Nancy Wilson… and More.


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

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

Body type was Solar/Saturn. 

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Milan’s body type was Saturn/Venus. 

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

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

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

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

Q: Past lives of note for Milan:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Q: Past lives with Arvin:

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

Number of past incarnations total twenty and include:

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

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

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

(KB: this was an important set of incarnations) 

 Q: Past lives with Merlin and the ET:

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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


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


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

Celebrate: Frank Sinatra 100 Years!

Chairman of the Board Frank Sinatra

Whilst the Moon transited both Taurus and my twelfth house, I would dream the most lucid astral plane dream in long ages.  At the centre of that dream encounter was the man of the hour, the newly refocussed, Frank Sinatra. 

Over the years, I have had very few dream encounters with this man.  As befitting his Michael Overleaves, I found this man to be rather arrogant and abrasive. 

*Frank Sinatra’s Michael Overleaves were channelled as those of a young soul sage.  END. 

This for me has always been an indicator that one is dealing with a young soul.  They are just so damn impatient, arrogant and socially aggressive – sorry but these spiritual boors just bore the living shit out of me. 

Prime example of the young-souled zeitgeist is deftly validated in the dream encounter with the quintessential young-souled female of the 20th century, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.  Add to all that animus-charged angst is the fact that she also happened to have been a young-souled king. 

Her effect on me during the dreams of December 30, 1992 – which in this blog are entitled: King Holding Court – are the dynamic of a late mature soul (self) being socially shunned by a young soul (Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis).  These persons, for me, are extremely enervating and real crushers of my aura. 

Although, to be sure, when Merlin was incarnate I would have suffered much with regards socially aggressive young souls, now I simply do not suffer.  I simply walk away – life is too fucking short to suffer spiritually dense-energied boors. 

In any event, the dream was of Frank Sinatra being feted as the arrivé astral plane habitué that he then was.  This was one of the most beautiful, healing and lucid dreams imaginable. 

Well you can bet your bottom dollar that I spent the next several days saturating the walls of my Montréal home with Sinatra’s sublime soulfulness.  I have chosen to include all the dreams had that day as they allow me to fill the spaces between with another YouTube video of Sinatra’s shamanic wizardry. 

At the time, it was Sunday, May 24, 1998 and the dreams were audiocassette-recorded on tape CCXLVIII and are to be found in Volume XXV of the 25-volume dream opus.  Be well and as ever, know that the love you afford me by being herein focussed is relished with every fibre of my creative soul and, in turn, is returned to you tenfold. 

Sweet dreams – for we are, you and me, marvellous shamans.  I love you more! 


A room, where there was a tall countertop, proved the setting for the first dream.  Two large books were sitting on the countertop whilst a fat Jewish man was putting on a play.

I too was supposed to have been putting on a play.  Going to one of the books, I opened it and looked inside.

A black-covered book, it contained fascinating information.  For starters, it stated that on June 5th, I had tested HIV+.

On learning this, I remained rather detached.  I was not in the least bit devastated by the news.

I thought that, perhaps, this had likely occurred when I had been off being frisky in Vancouver’s Stanley Park.  Being blasé about the news, I shrugged saying aloud, “Oh well, that’s life.”

Next I was naked and squatting.  I looked back over my shoulder at my body and thought that at some point my body was going to become excessively skeletal.

Honestly, I was not upset to have learnt this news.  Later on, I would get together with Xerxes Hamelin who was seated on a bunk to my immediate left.

Turning to look at him, I told him the news and adding that he needed to go and get tested.  He, too, was not especially upset and remained seemingly resigned to the ramifications of the reality at hand.

Holding my hand, he said that it was okay with him and that we would move through this together.  Furthermore, Xerxes said that whether or not he tested HIV+, we would remain together.

He assured me that we would go through it all.  I was reminded of how fiercely loyal an individual Xerxes Hamelin is.

The Jew was stout with curly black hair; too, he had a bit of a receding hairline.  He was most intent on putting on his play and was quite passionate about it.

Myself, I had lost all focus with being creative.  I knew that it was going to take me some time to adjust to experientially being in this new space.  There would be a lot to have to assimilate.

At the time, I had told Xerxes Hamelin that I was already taking a whole battery of pills – vis-à-vis being HIV+.  Seemingly, among other things, I was also taking AZT pills.

So far, none of the drugs were proving toxic which was nice to have known.  I was wearing a black jockstrap whilst seated on my folded legs and looking down at myself.

Looking at the outside of my left thigh, I was inspecting myself with visions of what aesthetic horrors laid up ahead.  There was a moment there of chilling terror.

The interlude was, though, brief as I realigned my energies by starting to do deep yogic breath exercises; thus, I eclipsed all negative thought processes.  Quite simply, there was no time to be negative as nothing was to be accomplished by being thusly focussed.

After having known so many people who have passed of AIDS, I had to be accepting of the inevitably of Life.  In the end, I chose to be philosophical about this change in my life experience.

I must say that one had to be more positive about the inevitable.  After all, death was merely a transition into the greater community.

Indeed, more persons have died than have lived.


Next, in this the second dream, I was in a salon where on one side there were large floor-to-ceiling windows.  This was a long salon and 18th century in style.

The style was decidedly French and the colour a soft, soothing blue.  Lots of chandeliers dominated here which were pear-shaped.

Lots of persons were here and everyone sat on Louis something-or-other chaises.  The chairs were white with gold filigree.

Down the centre of the salon ran a plush-looking red carpet.  I sat, down in one corner of the room, being none-too-loud-personalitied.

There were all kinds of famous persons scattered about the salon.  Too, there were non-famous persons none of whom I recognised.

As for the famous persons, some were no longer incarnate whilst very much so alive at present.

A door stood off to my left across from where I sat.  Though I was with someone, I cannot now recall who exactly it was.

That particular door opened and revealed an incredibly intense blue light.  The light flooding into the room was also the same intense blue and, by far, was more than sunlight.

Nor was it platinum-hued or matted as if the Moon’s light.  The light flooding the room through the opened door was incredibly intense.

The large regal-looking double doors had opened simultaneously from outside.  Goodness, I could not believe what next happened.

Into the stately salon walked the recently discarnate Frank Sinatra.  Quite simply, this man exuded power itself.

God… I simply had to sit up, straight-backed, in my chair.

*I can’t recall ever having had a dream encounter with this man whilst he was incarnate, though, I may have.  Too, I have never really paid much attention to his musical career.

Certainly, I was not anticipating a dream encounter with this individual.  Indeed, as it is, I am loathed to have to admit dream encounters with famous persons.  END.

Straight away, I stood up in deference to the elder creative statesman.  Quite obviously, Frank Sinatra had now awakened from the so-called ‘soul sleep’ to being an astral plane habitué adept.

After having completed the transition to being no longer focussed on the physical plane, this was a coming-out party for the much-loved entertainer.  God, it was good to have been there in the salon.

Frankly, I had no clue why I was there.  Way down the exceptionally long hall were Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr..

The latter two, of course, are older astral plane habitués than Frank Sinatra.  Too, the comic genius Charlie Chaplin was closer to the door with Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. to greet Frank Sinatra.

All the stellar personalities, who had already passed on, were closest to the door through which Frank Sinatra entered.  Next in line, were the incarnate celebrities who were familiar with Frank Sinatra at the time of his passing.

Jay Leno was one of the incarnates present at the astral plane salon.  He got up and nobly walked over to greet Frank Sinatra.

Jay Leno had been the one to usher Frank Sinatra into the room and was quite an affable easygoing host.  Frank Sinatra was so fuck-all fantastical and magnetic.

What was most extraordinary about this dream was how undeniably Alive Frank Sinatra was.  He looked no more than fifty years old.

Above all else, Frank Sinatra looked well-rested.  There is simply no other way of describing how he looked and energetically felt.

There was such an abundance of love in this room – even more so than outpoured at his passing.  Truly phenomenal was it to have been in this salon.

What remained with me, long afterwards, was what an honour it was to have experienced this transcended being’s awakening.  Truly uplifting an experience it was for me.

I think that I may have been with Xerxes Hamelin.  In any event, as we stood there clapping and cheering, excited to see him, the arrogant one simply turned his back on us as though we were so much uninvited guests.  At the time, I had been thinking that he was going to make his way over to us and whilst en route he would be shaking hands with everyone.

Alas, no such luck.  He did shake hands with some long-dead celebrity who remained seated on the ornate-looking chairs.

I believe that it was someone whom he had known earlier in his career and who was a record or film producer.  Someone, it was, whom one would never have known for being a member of the public.

I was left with the impression that Frank Sinatra was not only difficult but arrogant as all hell.  I for one was not put out by his behaviour.

I was thrilled to have seen him awakened, as it were, into the light.  This was not about gawking at celebrities but, rather, I was there to salute his just concluded and quite accomplished life.

After all, he had creatively achieved a fantastical amount.  Truth be told, 200 albums is nothing to sneeze at.

My companion and I had been the first and, it turned out, only ones to have gotten up and clapped.  This made us look that much more out of sorts.

As if to show his disapproval, Frank Sinatra had suddenly turned his back on us.

We had made embarrassing arses of ourselves; his reaction was, more or less, “Shut up and sit down!”

Way down at that end of the salon, there was a great deal of laughter as he, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. got reacquainted.  Frank Sinatra looked so incredibly on; he was so in tune with his very soul itself.

He was in total command of the situation.  He knew where it was at.

There were no misconceptions as to what was going down.  After having moved on from a rather accomplished life, he had just arrived in grand style.

Power to him!

*I think that it should be stated that part of the reason for Frank Sinatra’s arrogance is owing to the fact that he was authentically channelled as a young soul.  Furthermore, this was a young soul sage which means that he would be possessed of much dramatic and aristocratic airs.

With such Michael Overleaves, at the very least, Frank Sinatra would definitely come off as acutely arrogant.  As a recent astral plane habitué, Frank Sinatra could be expected like all young souls to be arrogant, blunt and frankly rude.

Either way, that does not detract from his stellar creative accomplishments.  Certainly, I was not going to hold it against him being merely human even when an astral plane habitué.  END.


I was working in a corner, in this the third dream, at the offices in Vancouver.  Whilst walking south, I was looking for a place to sit and work.

Rashima Mittal was trying to pre-set something on the seat which I wanted.  Calling out to her, I let her know that I had already taken the seat.

There were no hostilities between us; in the end, she ended up taking the seat ahead of mine.  At the time, it was nighttime out.


Whilst in another office working, in this the fourth dream, I noticed at the supervisor’s podium writing away was none other than Kari Laitinen.  He was writing on a writing pad.

On noticing me, he blushed – he was being shy.  Going over, I warmly greeted him whilst marvelling at his handwriting.

He remained shy as we warmly visited together.  For most of the conversation, he shyly looked down and not because he was trying to avoid or shun me.

Initially, I had been standing before him and then moved around to the side of the podium.  By so doing, I ended up standing on his immediate right.

What struck me most was that he was not writing in French.  Rather, he was using a language of symbols which seemed more so Middle Eastern; possibly, it was Arabic if not Hebrew.

Though there were others around, they didn’t factor into the scheme of things.  What struck me, too, was the fact that aspects here were set simultaneously outdoors.


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