When Things Don’t Go to Plan.

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Just another hotel that looks onto Bloomsbury’s Russell Square. 

Monday morning, November 12, 2018 rolled around with me being a bit on the antsy side.  Just a couple of days before leaving on the trip, I received an email notice that a talk and drinks scheduled for that evening at Spencer House had been cancelled.  That being the case, I emailed, called and prevailed on each day Ronnie Scott’s Jazz club in Soho to try and get my reserved seat for the Tuesday evening show, moved up to Monday evening instead. 

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Finally, the night before, I got a human rather than no voicemail or no email replies from Ronnie Scott’s.  Incredibly, the rep did not know the number for box office and let me know that the Monday show was booked and I could not change my itinerary.  Trying to reason with her proved a nonstarter.  If I could be missing for my reservation on Tuesday, so too could someone booked on Monday be missing which means that I could at the very least stand in the back of the club and sip on a drip.  Nothing doing.  Monday came and passed and not box office nor anyone ever once answered the phone.  

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One of my favourite journeys when in London is to get to Piccadilly Circus and head towards Burlington House.  There, one is always going to be wowed by great art – this trip certainly delivered,  

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This, without doubt, is the show that I came to London highly anticipating.  What I had not anticipated was the sheer scope of the exhibition.   Certainly, it was a welcome change after paying to move through the Klimt / Schiele exhibition.  One thing that struck me, which always occurs regardless which museum or which continent, whenever there is an exhibition of non-white art alongside another of white art, the latter is patronised by a ratio of three to one,  

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Franz Hauer 1914  Egon Schiele

To be sure, the space for the Klimt / Schiele was much smaller than the ten salons for the Oceania exhibition – the same salons in fact which were used for last winter’s, Charles I: King and Collector.  Indeed, there is a certain appeal about being able to view art this up close and intimately.  Nonetheless, the crowd here was predominantly older – the diapered set and they of course can be expected to have little relish for adventuring beyond that which is deemed art or superior.  

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Nude Self-Portrait 1916 Egon Schiele. 

Naturally, not having read up on the exhibition prior to arriving in London, I had assumed that it would be paintings of both artists in the exhibition.  As it turned out, my weak vision could not fully appreciate these drawings and the cramped quarters was no good for my usual wariness of crowds.  

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Female Bust,1916 Gustav Klimt.  

Thoroughly underwhelmed more than not, I made my way in search of the Oceania exhibition.  Imagine having made that treacherous trek all the way up those potentially slippery metallic stairs, only to have been left none-too-inspired.  Oh well, too many old fossils in too tight a space pour moi-meme.  

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Straight away, I was soothed, uplifted and engrossed by the fecund richness of the blue-interiored salons.  Where months prior were hung van Dycks, Rubens and a most memorable Tintoretto, now into these large magical ten salons, I slipped lucidly awakened with wonder.  

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Here, in this marvellous exhibition, the worlds of dreams and spirit were fully realised.  I was in awe, inspired and fully engaged for moving through, as though in a lucid dream, salon after salon of this mammoth, breathtakingly beautiful exhibition.  

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Papuan soul canoe.

Steeped in animism and ancestor-worship, these beautiful cultures of the South Pacific (Oceania) speak to me.  Naturally, much of this is due to strong resonance, owing to past-live memories.    

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What I found rather interesting about this exhibition, is how locals reacted to the art and artefacts on display.  They were actually deferential, which is worlds removed from the usual open ridicule and vile remarks made by persons when touring the Barbara and Murray Frum African Art Collection at Toronto’s AGO (Art Gallery of Ontario).  Indeed, days later, I would be reminded of how archly racist Canadians currently are and with a smugness that defies reason.  

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This exhibition is handsomely curated and the show was staged with the greatest sensitivity and respect for the cultures represented.  Rather refreshing an approach.  

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Marvellous.  Powerful and so like the totemic masks of West African cultures.  

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I especially loved this sculpture and found it vibrationally rather powerful.  

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Sublime.  

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My attempts at capturing this marvellous piece proved frustrating as a German couple who were close by were slow to move along; my impatience is of course legendary.  

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Beautiful textiles featured in the exhibition,  

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Positively love this Papuan mask.  

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Star map for navigating the seas of Oceania’s cultures.  

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August.  Regal.  There is something deeply astral about the cultures of Oceania; these are cultures which are firmly grounded in the worlds of dreams and spirit… indeed.  

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Wow!  This is what I came hunting for; I was most definitely greatly inspired.  What past-life dreams are yet to be triggered by this lucidly awakened journey through Oceania and my own reincarnational past.  

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Hands down, this was my favourite piece in the exhibition; it seemed like some interdimensional craft for travelling between distant worlds and galaxies as is only now possible in dreams.  The lines are so amazingly elegant and masterfully executed.  Phenomenal.  

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What a wonderfully uplifting exhibition!  Bravo!  

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The view on exiting the Royal Academy’s Burlington House.  

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Just look at the view across Piccadilly from the Royal Academy…  Fortnum & Mason.  Well, off we go for some retail therapy; on crossing the street, I delightfully hummed the most memorable melody from La Bayadère.  

Oh look, way below that famous Fortnum & Mason blue beckons.  For now though, I made another feverish perusal of my email.  There is nothing from Ronnie Scott’s and the hotel has emailed to say that they have not received word from them nor have they called back.  

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A gourmand’s wet dream.  

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Art whilst shopping… truly civilised.  

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A trip to the basement and my favourite Jamaican clerk was not on duty.  I did though meet a lovely, lively West African who much reminded me of the spirited gardener in the dreams of July 9, 1993, which proved one of the most beautiful yet of this incarnation wherein I travelled and had the most lucid astral plane dream encounter with Merlin in the afterlife – it will appear in the sixth and final volume of my dream memoirs of Merlin and me, Merlin and Arvin: A Shamanic Dream Odyssey, which will prove human civilisation’s first dream memoirs when fully published.  20181112_124934

Thanks to the West African clerk and how beautifully she spoke of Canada’s Weston family, who own Fortnum & Mason, I was sold.  To hell with dropping money at Ronnie Scott’s when they could not be bothered to accommodate me.  With that, I had a couple of signed copies of Tom Parker-Bowles’ recently published cookbook, Fortnum & Mason Christmas.  For good measure, it is always good to have wonderful fragrances.  

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On getting outside, whilst prowling Piccadilly in search of the Herrick Gallery in Mayfair where a Nevisian artist was having an exhibition, the skies opened up and delivered a monsoon deluge, which readily reminded that this truly was the age of climate change.  The Herrick Gallery was a beautiful affair; however, I had arrived a day early so there was nothing to see as large canvases were being unwrapped and hung.  Getting into Green Park Station, I ducked in to use the toilet and was reminded of 28 years earlier, when you didn’t then have to pay to use the facilities.  That day, in the heat that was London in July, an old, homeless black woman sat on one of the toilets in a stall, which like all the others had no door affording privacy.  She seemed utterly otherworldly and just as removed.  Certainly, she was impervious to the bacchanalia afoot; a tall East African with the most massive cock to that point seen, was actually charging various denominations based on what the throng of near-ululating size queens were prepared to do to that unrivalled wunder schmekelof his.

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Onward, the journey continued.  The next stop was Westminster Station where my main focus was touring the exquisite architectural gem that is the Lady Chapel at Westminster Abbey.  Built by King Henry VII as Lady Chapel and deemed as the ode to the Virgin Mother, I rather suspect though that the Lady in question is his mother, Margaret Beaufort.  Hers is the only effigy that is not marble but distinctive bronze. 

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(Though photography is not permitted, I managed rather skilfully to have captured a shot of Lady Margaret Beaufort’s bronze-effigied tomb whilst in the spectacular Lady Chapel at Westminster Abbey)

Of course, that soul is now incarnate and though the most reviled black woman on the planet at present, I have every conviction that Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex will just as nobly distinguish herself as when a key figure during the War of the Roses, mother of King Henry VII, grandmother of King Henry VIII after whose coronation she died days later, and great-grandmother of Queen Elizabeth I.  She who founded Christ’s College and St. John’s College at Cambridge University and for whom Oxford University’s first college to admit women, Lady Margaret Hall is named.  Indeed, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex has been a feminist for some time.  

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A lone shot of Westminster Abbey from the quire, looking to the altar before being approached by security and asked to cease doing so.  Before departing I took the time to pause at the three wreaths in the stalls of Lady Chapel, which is the spiritual home of the Order of Bath.  In recent months, three knights of the order had passed.  

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The view from the Cloisters from Westminster Abbey, to the courtyard fountain and the grandeur of Palace of Westminster’s Victoria Tower to the rear.  It was also a chance to wait out the downpours.  

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Excitedly the dash back from Westminster Abbey to Westminster Station on the Circle Line was one filled with giggles as I tried to avoid being dowsed by puddles as traffic sped past.  Next stop, Mansion House which eventually led to a break in the rains as I emerged from the Underground.  

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Look at that, the monsoon had eased up and there was even sunlight trammelling the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral.  Always, it is good to mount the steps to this grand shrine.  

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As it is the season of Remembrance, it was time to pause and pay homage at the tomb of Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson whom both Merlin and I knew in our past lives in London when musicians at court during the reign of HM King George III and the Regency of HM King George IV.  

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The Earl Jellicoe. Admiral of the Fleet.  Love that there are actual poppies on his tomb.  

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Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington.

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One of the sights whilst ambling after yet another tour of St. Paul’s Cathedral.  

With that, it was back on the Underground and a return to Bloomsbury, where dinner and dream-filled sleep awaited.  

As ever, dream as though every moment is a dream memory of a past life (this one) for you in a future incarnation.  See it, experience it fully – without bias – appreciate it and be richly inspired by it.  Again, I can never say enough how deeply appreciative I am for your ongoing support.  

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©2013-2025 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.  

Into the Blue.

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There are dreams that transcend the merely mundane and, as such, they properly throw into perspective what is and what is not important.  In the long run, this dream makes all the Maya in the waking state but a silly distraction.

In the larger scheme of things, all the things that we become focussed on overlong are truly irrelevant.  What we don’t see and what is not readily discernible are infinitely more important than not.

This dream of intense astral plane focus occurred on Saturday, August 10, 1991.  At the time of the dream, which was the third and final one that day, the Moon transited both Leo and my third house.

Dreams such as this one definitely are a departure from the norm.  They do betray the very real fact that there is more beyond the veil than we are prepared to acknowledge.  

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I was, in this the third and final dream, in the lobby of a wonderful modern skyscraper.  It was not especially large a skyscraper.  In fact, it reminded me a great deal of that skyscraper at the south-eastern corner of Queen and Yonge Streets.

The copper-toned, glass tower that’s thirty storeys, if that much, is the one in question.  I was in the lobby waiting for the elevator.  Some persons had gotten onto the elevator but I was still waiting.

There was then some sort of an emergency and the police showed up, as did the Fire department and the Ambulance service.  Whilst these professionals tried to figure out where the problem was, this then meant that we had to be waiting around.

Somewhere in the building, there was something untoward going down.  We, the innocent bystanders, were briefed and told that we couldn’t leave the building.  There were lots of people gathering outside.

Assuming that it was just a regular fire alarm, set off as a prank, we also saw no reason to go out of the building.  However, I then realised that the fire alarm system was not going off.

It was quite interesting because people began running.  There was something wrong, so I assumed that there was someone on a rampage with a gun in the building.

Immediately, getting my wits about me, I decided that I had to take care of myself.  Whilst investigating, I began moving around the place.  Too, I noticed that people were being zapped, it was most bizarre.  I witnessed two or three people who for no particular reason were just zapped.

Basically, there would be a flash of blue light from an elevator.  The elevator door would open, filled with a bright light, whilst from the lighted elevator the blue light would shoot out.  It was laser-like and readily zapped persons in the vicinity.

Immediately, people grew fearful on seeing this.  Right away, there was pandemonium in the place.  I was with the crowd of people and knew that it was not wise to follow the herd.  With that, I went around the central column that housed the skyscraper’s elevator shafts.

In this way, I fled seeking to protect myself.  I had noticed that the people were being zapped by way of the security system.  The oscillating, silver security cameras, which were up in the corners of the building, had a wide firing range as they turned.

In fact, it was not a blue light that was flashing; instead, it was done by microwave.  So you couldn’t see this.  Nonetheless, I was told this by James Tramble’s trusty voice.

It was, just then, pointing down at the ground in my direction.  I decided that I knew what I had to do.  At that, I levitated and went up to the ceiling of the lobby.

Knowing that the cameras did not tilt upwards, they would therefore not be able to direct their deadly microwave beams at me.  However, someone came around the way.

He was part of the whole operation of indiscriminately killing innocent human beings.  I did not even need James’s guidance here; you just knew that he wasn’t human – he was extra-human.

He wore a red shirt.  The man just looked like an automaton.  There was something about him that was not with-it.  He may even have been White, however, their humanity was all disguise.

Regardless the race, he was not one of us.  In spite of human racialism, in a jam like this, we were all frigging one – human.  This droid clearly was not, human, one of us.

His task was to capture persons who could possibly get away, that is, from the reach of the microwave emitters.  He was to facilitate the success of the whole operation.

I levitated above him but he saw me.  He stood there for a moment, as if doing some serious computations, after which he made a gesture.  He was alone but I soon realised that these people had the capacity to hypnotise their subjects by looking at them.

I thought then that I was not going to be captured or annihilated by these people one bit.  At that, on effortlessly going up through the ceiling, I began to flee from the scene by further levitating.

Sure enough, without incident, I was able to penetrate the ceiling.  Next, the building’s hidden infrastructure of pipes, beams and cabling, dropped by as I cleared the floor en route to the next storeys.

Without incident, I rose upwards clearing the floor.  On looking down at my feet, I continued levitating until my feet were fully free of the stone floor.

I was now on a narrow stairwell.  As the building craned upwards, it was a staircase that had a single banister that kept going around and around.

There were little landings, all the way up, as you circled upwards with three landings between each floor.  It was quite beautiful, in fact.  I was frantically running up and saw that he was coming after me.

On seeing him enter the stairwell, I was certain that he was following me.  In my bid to outdistance him, I was about four storeys ahead of him.

I thought that no matter what, I had to get to the top of this building.  Luckily, it was not 60 to 80 storeys tall.  Somehow, I would just have to escape.

Yet every time I would go around a corner, I had stopped on realising that it was more than likely a form of entrapment.  It was fairly obvious that the security system was headquartered at the top of the building.

Thus it made little sense to be rushing up there.  Something was definitely off about his approach.  I soon realised that you couldn’t really see him running around the stairwell.

He was always in the same spot on the landing.  As I ran around like some mad hamster on a treadmill, he was now one floor below me.

It was then that I realised that just as I had earlier come through the ceiling from the lobby, to the next storey above, so too was the automaton levitating and penetrating the structure of the stairwell.

He was confident in his hunt to capture me.  Clearly, I was not getting anywhere with this approach.  Victory was clearly his.  As I had, the lobby and second storey, he was smartly moving between the landings.

Instead, he levitated upstairs by passing through the concrete of the stairwell.  Had he levitated in the open well of the stairwell, I would have seen him and caught on to what he was up to.

No heap of metal him.  I thought,

‘Enough of this fear-based irrational behaviour, I am simply going to leap out a window and make this a flying dream.’

This seemed like a sure way of ridding myself of this nuisance.  I got to the window and, when looking out, I was surprised at how high up I actually was.

You could see a body of water which was unusually blue.  As though a dense fog that strangely hung very low to the ground, there was a great deal of cloud cover.

I was certainly high up enough to be above much of this cloud cover.  However, when I went to leap out the window, he went out the window wearing his red top.

Such that he was looking directly up at me, he was on his back and floated out the window.  I thought,

‘Well good for you, now you’ve gone and levitated.’

This was clearly a trap, as well, because I ran up one floor and as I did went south.  I was running to another window to get away from him.

I knew that if I were to have leapt from the window before, he would have been there to either zap me or catch my fall.  I had planned to simply jump directly down to the ground.

Since it was a dream and I knew that I was dreaming, I would simply have broken my fall at will when a couple of storeys off the ground.  At that point, I could then turn it into a flying dream.

However, now the automaton dork made me have to abandon that little plan of escape.  So then I thought of what I would do, I would simply go through the window anyway.  Then it dawned on me,

‘What if he is simply one of an army of these automatons who look alike?  My god he could be everywhere.’

Rushing up to the next floor, as I looked out the window, I saw that he had floated up at will to the floor that I had just left.  I knew then, without a doubt, that it was a damn trap.

I was becoming more than a little bit pissed off.  I had no intentions of being entrapped or captured.  My resolve was steely, I would not be captured.  Period!

Since the other one had gone out the window and I hadn’t seen where he had gone, I thought that I just had to take my chances.  At that, I pushed off and went flying through the window.

I instantaneously began having the most wonderful flying dream.  It was so bright out that it seemed like the sunlight was streaked with platinum.

I was progressing towards the body of water as I flew, as if on my stomach, travelling headfirst.  I could see that there was an unusual cloud formation covering the water.

It wasn’t much but there was a great halo.  There was a fine light-intense mist that the cloud had been producing.  It was as if, somehow, there had been a storm that had brought the clouds sweeping down to the water.

Now, as it were, the clouds were beginning to gather.  This was definitely an astral plane dream.  Emitting a light all their own, the clouds were very thin but very, very white and seemingly iridescent.

The clouds caught the light in such a way that it caused them to glimmer tendrils of light away from the amassing clouds.  The clouds were slowly drawing together into a singular, massive formation.

They were hiding something and I couldn’t see what it was.  As I was travelling, I noticed that there were these little globes of blue light.  They were very, very intense spheres of blue light.

Around them, they had rings like Saturn does.  I thought then,

‘Obviously these are extra-humans (EHs), and this armada of little shuttle-like crafts of blue light must be how they were ferrying, the previously captured, persons back to the mothership or probe.’

At that, I decided,

‘This is too interesting a dream to be fearful any longer.  Let’s get investigative here.’

At that point, I decided to follow through and see where these little crafts were headed.  Of course, they were making for the strange, massive cloud formation.  I knew that I had to fly ahead and see what the cloud formation was hiding.

I began following one and it was definitely gravitating towards something up ahead.  On closer inspection, I realised too that they were much too small to hold any human being.

Why they wanted to be ferrying back foetuses was beyond me?  Surely, I was not carrying a foetus.  Therefore, they had to have not been ferrying back foetuses in the tiny crafts of spherical, ringed blue light.

As if the equator of the sphere was tilted on its axis at a slight angle, the wings were tilted just a little bit above the horizon.  I followed the sphere of blue light and I seemed to be caught in its drag.

I was being swept along at even greater speeds than, to that point, I had been willing myself in flight.  It was then that we cleared the land way below and began cruising, at great speeds, over the immensely blue water.

On flying above it at easily more than forty storeys, it was so thrilling to experience resonance with the body of water.  I began dropping back, not going very fast, keeping my distance behind the sphere on which I had focussed.

However, I was still being swept along in its rapid wake.  As we came closer, I realised that the cloud was so colossal that it was taller than the skyscraper that I had just been running through in terrorised flight.

As I got closer to it, I noticed that it was less so a cloud.  Too, I was able to discern that there was some force within the cloud that was also extremely bright and emitting light.

Getting closer still, I realised that the spheres of blue light were actually reflecting the starlight of whatever Star system I was in.  It was broad daylight but this immense cloud formation blocked it from my view.

The Sun was directly ahead, just above the horizon, and beyond the cloud mass.  The numerous spheres of reflecting blue light were moving back to this large cloud formation.

When they got close to the cloud, they began going towards it at an angle.  They then began circling, too, they began rising up in the air a bit.

So too, I began tilting my left shoulder and began going up to the right through the air.  Still, I was travelling in the wake of the one that I had psychically latched on to – earlier near the start of my flight.

Next, I got into the outer layers of the cloud formation and it was very thin and wafer-like.  This allowed me to progress unobstructed.  I got much higher still and then noticed that up higher there was a break in the clouds.

The look was reminiscent of when one got close to the eye of a hurricane that was forming.  Going up, I encountered the most mind-expansive vista imaginable.

There in the water and simultaneously hovering just above it was the most intensely bright and incredibly large, pure blue sphere.  It was perfectly shaped and it was like a globe of liquid light that was blue merging to a soft green.

It was so light-intense.  This incredible globe of light was such a powerhouse, such a life-force onto itself.  Slowly, I spilled over the edge of the protective cloud cover and began levitating downwards towards it.

Every dream of high moment that I had ever had, clearly, had prepared me for experiencing this sphere’s incredible pure love.  I progressed headfirst downwards and into the side of it.

Interestingly, the spherical balls of light were making their way into it.  I realised that it was not at all a hard shell.  It seemed expansive, liquid… inviting.

I thought that I could definitely dive into its liquid-light shell.  Goodness, it was so serenely tranquil and beautiful.  I sobered myself with the reminder that I had come too far and there was nothing but fear itself to fear.

So at that, I chose a region of the equatorial area and projected myself at will into it.  I immediately was jettisoned, at light speeds, into it.  At once, inside the thin liquid shell, there was an even greater sense here of bright blue light.

I was now posited inside this room.  Here there were several of the persons whom I had earlier seen being zapped in the lobby.

‘You just had to go walking into a trap!’ I wearily admonished myself.

For seeing these persons present, however, I felt no pangs of fear at the obvious ramifications.  These were mostly older people but earlier they had all been stunned in the lobby.

A handful of younger persons were also present.  They were all there looking rather disoriented, slowed down and looking like they had just been zapped by lightning.

They seemed as if the experience had sent them on a wild ride around a half dozen galaxies at faster-than-light speeds.  A truly enervating experience they seemed to have endured.

These people were, in the true sense of the word, spooked.  They were all slowed down and could hardly intelligibly speak.

The first thing that I noticed about the room was that it had grey walls and not a single door.  There was no way out of this.

There were windows, however, whose drapes were very surrealist.  They were red drapes that were like the red that the automaton wore.  Though the windows were open, they weren’t really worth the bother because there wasn’t anything for you to go look out and see.

With bars that were warped, twisted and broken, the windows were arrogantly left wide-open.  The drapes were also warped and twisted, as if frozen in mid-motion, creating a surreal effect.

There were a few cots around.  Everybody who was there was assigned to a cot.  These persons seemed impaled and as though paralysed.  There were such utterly warped expressions of frozen pain on their faces.

It was as though the moment at which they had each been zapped, the look on their faces had become frozen.  Yet their frozen expressions were simultaneously elasticised and allowed them to sleepily drool to themselves.

Naturally, they carped on about the plight that they were in.  Mostly, they were communicatively trying to get through to me because I was not warped face.

It obviously seemed to be a mothership.  Yet, it was more than a spaceship.  I thought to myself,

‘Well here I am having an astral plane experience, isn’t that wonderful.’

Hollywood be damned, I was not about to grow fearful of monster EHs wanting to abduct and torture me.  I couldn’t quite figure if I had travelled into another dimension, by way of the astral plane, or had simply encountered an EH civilisation by way of the astral plane.

Regardless, it was so very wonderful.  Here were all these people who were doubly stunned at their predicament but I kept on saying,

“Come on people.  Get up, get up, get up!”

I seemed the only person unaffected by this warping paralysis.  Since they were not going to budge, because they couldn’t, I chose to join them eventually lying down on one of the free cots.

“Let’s just relax.  After all, we just have to wait and see what happens next.  We’re not in control here.  So let’s just wait this out.”

There was an East Indian guy also present whom I wanted to seduce.  I was besottedly enjoying the drink of his Dravidian-thin body.

Suddenly, there was an oval opening that appeared in one of the walls.  When it occurred, we were all lying with our heads towards that wall.

On my left, as I lay on the cot, there was a window.  On the right, there was a large opening in the wall.  It was as though an elevator had arrived and seamlessly opened in the wall.

It had deposited more people.  Looking just as stunned as the others, they stood there frozen.

The lissome East Indian guy then stood up and decided that he was going to go and put away his clothes.  I was impatient with his denial and snapped at him,

“Stop being so finicky and fussy, come and lay down.  Don’t be ashamed of your body.”

He was wearing a towel and trying to cower and run away.

“Come back and lie down.” I added.

We waited and waited for another round of arrivals.  Little children were the next round of arrivés.  They interestingly were all fresh-faced and seemingly not as stunned, if at all, as the adults.

The people, when I had first arrived – especially the older ones, looked transient like street people.  It was not that they were street people.  Rather, they were left so drained and stunned that they seemed very downtrodden like people who live in the streets.

Concerned about her metamorphosis, this one woman who was there started becoming frantic,

“Look what’s happening to me.  There are these bands on my arms!”

Indeed, this was true.  There was just below the elbow an indentation, as though an invisible band was about her arm, like some sort of shackle.  We all, for being made aware, confirmed that it was on all our arms.

She had noticed it because it was causing her some discomfiture.  It was a burning sensation that she said was painful.  She was crying and beginning to get hysterical,

“Now, now.  Just relax, stop freaking out.”

She then got up and walked over to this one cot next to hers.  She then pounced onto the man on the cot.  He was an older man as was she.  She began talking getting her voice to sound more normal.  I immediately realised that she was channelling.

As she spoke in a really archaic fashion, her body was in this weird surreal pose like a Victor Brauner subject’s.  The use of language was very ancient.  Sounding almost manly, she spoke to the man,

“Tonight I want you to bury your seed deep into me.  And be the father that bears fruit to bring forth my child; my seed; to nurture my seed.

“And turn my soil…”

I listened and thought,

‘Indeed, she’s definitely being mind-controlled by whoever has been doing the zapping and capturing.

‘Right!  At your age and well above your childbearing years, well above your seventies, you want to be impregnated.  Indeed.’

Then strangely enough, she slipped out of character and on becoming herself would embarrassingly restrain herself profusely apologising,

“My goodness, what’s happening to me?  Please.  No, no, no.  That’s not what I meant to say.  What’s happening to me?”

She, as well as the others who were being channelled in this fashion – all of them women – realised that they were being used beyond their will.  They did not want to participate or at least have it get out of hand.

So they were trying to rein it in.  However, my reaction was that they should go with the flow… at least so that I could see where this was leading.

She was then straddling the man’s hips as he lay on his back looking truly mortified.  Grinding her hips into him, she looked truly possessed by some male-energied, satyric force.

She was very carnally focussed.  On closer inspection, I realised that she was cloven-hoofed.

‘Boy this is quite the astral plane experience… indeed.’ I thought.

Here on the astral plane, these women were so keen on having a sexual experience.  Each and every one of us, they were obviously going to end up screwing to the hounds.

As the experience progressed and was getting around to me, as they took turns with everyone, I awoke.  Sadly, the phone rang as I had forgotten to turn it off on taking to bed.

*I was, to say the least, most upset because this was such an intense and involved dream.  I spoke to the woman but I was slowly coming out of the dream.

Although, I must admit that I did not feel displaced, bloated and all the usual telltale signs that I had been astral plane-engaged.  However, I did sneeze a great deal.  This, truth be told, is customary after such dream activity.

I suspect that had I gone the whole nine yards with this dream experience, the outcome for me would have been different.  I am convinced that had I consummated with the possessed women, I would have awakened feeling immensely drained.

**Later on, during the course of the day whilst meditating, I reflected on this dream.  Suddenly, a thought of Merlin fell into my mind rather lucidly.

I thought of how he used to first read then listen to the audio-cassette later in the day and comment.  Rather intently, I heard Merlin say,

“This lamb is always getting its little magic hooves into no end of trouble!”

With that I collapsed from lotus position into the plush comfort of the pyramid’s cushioned interior laughing for joy.

***Recently, I spoke to a friend who’s been following this dream blog.  He wanted to know, with regards the dream blog – Time-Travelling Georgian/Regency Dandy, if I’ve ever given thought to what might have happened had I not chosen to awaken when I had. 

I don’t believe that I would have passed as he wondered.  However, as I stated to my friend, I believe that had I acquiesced and allowed myself to have been captured by the mind-controlling extra-human sentries that I would have awakened without the slightest recall of having had the astral plane ‘dream’ encounter. 

One only has to look at Hubble space telescope images to realise that to fall for the millennia-regurgitated fare, of our being alone in the universe, has long passed its usefulness.  Why would this ignorance be perpetuated but to keep us ever unaware of what is truly afoot – not just out there but even right here on Earth? 

I hope that you continue enjoying these dream experiences of mine.  More than that, I trust that they will inspire you to become more awakened and focussed when asleep.  For starters, it is a great way of keeping the brain healthy.  Conversely, it enhances one’s ability to see beyond the waking state’s Maya-saturated veil.  END. 

As ever, sweet dreams and don’t forget to push off and start flying! 

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Photo: Giant blue spherical glass sculpture & Neptune captured by James Webb Telescope.

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