In early February, 1994 I moved to Vancouver from Toronto; it had always been my intention to do so. Chiefly, I did so because as an art collector, of Inuit and First Nations art, it was easy choice. Unlike Toronto, I could pay less for the same art and attend multiple pow wows in summertime. This exactly is what I did that first summer. Here, then is a suite of dreams had on Friday, February 25, 1994 whilst the Moon then transited Virgo. At the time as my West End apartment was being custom painted, I was staying at the home of Kenneth Baulk and Les Karpinski. The former was the heir of a string of southern Ontario local newspapers, whom I don’t believe ever worked a day in his charmed life – an extraordinarily beautiful human. Les, of course, by his surname was Polish nobility. He was the chief librarian at the University of British Columbia and was prominent in Vancouver choral societies. We loved going to the symphony and opera together.
Dream one. I saw a skier in a white suit; he was considerably tall and skeletal. Off to my right and across the street, there was a ski lift chair behind him. There was a manmade ski jump mountain behind him, as he stood there holding his skis in both hands. He wore a dark-visored helmet such that one could never directly see his eyes or face. Instinctively, I knew that one of the reasons for the disguising helmet was the fact that this man was not natively human.
He was a cool calculating individual. This man stood there, with a deadly gaze fixed on me. I knew, too, that his right ski was in fact, a marvellously camouflaged weapon. He was telepathically sizing me up. There was nothing that one could do to prevent him from entering the mind. Besides, it made more sense to be submissive rather than allow him to become impatient and possibly violent.
I kept on moving pretending, by response to his being there, that he was yet another human and not a threat. Nonetheless, with lightning speed, I instantaneously flashed a ray gun which I carried and shot him with three quick bolts of lightning-blue rays of light. Simultaneously, I made my body pure white light and left the scene thusly without him being able to retaliate. He was completely stunned. Tall and angular, he looked of Nordic stock. I knew, though, that beneath that helmet his face was not going to be the most human of faces.
“No thank you,” I thought, I had no desire to be manipulated or coerced so sought to defend myself – he did after all enter my mind uninvited.
Dream two. I would then come across a very badly beaten up, forklift driver, of whom I was passingly acquainted in Toronto – he was a neighbour in the Beaches. He was outside of red double doors, which had glass panels in them. They led into an industrial plant that was fairly large, seemed more so like a car manufacturing plant, than anything else. Laying on the floor, he was quite badly beaten up. He was in a dazed stupor for having been so badly beaten up.
There were several broken bones in his face. Black-eyed and bruised, truth be told, he was quite a mess. He was ungainly trying to get up but was much too winded to have successfully managed it. Sheer survival demanded that he struggle his way to his feet. On getting to the door before him, I progressed inside, where I saw that there were lots of coat racks, some four feet across from the red double doors.
These racks, which were to the right of the entrance, had lots of dark, heavy-looking winter coats. On the left were lots of machinery – mostly computers. Several tracks were on the floor, in this very large place, where motorised carts could take processed goods from one place to another. To the left, and beyond the machinery, Nathan Milhaus, who is Black, came and stood there, barring my entrance any further.
Blocking me from progressing any further, his arms were outstretched. He told me that I was not to go any further and insisted that I go back. Taking him at his word, I turned back and headed through the red double doors.
Dream three. Next, I found myself at nighttime in a high-rise. It looked due south, towards and beyond the Burrard Inlet towards the West End. It also looked beyond to Vancouver proper, with Kitsilano, Jericho Beach, Point Grey, and Spanish Bay area clearly in sight. My vantage point was that of being on Sentinel Hill in West Vancouver, right about where Mars Cruickshank’s house sits. I stood out on a large-enough balcony where it was dark out.
Here, there was that beautiful grey light, which nourishingly overwhelms. There was perpetual light rain, which does more to soothe the spirit than not. Below was an immense cruise ship, with its stern closer to my north shore location; I was up on the tenth or more storey of the high-rise. It was quite a broad ship that was at least eight storeys above the main deck.
But more than that, the great beauty was Stanley Park, a beacon of enriched negative ions, which simply recharged my energies for looking at it. It was quite soulful indeed. My perspective was such for being up on Sentinel Hill, that I felt as though hovering in a flying dream.
Dream four. Later on, I’d watch as some speed skaters would get into a scuffle. They were racing on a short track. The result of the mix up was that one of the Canadian skaters went crashing into the boards, suffering massive head and spinal injuries; another reason why I never look at episodic television.
*To the say the least, this bit of dream activity was inspired by the fact that at present the Winter Olympics in Norway, have been part of my recent waking state experiences. I’ve been quite moved by Oksana Bayul’s artistic beauty and her great lyricism. She’s a real Russian swan; though she could evolve into a real caricature, if she’s not careful.
Let’s hope though that she doesn’t. END.
Dream five. I was acutely aware that I was laying here in bed at Mars Cruickshank’s Sentinel Hill home, which is where I had slept after dinner and prior to heading into work. Though I tried to sleep, I was being kept in between states, the waking and dream states, by a massively excruciating pressure at both temples. The cosmic hum was excruciatingly amplified, becoming almost nerve-rackingly paralysing. The crisis for me began as the pitch’s octave began increasing higher and higher, to the point of being arrestingly explosive.
I felt truly as if I were about to experience a catastrophic aneurysm. Soon I began experiencing Time itself slowing down. It simultaneously was the most amazing revelation and experience. My motor control at this point warped to a near grinding halt, as I now experienced everything in perfect slow-motion. Next, I began slowly experiencing the elongation of my skull in an upwards direction. I felt as though my skull was becoming not unlike that of Akhenaten – the monotheistic heretic pharaoh and, of course, spouse of Nefertiti’s.
My head became conical; indeed, my head was now egg-shaped. I had a pointed skull as the cosmic hum’s frequency slowly escalated to greater and greater octaves which, until now in this dream, I had never thought possible. There was no getting around the fact that there was a definite physical intrusion into my skull, which the escalating frequency affected. One of the other interesting things, too, was that I had no sense of place here. There was a distinct impression of these beings – of presences being about the room. In place of the wall at the head of the bed, where I slept in Mars Cruickshank’s ground floor, there were definitely three beings.
Somehow, it seemed that I was simultaneously in another room, where the bed’s head was located some four feet from the wall, unlike in the waking state. The only way that I can describe what was being done to me was that these three beings were serving as facilitators, as I was being birthed. More to the point, I was being operated on, as my head and spine became warped and slowly elongated. I was definitely in traction, while my spine was being slowly stretched. This was the most excruciating sensation and, as a matter of fact, I did so feel cetacean-like. It was as if I lost my sense of humanity, for having had my spine so elongated.
As it were, I had become as if very serpentine. In a bid to end the maelstrom, of what I was undergoing, I decided to try and get up; my intention was to, as it were, leave the operating table. I just wanted to move but first, in a bid to make out these beings, I wanted to throw open my lids and look about the room. Willing myself up and opening my eyes was no light affair. I did, though, manage it. As I got up, my vision returned with me finding that I was now in a large room alone and on a bed. There were large stone columns that ran along the length of the bed; the room’s walls were a vibrant yellow.
The shape of the room was oval; too, there was no discernible break in floor to walls to ceiling and the entire thing was the same invigorating yellow. This was a most soothing, healing yellow. A most beautiful, radiant, almost Zen manifestation, of what this colour represented, this was. Quite simply, this was something, which cannot be adequately put into words. Being here, inside this womblike room, was like a little bit of nirvana encapsulated, in which I felt that I was being birthed. The most interesting thing about the walls was that they were, in some way, alive. They hummed and gave off a most soothing frequency which, after the excruciating pain of what I had come through, was a drink of pure light for the soul itself.
Then I noticed that there was a splattered glob of pink organic matter on the column which was parallel to the left foot of the bed. The glob was some 6.5 feet up the column and was about three feet square. As I tried sitting up, all the way, it became obvious that my body was still partially motor-paralysed. It seemed as if I was trying to pick up a body, which now no longer weighed 130 lbs. but 320 lbs. instead. Still there was an aspect of my awakening; as though I were snaking slowly out of a leaden body, as if a cicada abandoning the shell of its former self. I went to turn around, so that I could get a look at the presences at the head of the bed but was impeded. Instead, I was forced back down into my leaden body.
There was no mistaking the fact that they were using their minds to will me back into submission. Using their combined efforts to overpower me, they were thinking as one. Quite frankly, I was not supposed to have seen who they were. I did, though, have a sense that they were high beings or extra-humans. I think in this case, however, what one would assume to be EHs are in fact souls in their discarnate states. So alien is the soul sans body that we’re left to conclude that it is indeed extra-human. There was a distinct impression that all of this was taking place, as a result of a warping of dimensions, which enabled the astral and physical planes to co-exist.
With that, my vision of the yellow room was lost and I was left to experience an onflow of the cosmic pitch again. This time when it began escalating to the point of being unbearable, I awoke almost instantaneously. It was more so as if, I’d been willed awake, that is to say that the three beings in that room elsewhere, had sent me back hurriedly into wakefulness, here in the safety of the physical plane. My willfulness was so taxing on them that they had had to cut short their observation of me, returning me to the safety of my senses. The yellow-walled room was a massive place, wherein more than 75% of the room lay before me beyond the foot of the bed.
*Interestingly enough, I’ve never slept before in this house – Mars Cruickshank’s. In addition, there is a large rock, on which much of the house sits, and instinctively on seeing it, I had a strong psychic reaction to it. I had the sense of it that the hidden part of the rock which progressed down into the Earth was easily fifty times larger; in that sense it was much like an iceberg whose below surface mass is infinitely more voluminous. There was a strong vibrational register to this rock, and I had a sense of it that it contained some life-force, as if it were a camouflage for some sort of life-force which was in an observation mode.
Alas, why pray tell could this not be the case? What better way than for EHs to come planet side, remaining camouflaged such that they are rendered imperceptible. What better way to achieve this end, than for them to be ensconced in large rocks, most of which lay buried below the surface and for those which do break the surface, the greater parts of their area being hidden below the surface.
In any event, I had a strong impression of the rock at Mars Cruickshank’s that it was much larger below the surface of the ground and served as a beacon-cum-conduit. Within the protective shell of this innocent-looking dense medium, were hidden EHs who were here on Earth observing humans in their natural state as opposed to humanity after so-called ‘Contact’. A very intriguing thought, but this was definitely the sense impression that I got of this entire experience. Too, I’m inclined to believe this, because in the initial dream, the exceptionally tall, helmeted, unusually skinny white-suited skier was clearly not human.
There was something different about him vibrationally, which his hiding behind the ski helmet only made that much more discernible to an astutely attuned extra-sensitive mind, such as mine. For being awakened in the dreamtime, I was able to completely tune in to what was going on here in Vancouver in the waking state, albeit clandestine. His cool calculation of me suggested that he’d become aware of my knowing his true identity, which undoubtedly meant that he’d possibly have apprehended or even killed me.
For that reason, I would strike the first blow, as it were. Clearly, I’d only have to encounter his kind later on, when I was subjected to this excruciating mind probe, observation. Was the pink glob some matter, which they exorcised from me, it seemed to have been violently expunged from me. After all, there was no one else remotely human in the room but me. I thought that the exorcised pink glob was from me, as it could not have been something that they’d put there. Was it something from my corporeal or ethereal body, which they’d detected and removed?
In that sense, these spiritual beings served as psychic surgeons. This is not to say that they were necessarily therefore EHs, though one cannot exclusively rule this out. But I’m definitely inclined to think that they were definitely extra-human in origin. Here was I, a newcomer to this part of the world, where if there are EHs stationed, they’d need to take a look at me, as it were. Knowing as they do that I can ‘See’ beyond the veil, all the more reason to seek me out and perform some sort of psychic surgery that would render me ignorant of their being ‘there’.
Of course, if this were indeed the case, that is, were there EHs among us, across whose path I’d crossed, their efforts to wipe the knowledge of the ‘Contact’ free of my recall was unsuccessful. Then too, this could well have been nothing so outré, but rather the experience of being in the company of astral plane-focused high beings, who were performing some form of healing spiritual, cleansing energy work on me. Frankly, the sceptic in me would sooner come down on the side of the most likely, than opting for the fanciful, EHs notwithstanding. Occam’s razor is the mean in this circumstance.
I must say though that on awakening here in this room, where I’d never slept before, I was quite surprised to find that its walls were not indeed yellow. -In addition, I must point out that on awakening all the electrical discomfiture, which has plagued me since moving here to Vancouver was totally, as if evaporated. The purpose of the experience was seemingly to have cleared my energetic body of all blocking, which was symbolised by the massive pink glob that was splattered on one of massive columns in the room.
All the pain in my neck, through to the left arm, has dissipated. Naturally, I’ve been concerned as to whether this is cardiovascular in origin but have been repeatedly assured by EKGs that my heart checks out perfectly fine. This is a real acute, stabbing pain, which seems to be triggered by where I am in this city. I’ve noticed that for going on long walks alone, in Stanley Park the tension becomes completely dissipated.
There seem though, still some areas of intense electromagnetic tensions, which my finely tuned body innately picks up on. Adversely, it does have the tendency in this case to be of a wearing nature physically. I’ve never experienced such excruciating pain. There are, of course, moments of relief, when taking to the pyramid, but then I noticed that shortly thereafter, I become as if totally electrified. These mountains – coastal mountains, I fear, contain a great buildup of electromagnetic tension. Too, they just might in conjunction with the waters of the Pacific be the location of a giant Extra-Oceanic colony or colonies of extra-humans of one or more species.
**Indeed, the more that I think about the dreams that I had while living in Vancouver, I’m inclined to believe that this dream was extra-human in origin, rather than being about high astral plane beings. END.
Rollins, Sonny 7/9/1930<O>25/5/2026
Michael: This fragment was a seventh-level mature artisan –third life thereat and likely last. Sonny is in the passion mode with a goal of unmitigated growth. A realist, he is in the moving part of intellectual centre.
Body type was Venus/Mars.
Sonny’s primary chief feature is greed fixated on accomplishment and the secondary stubbornness.
The fragment Sonny is fourth-cast in the fourth cadence; he is a member of greater cadence five. Sonny’s entity is seven, cadre four, greater cadre 1, pod 129.
Sonny’s essence twin is an artisan and the task companion is a sage known to him.
Sonny’s three primary needs are: communion, expression and power.
Sonny has been a musician in 12 past lives.
There are 8 past-life associations with Arvin and 14 with Merlin.
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Two rats during the course of eighteen months produce one million offspring. You’ve long transcended being a cultural infestation; you are a fucking plague and Karma, that most vicious of cunts, will yet dispense with you!
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©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.
Dreams are the poetic expression of the soul. 