brother and his otiose wife as he and by now his equally curt wife see things.  Her reaction on entering the Abbey and noticing the Sussexes spoke volumes.  

As it was plainly obvious to sceptic Harry that he was being snubbed by that conceited, thick-as-a-plank, bigoted brother of his, he simply walked away and was followed by his wife, rather than continue suffering the indignity of being made to wait overlong.  William is a bigoted arse of the first order and where the Duke & Duchess of Windsor are concerned, the parallels are to William the bigot and Edward VIII the Nazi sympathiser rather than Wallis the divorcee and Meghan also an American divorcee.  

wallis &amp; edward3

The Cambridges no more wanted to talk to the clergy and PM Theresa May than they want to have to tour some predominantly black Commonwealth nation.  They were snubbing the Sussexes because Meghan has draw and mass appeal and is not a mousy little whimp when speaking publicly like the bigot’s mare who looks frightfully severe when not grinning like a semi-feral gibbon en chaleur. 


Oh well, there was Meghan ascending the steps of St. George’s Chapel with John & Brian Mulroney, doing their parents proud, to say nothing of Ivy in her own right.  Thank god for Jessica Mulroney, for her role in that wedding as she helped to strike it straight out of the park – and she also happens to have the most deliciously vulgar laugh that tickles the soul every time.  A wedding like no other and that will always have sphinctered, drivelfest, bigoted boors seething with grudge because… well, petty humans can be expected to behave no differently.  


As ever, thanks for your ongoing support and don’t ever forget to push off and start flying when lucidly awakened in the dreamtime.  


©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.  

Roy Hargrove 16/10/1969/\/\2/11/2018

Image result for roy hargrove autumn leaves

Hargrove, Roy 16/10/1969<O>2/11/2018

Michael: This fragment was a fifth-level mature scholar – 2nd life thereat.  Roy was in the perseveration mode with a goal of growth.  Roy was a realist who was in the intellectual part of moving centre.

Roy’s primary chief feature was arrogance and his secondary was impatience.

Roy’s body type was Mercury/Lunar.

The fragment Roy is second-cast in the fifth cadence; the fragment is in the first greater cadence.  Roy is a member of entity six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 – here we have another entity mate of both Arvin’s and Merlin’s.

Roy’s essence twin is a scholar and the task companion is a sage.

Roy’s three primary needs were: expression, adventure and security.

There are 9 past-life associations between Roy and Arvin and 14 between him and Merlin.


I have always exquisitely found centre for listening to this recording.  Time seems to drift away and ideas flow with greater ease… indeed, how sweet it is to be richly inspired by an entity mate.  

“I’m in service.  I am here to touch people and make them feel better through music.” – Roy Hargrove.  

Well if that is not validation of being a member of an entity six of a cadre one, I don’t know what it.  

I always good for long days after a concert of his.  A beautiful human being.  

Sweet and blissful dreams be yours dear ennobled entity mate.  


©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.