Tag: Astrology and dreams

The Avatar Manifests.

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hrithik_roshan

That aside, here then I share a glimpse into the future with a vision of a lifetime up ahead.  It was a visionary dream and I found myself the trusted confidant and lover of a most beautiful public figure.

The dream in question occurred during the second or B sleep cycle that day.  It proved the third dream that dream quest, however, in the prior sleep cycle that day there were some ten dreams.

At the time, Sunday, October 4, 1992, the Moon was in Capricorn transiting my eighth house.  Therein is posited my natal retrograde Saturn.

Of course, this is a house innately ruled by Pluto whose powers afford one the ability to plummet the depths of the soul’s wealth of experiences across time.

In this case, the time in question proved to be into the future.  

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This was a most incredible experience.  I still have no idea in what time it took place.  However, a great religious event was taking place.

One of those massive cultural events that would transcend history this proved, rippling through time, enshrined in religious iconography.  This was set either in the very distant past of this planet’s history or, perhaps, somewhere distantly in the future.

This was a rite that was clearly Hindu in nascence.  Basically, they were performing human sacrifice.  It was most graphic and intense.

There was a great cenotaph made of natural white stone.  This was clearly a memorial to Mahatma Gandhi thereby making it a future time-framed dream.

For the human sacrifice, persons would be placed on a bier.  This was simply one of three ways that an adherent, of this future manifestation of the Hindu religion, was put to death if they were deemed to have sinned.

They could be stoned to death by the wronged community.  Secondly, they could simply be executed by firing squad – clearly this was sometime in the future.  Thirdly, before the community by burning alive – immolation, they would publicly perform ritual suicide.

This – the latter – was just such an occurrence.  I was right there, up front, witnessing one of these public ritual suicides.  This was basically a way for the priesthood to indulge in human sacrifice.

For having been falsely accused for having created karma, in some way or other, it was thus all too easy to have someone put to death.  This process of being tried and found guilty was, of course, totally arbitrary.  Inevitably mob rule, as influenced by the priesthood, had the ultimate power.

Myself, I was quite appalled to have witnessed such barbaric acts of communal sadism.  I was basically seeing what culturally had been done to Mahatma Gandhi – how he had been iconised – because he was most definitely sacrificed.

He was sacrificed, he was made a martyr when assassinated to serve the needs of the priesthood – politicians – who could not suffer the threat that he represented.

*This was a very upsetting and vivid experience and, like most such karmically resonant touchstones, there was no way to get out of it.  Basically, one was being shown how this whole thing had evolved.  END.

Mahatma Gandhi was now being held as the penultimate icon of this future sect of the Hindu faith.  For adherents to violently die was an honour and a coveted way to die.

Since Gandhi had been assassinated, in this future manifestation of Hinduism which seemed also to have been infused with radical, Islamic elements, a violent death by way of suicide was de rigueur.

You could die by way of being sacrificed but, like Mahatma Gandhi, you would be shot.  You would be shot, of course, by initiates of the priesthood which was considered quite the honour.  It was, as a matter of fact, all terribly gruesome.

In this new religious rite, there was a whole progression to being sacrificed.  After one had been executed, by the initiates, one’s violently killed body was then placed on the memorial altar to Mahatma Gandhi.

On the cenotaph, the great martyr’s name was inscribed in large, golden letters.  This then was clearly some 200-plus years after the death of Mahatma Gandhi.

An age, indeed, in which a nationalistic Hindu fervour would sweep through India leaving in its wake a new society.  It would be a religious culture in which there would be semblances to Adolf Hitler’s 1930s Germany in an India easily ten generations into the future.

This seemed very fanatical a place.  There was also much need to keep India thoroughly pure.  Moreover, India was become a Hindu state with no tolerance for either Islam or even Sikhism.

What struck me as peculiar, about it all, was the fact that it was definitely Hindu in essence.  I would, though, have much sooner associated this degree of zealotry coming from the early dawn of the warrior-spirited Sikh community.

However, there was no mistaking that this was definitely a Hindu cultural experience.  Definitely, it was set in India and one which captured the very soul of the community – the present time of 200 years hence.

*Perhaps it all means that I will reincarnate into India, an East Indian, in a future lifetime.  Naturally, I have had several past lives in India to date.

As an older soul, I would gladly welcome yet another life in India knowing full well that like all older souls, I would have positively no use, patience or tolerance for religiosity of any kind.

I think that this militant sect of the noble Hindu faith had arisen because with massive population explosion and an increase of Islamic terror within India, there was inevitable pushback which led to this politicised sect of Hinduism.  The result would be an India that would be kept a purely Hindu state with, perhaps, Sikhism still present but definitely not Islam within its borders.  END.

After the body had been riddled with bullets, they then began pulling it down.  The site was up on a plateau where it was presently dark out.  This was in a mountainous area and it was cool out.

As it was fast-approaching dawn, it was seen as the auspicious time for the ritual to have taken place.  Since the priesthood’s fixation with human sacrifice had grown, on the order of the Spanish Inquisition, the rite in progress was often practiced.

The body was then taken down and cremated.  During the cremation process, devotees were encouraged to go up and pull off pieces of the body.  They would then prostrate themselves making penance to the god Mahatma – Mahatma Gandhi – to seek his mercy and beneficence.

Before the still glowing remains of the cremating body, they would focus whilst praying to Deva Mahatma.  It was also considered more potent, if one showed true devotion, by taking some of the hot coals and energetically rubbing them in the palms.

It was seen as identifying with the ecstatic pain that the Mahatma had endured during his assassination.  I think it will be very interesting to see if, in the future, some sect of Hinduism will be this zealous and hold Mahatma Gandhi as its martyred figurehead.

I, for one, think that this would be so many steps backwards.  Do we really need to see humanity descending into this sort of nihilistic, diversionary, perpetuation of human suffering?

This group Neptunian – escapist – endeavour disguised as something as noble and high an ideal as spirituality, is not though spirituality.  As ever, all things religious are political entities.

There was this one guy there who was supposed to have been, somehow, the reincarnation of Mahatma Gandhi.  Or perhaps, he had been chosen as the astrological heir of the great evolved energies which were Mahatma Gandhi’s.

I was, somehow for being there, expected to go and make love with the chosen one – the heir to Mahatma Gandhi’s birthright.  So, off I went to fulfill my role.

*Alas, yet again, I serve as lover, confidant, companion, advisor and healer of the spirit.  END.

I knew, of course, that this could not have been Merlin in a future lifetime.  Since Merlin was alive during Mahatma Gandhi’s life, there is no way that this supposed reincarnated soul of Gandhi’s could have been Merlin.

Nor for that matter, evolved though he was, would I be so preposterous as to suggest that Merlin was Mahatma Gandhi reincarnated.  Even if Merlin were born after Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination, which he was not, I still would not ever make such an assumption.

This man was very dark-skinned and young.  He turned out to be the most beautiful man imaginable.  His were the most wonderful, large eyes imaginable.  He definitely had a Pisces rising.

Lying on top of him, we were kissing and making love.  We spent a great deal of time in conversation.  He was debating whether or not he felt that he could go on.  Basically, he was not prepared to willingly accept his chosen position in the sect’s iconography.

He said that he felt quite uncomfortable about it all.  I agreed with him and pointed out that it was obviously his karma.  Furthermore, there was no way that he could get out of his duty.

We agreed that there did not seem any way for him to escape this fate of his.  We had at least been humorous about it all.

Somehow though, in the larger context of things, it seemed likely that he would impact history on the order of Christ.  He did feel quite locked into this life.  In that sense, he was rather resigned to it – playing his role.

This man’s eyes were the most old-souled portals imaginable.  The one feature that he did have was that his eyes actually had light emanating from behind them.

Not only did his eyes have this unusual capacity but, next to his richly-melanined, brownish-black skin, they actually were purple.

They were even more so violet-coloured than Elizabeth Taylor’s.  Though hers may be violet, his were a deep royal purple.  Well!  These were unusually large eyes, too, the whites of which were spectacularly white.

These purple eyes seemed to be glowing from within.  To look into those eyes was, quite simply, a cosmic experience of the highest order.  Quite simply his eyes were bewitching.

Additionally, all he ever did was look right into you.  The eyes were the most important of the sensory organs.  For that reason, he did nothing except directly, unflinchingly, gently look into one’s eyes.

This was not like when speaking to a Westerner who looks everywhere but into your eyes.  Such persons look at you and direct their transparently bigoted perceptions one’s way.

This man cared nothing about lookism.  There was absolutely no Maya to him.  He simply represented centredness of being.  He was quite simply a soul in residence and nothing else.

There was no personality, no bullshit and, definitely, no ego.  He was a mind-altering experience onto himself.  Truly a force of the Cosmos was he.

*That was the beauty of this man, unlike the countless gurus of India, he was not a personality.  They are all spiritual celebrities.

They are, for the vast majority though not all, nothing more than charlatans rather adept at deception and masquerading as older souls.  Of course, these charlatans are keen to take advantage of the Western world’s need to romanticise India.  END.

Whilst we spoke, I kept on kissing his mouth, as we made love.  Though he was a robust wiry man, he was immensely passive and all-accepting.

I had a soul, I was a soul incarnate, and this was his reason for making love with me.  He was dancing with my soul.

This was a most intense and vivid experience.  This was simply Zen.

Obviously, I have taken the liberty of using the photo of an historical royal to betray the exquisite beauty of the avatar encountered in this dream.  Perhaps, it was merely about astral projecting into a probable future – one in which the effects of population explosion and sectarian tensions would manifest in a militant sects arising.  Either way, it was trip and a half being in commune with the purple-eyed one.

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Photo: Bollywood actor, Hrithit Roshan.

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© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Tantric Transference With Famous Actor (*Adult Content).

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Astral-projected, this next dream would prove a most lucidly awakened, lyrical adage.  It was a most beautiful drink for the soul.  

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The dream was an encounter with a famous person, on whom I was neither especially focussed – in the waking state – nor about whom I was impressed favourably or otherwise.

These dreams simply unfold and I do not pass judgment either on self or the dreams as they progress.

The dream occurred, on Sunday, June 21, 1992, whilst the Moon on the summer solstice transited both Pisces and my tenth house wherein is posited Chiron retrograde.  It was a most potent dream – shamanic even.

A house sat on a yard that was very West Indian-looking.  It was all dark exposed earth and raw.  As though it had lost all its topsoil, the soil was very hard.  There were lots of these marvellous tropical trees about.

From the front, the garden and house reminded me much of Esmeralda da Braga’s house in Brown Hill, Nevis.  The front garden was filled with an abundant array of cacti most of which were gloriously in bloom.

They were all very tiny plants.  As it was such an arid place, the plants could thrive quite beautifully.  Since it hardly ever rained here, the cacti garden made more sense.  I noticed that there was a hose about the garden.

Then too, I saw that some of the hens-and-chicks cacti were, for lack of water, brown and shrivelling up.  I was saddened by the sight.  I impulsively ran over to try and take care of them.  I knew that they desperately needed the nurturing touch of my caring heart.

The door to the house was opened and afforded one a look inside.  There I saw a woman lying in bed asleep with her head closer to the window.  I could only make out from the crown of her head to the chest.

In the second room, back from the front of the house, she was asleep.  Her head faced to the front of the house.  The house itself was set up exactly like Esmeralda da Braga’s house in Brown Hill, Nevis is.

If it were set in Nevis, then I was on the side of the street and house that is closer to the gut which is also where the garden was.  That means that when facing the house, I was on the right corner of the house looking through a window.  It was a glass-louvred window.

The woman laid there on her back as though she were asleep or, perhaps, even dead.  She was quite dark-skinned and wore a floral-printed dress with some dark tones in it.  As this person was so dark-complected, I thought that it could not have been Esmeralda da Braga.

I carried on with taking care of the garden.  Then after awhile, I came out and went into this wonderful canopied area which was up on a different level on the street.  It was part of the property but in a different section.

It was as though the street in Nevis did not exist because obviously it was not set in Nevis, finally.  I came into the covered area which appeared to be a house.  There I saw a man who was lying on his stomach and seemingly asleep.

His face was down into the pillow thereby only affording me a partial look at this left profile.  He was White but he had such pale skin that he seemed a luminescent tone of actual white.

In addition, his skin was excessively wrinkled.  Goodness, did this man look ancient?  It was as though he were easily several millennia old.  Such a wonderful, soft wise-looking face he had.

As I had entered the space there was a number of these large canvas drapes that were drawn up. It was bright out.  Incidentally, I had never gotten around to picking up the hose and watering the parched cacti because I had come inside to curiously explore.

As I had stepped up the few stone steps, to enter the canopied pavilion, I had noticed that his eyes were opened – at least the left one was.  On hearing my approach, he had closed it and pretended to be asleep.

He laid there wearing a robe that was pastel-coloured with lots of beautiful floral designs in it.  Beneath the beautiful robe, he wore a pair of pyjamas.  Whilst I was there in the room, looking about, he affected a disoriented awakening.

All that I could think of was that on awakening, like most men, he would probably be aroused.  Indeed, he was aroused and seemed not very well-hung.  Nonetheless, I thought that it would be interesting to get it on with a millennia-old individual.

He went off to go pee but when he got from the bed and began walking he resuscitated and started getting younger and younger with each deep laborious breath.  It was, as a matter of fact, quite yogic.

In time, the millennia-old metamorphosed man proved to be the actor Kyng Soale.  Noticing me, he smiled a genuinely friendly, ruggedly handsome closed-lipped smile.  It was a warm greeting.

Instantaneously, the dream became very awakened.

He took a few steps then looked after himself at me and smiled again.  This time his teeth did validate that it was, indeed, the actor Kyng Soale.  He was possessed of the most striking eyes – very magnetic.

This dream experience was very real – an astral plane experience, it definitely was.  I was amazed that he proved to be such an old soul.  Off he went, through the space, to take a pee.  He went through these drapes that were very Oriental in style.

There was lots of gold threading and deep crimson reds.  It seemed to be either in Indonesia, Bali more specifically, or elsewhere.  Very lush and tropical a place this proved.

On the outside chance, it might well have been set on a private island in the Philippines.  Definitely, it did not feel as if set in Tahiti, Fiji or Réunion.

As he went off to pee, I got up from the comfortable, cushioned, dark rattan armchair into which I had earlier slumped.  I had sat there to look at him sleep.  It was a raised house, on stone stilts, much as in the Caribbean.  In addition, it did have a veranda.

On closer inspection, the architectural style was unmistakably Balinese.  The windows here, all wooden, opened out from the bottom.  This was a very richly detail-specific dream.

*On awakening, I am inclined to think that perhaps Kyng Soale is presently vacationing on some secluded Balinese estate recharging his batteries.  END.

This was, I must convey, a very intense dream experience.  There were aspects of his energetics that rather reminded me of Carl Leroiderien’s who, of course, is a mature king soul.

That ruggedness that transcends their handsomeness which reflects aspects of the true mettle of their soul type – that of being a king soul.  This was also a very definite and real experience.  There was astral projection involved in us having encountered each other.

As he entered the room, to go pee in the lavatory, I began walking very slowly and felinely towards him.  We never did utter a single word towards each other.

I walked up on him and inspected him as he peed.  He held his erection upwards, in the air, after he had finished peeing.  He was foreskinned and it was not especially thick a cock but it did have a handsomely large, though not excessively so, head.

I came around to him and held his hand.  At that I turned him around.  We looked into each other’s eyes very soulfully, long and hard.  This was the greatest intimacy imaginable.  We slowly danced soul-to-soul, at which point, he smiled and was clearly pleasured.

I then opened the robe, drawing open the string of his pyjamas letting them drop a bit.  Holding his cock in my hand, I slowly stooped whilst throughout maintaining seductive eye contact.

Looking at it, his cock was now very red.  At that I drew back the foreskin, after he had surrendered it to my hands, and began very slowly to go down on him returning my fixed gaze into his soulful eyes.

Now his cock had looked very different to when I had seen it, from afar, initially.  At the feel of my warm mouth pleasurably caressing him, he let out a long satiated groan.  The taste of him was very real.

I could taste the precum, mixed with the last drops of his loud-smelling pee, in my ravenously hungry mouth.  He encouragingly began grinding his hips letting me pleasure him.  His lids closed shut on losing himself to my sensual touch.

When staying himself, he then began running his fingers through my hair which was out and not gathered in a bun as per usual.  Slowly, very intensely, his strong warrior-like hands began massaging my scalp.  It proved to be the most energising experience.

It was as though he were realigning my chakras’ vibrations.  Indeed, it was very occult – magus – what he was doing whilst I serviced him.

*Of course, this is such a dead giveaway of what this man and I were doing.  It was not about sex anymore than it was about energy transference.  He was a king soul and part of the function, of his role in essence, is to heal and fortify the spirit of other and all souls.

He knew innately that I was attuned and aware of his role in essence.  I was not some stalking fan who was homoerotically obsessed with him.  Truth be told, I have never before been auto-erotically focussed on this man in the waking state.

What we were doing was spiritual work – sex was merely a way of best facilitating that work.  For both of us being in the roles to each other, he was fulfilled and so was I.

There was nothing homoeroticised about the encounter.  It was tantric sex which is all about being spiritually focussed and engaging in energy transference.  END.

“Oh god, yes man…” the actor groaned from time to time.

I, on the other hand, was deliberately soulful about what I was doing for him.  It was not mere cocksucking that I engaged in.

It was as though I used his phallus, to give his entire body and energetics a cleansing massage, much the way that one can affect the same thing in reflexology by way of the feet.

Soon, I had to get up or at least chose to do so because there was a darker-complected-than-not Oriental woman about the house.  She had been approaching us.

Kyng Soale said softly in the most soulfully sonorous voice,

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

Returning indoors from the back veranda, which was canopied and private, we took to the bed where earlier he had been lying.  The bed was close to the window which is how I had initially seen his face, when it was in its natural soul state, which reincarnationally reflected his maturation.

Casually, he dropped all his clothing on the floor and got into bed on his back.  When he settled into the comfortable bed, he drew his legs up giving me a good look at his exposed arse and anus.

The skin around the anus was very plush, swollen and relaxed, suggesting that he loved being anally serviced.  In fact, he laid there in a very passive pose with his face the most relaxed one can imagine of anyone whilst making love.

He had reddish pubic hair.  On raising the brows and smiling at me, he extended his hard-bodied hand to me.  It was more a command than invitation.

I climbed into bed and immediately, on lying in amongst his open arms, it was like when being intimately entangled with Olaf Nordstrom.  This man similarly proved to be possessed of the most exquisitely pronounced feminine principle.  Very sublime, slow and soulful was his vibration.

Whilst looking intently into each other’s eyes, we began kneadingly rubbing our achingly hard cocks slowly against each other’s when frottaging.  This was the first time that I had really been so close to his eyes and they were the most intensely blue with a submerged veneer of greens.

Quite magnetic eyes, too, they were.

Immediately, I thought to myself that he was a king soul.  Very incredibly intense was the fusion between us.  Even if I wanted to, there was no way that I could awaken from this dream.  He vibrationally held me in his presence.

This was not the usual dream experience wherein for getting too physicalised one prematurely awakened.  He had command of the situation and I was his and for as long as he desired.

As it progressed, the whole experience was navigated by his formidable will.  We began smiling at each other.  He then drew my head down and began fucking my mouth with his rough, intensely masculine tongue.

Again, those hands began giving me that deep scalp massage that was, more than not, all about energy work.  This was very much so alive and awakened.

*Interestingly, I have never paid this actor’s looks or career a passing curiosity.  As a matter of fact, the only time that I have seen his work is when Merlin and I went off to see an actress that he liked who appeared in film with him.  At the time, in the first place, it is something that Merlin wanted to do.

Here in the dream, when he had transformed to being youthful, he was a man in his mid-forties which he is not – I don’t think, in the waking state.  I think this is suggesting that he may, in fact, be a king soul and one who is mid to late mature-souled.

Very intense and forceful yet passive, when needed, was he.  He was also on the verge of being silver-haired.

Whilst he peed I had been hypnotised by the sound of his piss hitting the hardened earth, outside the veranda’s window, through which he had been peeing.  END.

As we were writhing and I had penetrated him, there was a noticeable barometric shift whilst I hammered away at him.  As though one were in the midst of monsoon season just after a massive deluge, there was now a heavy humidity in the air.

Whilst we were carnally lost in each other, the Oriental woman had also returned to the house.  She had been calling and looking for him.  In one forceful move he got to his feet taking me with him.

Here too, he was considerably taller than in the waking state he appears to be.  Very martial-bodied, Wotanesque almost was he.  It was as though this mesomorphic, astrally projected body of his was born to wear metallic armour and do battle.

A fierce protector, rather than conqueror, he was.  As I had prematurely slipped from his exquisitely plush anus, there was a sudden energetic surge.

He had pronounced sensory capabilities in the every nerve of his anus.  It would seem that it was so plush because part of the energetic work that he did was all about playing cosmic mother/nurturer/healer, by way of his anus, to transmute the energies of multitudes.

This is why he seemed so much a king soul.  It was as though myself, and countless others, astral-projected to have an audience with him in which he did serious energy work.  Very shamanic indeed was this man and this encounter.

Taking me by the hand, he rushed in through the large compound by another exit into a pavilion.  Here he now wore this incredibly wonderful, elaborate, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful ceremonial robe.

It was very much so in the Oriental style and it looked millennia old.  The robe that he wore was worked with lots of gold threading.  Greens and yellows – very bright and uplifting colours covered the fabric.

Here he was walking in this very large, exposed-beamed wooden hall which was a couple of storeys high to the ceiling.  He was quite simply regal in the true sense of the word because this was only something that one could experience from the level of soul itself.  It could never be affected.

I, for one, was very upset.  Not at the interruption of our lovemaking, rather, the woman was truly livid with us.  She was as if some dragon lady who was truly out to consume us with her fiery fury.

She had shot an arrow from a gold-leafed bow which was held horizontally and shot as if a handgun.  When she shot at us, he affected this stature that instantaneously had him become puffed up into true archetypal warrior stature.

It was nicely affected by the robe’s draping but it was clearly animated by more than the mere fabric.  The robe began to billow now with his, yet again, transformed stature.

He had also grown taller and was now close to just less than seven feet tall.  The arrow became stuck in the robe but it was clear that he had never once been injured by it.

After that, we took flight from the hall.  Hurriedly, we parted with me saying a grateful goodbye.

We paused to knowingly look at each other with eyes directly focussed on each other’s soul.  We warmly smiled.  A very intense and vivid experience this proved.

I knew that he knew that upon awakening, in that look, I would remember the dream experience which was no mere dream.  At that, I took my leave of him by going through a door to my rear.

*I awoke from this and immediately went into the pyramid, where I recorded the dreams on audio-cassette, whilst allowing my energetics to become fully harmonised for having just had the astral plane encounter with Kyng Soale.

This man is clearly a king soul; I would be very surprised if he were not.  Furthermore, as I regard sex as the height of human spirituality, dream sex is always about energy work and high shamanism.

This was not exactly some random stomp through a bathhouse on the astral plane which, of course, can be terribly intense and engrossing.   This is because most such persons encountered during such astral plane sexual rendez-vous tend to be persons who had recently passed of AIDS.

It has been my experience that such persons are just hell-bent on getting some action.  After having been caught wasting away for long months of AIDS, this tends to be the case.

After having recorded the dreams, I grabbed my crystals.  Rather than lube up and indulge in auto-eroticism, I then laid back and meditated for about an hour with beeswax candle and incense going.

Thankfully, the phone was turned off.  Who needs people and their waking state solipsism after such phenomenal astral plane sojourns?  END.

**For obvious reasons, the actor’s name was changed to protect his identity.  I do not know this actor.  Furthermore, I have no idea whether this individual, beyond their public persona, has a same-sexed focus to their physical relations; therefore, it is best to protect that individual’s identity by simply changing his name to that of ‘Kyng Soale’ – this is clearly a way of referring to him as being a King Soul vis-à-vis the Michael Teachings as he definitely was experienced in this dream.  Too, the dream occurred on the summer solstice and it is not the first time that I have encountered a king soul on the astral plane on the summer solstice.  END.  

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Photo: Kimono.

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© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

These Goddamn Humans.

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Whilst the Moon transited Aquarius and my ninth house, it proved the most hysterically luciferous of dreams.  I would on Monday, September 3, 1990 dream the most insightful of dreams which was the first dream that day.  

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I encountered a gibbon, another animal of some sort and a weasel.  Perhaps, if not a weasel, it was a beaver or a groundhog.  A dark brown-coated animal it was.

They were furred animals that could manipulate with their front legs/hand-like paws – all three of these animals.  It was an interesting animal.  I think it may even have been an oversized raccoon.  They were, at night time, on a walled ledge.

When looking at them, the gibbon was on the far right.  This very antsy weasel, or whatever it was, was to the far left.

Across the road, from the animal contestants, was a White woman standing who was conducting a test.  It was like a lottery that was being televised.

It was really a scam because they would ask questions of the animals.  Needless to say, the poor creatures wouldn’t have a clue. They would just sit there very dumbfounded such that it was all a big joke.

The resultant prize, a rather sizeable jackpot, would go up higher.  It was like a motivational thing – maybe one day when it went up so high then one of the animals would finally blurt out the answer.

The question was being posed to the respective furred contestants,

“What did all three species have in common?”

I knew that it had nothing to do with the fact that they each had tails or fur.  Too, it was being asked of different people.  Immediately, I knew the answer and got very excited.

I knew that the correct answer was that they were all carnivores.  I even went and was trying to put in for the creatures.  However, as a human it was unfair of me, I couldn’t intervene.

Alas, as soon as the question was asked down off the wall jumped the little weasel character.  It did not even know the goddamn answer but went greedily running up and making faces.

It excitedly gesticulated and showed off that it had hands that were not unlike a human’s.  The excitable creature began clapping to prove that he was very humanlike.

It was pathetic really.  It was just a greedy, greedy little fucker.

At one point, I looked over my left shoulder back at the gibbon and it rolled its eyes as if to say,

’Really… such a greedy, little fucker.  Why doesn’t he just come back and play dumb like everybody else?’

This was quite the shrewd insight, to have gained, of the animal kingdom’s take on us ofttimes absurdist, fur-depilated bipedal simians.

’Can’t he see how fucked up humans are?  If we did not realise what a mess humans were we’d already be talking ourselves.’

This gibbon had such a regal face.  Whilst it was deliberately being very telepathic, it knew that I was able to discern its thoughts.

That was why I had looked over my shoulder and back in its direction in the first place.  It was so intelligent and so extremely funny.

I was telepathically communicating with these animals.  Finally, I was able to psychically connect with this busy-bodied/mind creature.  I told it that the answer was, in fact, carnivore.

As soon as it learnt this, the creature immediately began panting and gritting its teeth in a masticating manner.  It just got so overly excited that it was really too funny.

It wanted to be the one to get it right but the poor creature just did not know how to verbally communicate it.  I suggested to it that, perhaps, it could write the answer since it couldn’t speak.

So immediately the little pathetic fucker wanted me to teach it how to write… on the spot.  It was so impatient that it began trying to bark – shout – carnivore which just sounded like it was miserably choking on a giant fur ball.

It was so pathetic.  However, this merely proved more entertainment for the humans.  More than that, what was really funny was seeing the way the gibbon was rolling its eyes and being very bored by it all.

The gibbon then telepathically imparted to me,

’I don’t know which is worse, these goddamn humans or this pathetic little creature.’

It was very funny.  There was a great connectedness and dialogue between this gibbon and me.

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Photo: Aged Baboon.

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© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Merlin Shapeshifts.

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Image

So here then a most jarring dream had, on Thursday, January 11, 1990.  This truly disturbing dream occurred whilst the Moon transited both my second house and Cancer.  Of the ones lived that day, it was the fourth dream recalled.

This dream was had less than two months after Merlin’s passing of AIDS and to have found him in a dream, rather unexpectedly, the revivification of life, health and boisterousness was stunningly jarring an experience.  Certainly, when last I had seen him he was within either side of 70lbs.  

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I would then be moving on as if going along the main road of The Alley, Sandy Point, St. Kitts.  There were some persons who were coming out of a large house that was much like Lara Wellesley’s.  However, it was white… it was an off-white, whitewashed, large stone house.

Everyone coming out of there was talking and laughing.  They were getting ready to go to a church somewhere.  They were piling into a minivan that was also white.

I had gone past them.  When coming back from Mount Idle, on the east side of the road by the old bank of the ground floor of Eustace Milne’s childhood home, from behind the minivan coming around between it and the bank building was Merlin.

He was wearing his light blue bandana – bought for him by Noëll, when he was in the hospital towards the end of his life.  He wore very ordinary clothing like he always did.  It was Merlin and he was very healthy.

He saw me at the same time that I saw him.

I was stunned.  I stood there catatonic.  I did not know what to do, and I thought,

‘What are you doing here?’

I was so happy to see him.  I hadn’t dreamt of him in so long.  I simply froze in my tracks.  I just couldn’t bring myself to talk… I just did not know what to say.

I wanted to scream my way out of being paralysed.  There was Merlin the embodiment of renewed vitality, I just couldn’t get over the fact.

He saw me and was momentarily surprised but instinctively he neurotically went into action.  Merlin simply began energetically walking and went up these stairs.

I bolted after him after getting over the added shock of his response.  I was surprised to see him in Sandy Point, St. Kitts.  I was so surprised to see him up and about.

I got up onto this landing after having lost sight of him.  When I got there, on my immediate left was a Chinese woman.  She was just on the cusp of her twenties.

She was wearing what Merlin had been wearing except that she had no pants on.  It was now a dress and the colour of the bandana… she no longer wore the bandana.

I felt so betrayed by this development.  Merlin had camouflaged himself, by shapeshifting, to become a woman.  He had shapeshifted becoming another race and another sex.

Merlin knew that I wouldn’t be able to relate to him thus.  Transformed, he wasn’t the Merlin with whom I was excited to interact.

Thus he became female, a counterpart of his totality, to create the distance between him and the Arvin that he had known.  I did not even look at her/him overlong.

The woman who was in charge of everything, organising the church outing, was not unlike Pannonica Kertész.  I said to her, “I came to get Merlin… to get his things, his bandana…”

“Well you can’t.  You can’t see him.  You have to make a deposit and then you wouldn’t be able to see him until giving the ring deposit back.” or something to that effect.

She had replied very matter-of-factly.  It was as though there had been a pact and somebody had reneged or something to that effect.  I found it most upsetting.

I was completely flabbergasted.

*Of course, Merlin chose to shapeshift in this dream because he wanted to have some distance between the raw emotionalism of the attachments associated with his just completed life.  I thought it interesting that though he had never travelled to the Caribbean of my upbringing, one of the earliest dreams of him on becoming an astral planet habitué found him there and of all places in Sandy Point, St. Kitts – a place he much wanted to visit.  END.

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Photo: Chinese model in A-line dress.

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© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Slaying the Dragons.

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A Dragon Red

The dream in question occurred, on Sunday, June 13, 1993, whilst the Moon transited both Aries and my eleventh house.  The dream deals with having the courage to, ever vigilantly, slay the dragon – the racial predator.  

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Whilst walking along, I happened on a short line of people waiting for something.  In the very back of the line was Johnson Swift – my astrologer.  Looking none-too-stylish, he was decked out in chintzy polyester clothing.

Moving up on him, whilst studying his right profile, I energetically called out his name saying hello.

“Oh hi, how are you?” he was very distancing… as well he can be.

I excitedly told him how pleased that I was to have seen him because, as a result of our rendez-vous, my trip to Washington D.C. went quite well.  I told him that I was just wrapping up my trip after having dashed up to Manhattan.

I also told him that I decided not to let any of this stuff, my breakup with Gustavo Vadim, get to me.

“I did do the bigger thing by removing myself from it.  Instead of staying there, I went off to New York where I ended up having a really good time.

“So anyway, now I’m about to head back to Washington D.C. to catch my flight back to Toronto.

“I’m really, really glad that I saw you.  It quite helped…”

“Well, good… good.  It’s quite good to hear.”

Seeing that he was intent on ignoring me, I abruptly took my leave of him.  We had been outside on a narrow road that seemed set somewhere in an Old World country.

*In the waking state, I had changed my original flight itinerary from Washington D.C. to Toronto, instead to from LaGuardia to Toronto after heading for Babylon from Washington D.C.  After leaving Gustavo and all that dross behind, I had no desire to return to Washington D.C. anytime soon.  END.

The second dream had me arriving in an open area where I noticed lots of Black persons around.  Men and women, for the most part, they did seem to be African-Americans.

They did have guns which they used in the rapid exchange of gunfire.  I never did personally feel in danger since none of this violence had been directed my way.

I knew that I did, nonetheless, have to protect myself.  After having decided that this was not a place where I would want to be, either in the waking state or here in the dreamtime, I desperately made my way from there.

Soon enough, these extremely large doglike creatures came on the scene.  They were dark-brown-to-black in colour.  Two of them, however, were red.

They were as if astral plane projections of souls who wanted to shift their appearances so as to appear noticeable yet unrecognisable.  There was simply no way to get around the fact that these were intelligent creatures of reason.

One of the creatures leapt from where it was, unprovoked, and launched into a harrowing attack of a group of kids.  The children had been playing by themselves nearby, however, they were not disturbing anyone either.

Infuriated, I leapt onto the creature without a moment’s hesitation and proceeded to beat and kick it.  I ripped at it trying to pry it off the children in coming to their defence.

I was quite the warrior-spirited taskmaster when coming to the aid of the vulnerable children.  I was not to be messed with; mine was a real maternal instinct.

My response was much as one would expect of a mother in defence of her newborn.  With a longer neck than normally any dog’s neck would be, the creature seemed to be a dragon.

It was most bizarre and aggressive.  A ferocious, deadly creature it was.  At the time, the child being mauled was White – his race ultimately was a non sequitur.  We were both human; I had been a child once and just as vulnerable.

The child – humankind – had done nothing to provoke this attack and for that I would kill this beast using sheer force of will.  These beautiful children, who had been recently loved and now reincarnated to make their way in the world, needed me.

No one deserved to have their futures interfered with like this and for that I was a frightening foe.  Whilst struggling with the groaning creature, I noticed another across the way.  Whilst seated there, it was being very manipulative.

I intuitively knew that much of what transpired between the creature and me, with whom I struggled, was being directed by the other dragon-like creature across the piazza.  Grabbing a sharpened pair of shears that were nearby, I hurled it through the air at the one engaged in mind games.

My will fiercely focussed on the pair of shears, I directed it through the air with increasing speeds.  Before the red dragon-like creature could even react, the shears as intended had stabbed it in the chest which like the rest of the body was covered in an inch-long fur.

My rage still directed on the creature, I caused the shears to rip down its chest.  Instantaneously, it began gushing blood everywhere.  The creature acted as any stunned creature of reason would: it suddenly became terrified at the realisation that it was going to die.

Terrified, it began protesting, its waning breath struggling in the throes of death.

Some of the Black persons, who were all armed, came over at this point.  Much to my surprise, they were genuinely upset.  They were so enraged that they started heading for me because I had attacked the creatures with which they were clearly aligned.

Whilst still struggling with the creature beneath me, I gutturally shuddered and swept my arm at them sending them a massive wave of impenetrable energy.

The invisible wave of light energies swept over them and stunned them in their tracks.  After momentary paralysis, they came to and cowered and thereafter took noisy flight from the open square.

In one last violent move, I impatiently grabbed the creature beneath me by its neck.  With a vexed shudder, I sent the predator beneath my enraged body hurling through the air.

It crumpled to the ground.  It was close to where the other, whose chest I had magically ripped open with the shears directed across the way, which now lay quite dead.

Looking down at the child, a dark-haired boy, I sent him a ton of energies knowing that he would be alright.  He did just then, looking pretty much like a ragdoll, simply spring to life as a result of my transference to him of loving, healing, light energies.

Drained and infuriated, I turned and walked away.  I simply did not want to be a part of a dream which had such dark and violent magus energies about it.  I don’t like energies like these.

This was no way to be focussing my magus energies.  Resolved about my role in the matter, I kept on walking away never looking back.

*The one consolation was in knowing that the children would be protected from harm.  Indeed, those who had fiercely loved them and lost them in their former lives had their prayers of their loved one’s safety in the beyond protected.

Of course, this was a future which included their current lifetimes and therefore the immediate future lifetime for their loved ones left behind  END.

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Photo:  Phantasm Books Phantasmbooks.wordpress.com

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© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.