Tag: Michael Overleaves

Astral Plane Life Review.

Arvin da Brgha3 Comments

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As if a testament to the bucolic splendour that we shared, this next dream occurred on Thursday, January 13, 1994.   At the time, the Moon transited Aquarius and my ninth house.  There were so many of our personal truths being validated in this dream.

Here in this quiet moment, Merlin and I found each other.  Magically, we were able to squinge up and become lost in intimacy soul-to-soul.

Certainly being thus engaged with another human being, always afforded one the ability to escape the ubiquitous dreck of racial animus, which is never far off when one happens to be a Black male.

So very good it was to have found, from within the dreamtime, the magus Merlin.  Though he seemed in that initial dream – in 1978 – to be of points unknown, Merlin would prove my elfin-dream magus extraordinaire.

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I found myself in a house at night time.  Who should I be there with me but Merlin?  On seeing each other we lit up; we both greeted the other quite warmly.

He looked up at me and winked, at which point, I went and joined him as he sat on a large sofa-bed.  Sublime…  A very comfortable seat it was, too.

This was a beautifully crowded home with lots of furniture everywhere.  This was also a work area.  I had been busily writing at the time.

On joining him – he had called me over – I went over and cuddled up in his arms.  Merlin’s arms were protectively wrapped about my enraptured body.

Then Merlin did the most sensual thing, he began kissing me in my left ear.  Instantaneously his wet, soft, warm tongue made quivering labia of my lobe.  I can’t now recall having experienced such quiet intimacy in ages.

In what was so obviously a study, all about the room were shelves crammed with books, books and more books.  In the foreground was a large writing desk.  There, I had been doing a great deal of research pouring through several books.

Pulling away, I had looked directly in the eyes at him and was so very aware that this was a dream with the dream magus and said,

“Merlin, I’m so glad that we had that time together – those seven years together…”

This was one of the most real and intense dreams that I have ever had, to date, in this lifetime.  Until having this dream encounter with Merlin, I would have argued that this degree of realism and intensity of focus in the dreamtime were not possible.

Clearly, this was a very potent astral plane encounter between Merlin and me at the level of soul.  This is also the one dream, since Merlin’s passing, in which both he and I have been so directly communicative on several levels.

Never before had we done so much speaking, one to the other, by actually using words.  We were deeply conversational.  Our eye contact, as well, was more intense and unwavering than before it has ever been.

As a matter of fact, I would even go so far as to say that our eye contact, during this rather lucid dream, was more intense and sustained than at any point whilst he was incarnate.  It was truly sublime.

Though we did not have sex – which rarely we ever did in the waking state – there was a great deal of physical intimacy between us.  Goodness, I could smell the warm familiarity of Merlin, as though he had just returned from a theatre gig that had kept us apart by some six or more weeks.

Rather than jeans, Merlin wore a white pair of cotton slacks.  His favourite maroon-coloured pullover, he wore.  To feel the familiarity of his sexy elfin body was more poetic than had we been together in the waking state.

As Merlin made love to my left ear, the feel of his beard was more ticklishly orgasmic than if I were female-sexed and he were deep inside my warm, moist, surrendered depths – so utterly sublime was our intimacy here.

As he held me, lovingly rubbing my body, I told him over and over how very beautiful it was to have known him,

“I’m so glad that we had those seven years together…” I repeated.

“…We did so much… accomplished so much together…”

“Oh, I know my darling.  I know…” said Merlin hugging me even more tightly as he whispered almost absently deep into me,

“…And you don’t realise how much it is…”

“Of course, I know.  It really does do a great deal of work, for all time.  I mean, had we not had it and gone through what you did at the end with me having abandoned you, everything would have turned out so differently…”

“Oh I know, my dear.  And don’t you worry.  Everything is going to turn out right in the end.  Don’t worry.  I know that…”

Merlin was very reassuring, soothing, calming and confident.  After we rested a while, I said to him in passing,

“You know, I really ought to get up and get back to my work here…”

“No, no, no.  You mean you’re still into all that clap-trap…”

I couldn’t believe what he had just said and became convulsive with laughter, all the while stomping my feet, my hands lazily clapping for joy.  He then began tickling me.

Merlin was so very playful, at which point, he allowed me to recover and I said to him,

“You know Merlin, it’s only the other day that I was thinking to myself that I’ve almost forgotten so many of the little things that you used to say…”

I told him that, in the waking state, I had been reading through some notes and my diaries from the time of his illness and death.  I was amazed at what a clear sketch they painted of his idiosyncrasies.

Now so many years later, I had completely forgotten many of these gems but for the fact that they exist as notes, here and there, recorded at the time.

He told me that he knew what I meant but then dismissed it all as not being the important thing, adding,

“…however, you still have the essence though…”

“Yet it’s so important.  All those little things keep the portrait in focus.  Until you just said that, and I was reminded of how teasing and playful you were, I’d have been totally at a lost to have remembered something like that.

“That you were so teasing and perpetually made fun of my spiritual approach, does bring back how much it used to hurt…”

“Oh I know. However, you know that I was only ever just kidding?”

“Of course, I did, at least now I do but at the time it was part of the fun and rivalry of the dynamic.  It was so good what we had…”

“Yes, I know…”  He absently said this as if an afterthought to himself.

With that, we fell silent whilst I collapsed more liquidly into his arms.  There was nothing but stillness of the greatest order.  There was nothing but intimacy as we touched soul-to-soul.

From those rare moments, I now have no recall of what transpired afterwards between us.  I have no idea to where the dream matured from that point.

For, at the time, I was ecstatic, enraptured, in love.  Truth be told, I was flying without moving.  Truly no poetry more sublime could our souls have woven than the beauty which was this dream.

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Photo: Stately study.

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

Ghosts of Future-Past.

Arvin da Brgha1 Comment

I found myself hovering over Times Square.  I was intently looking at a hotel in Times Square – the one that has the large oxidised globe on it.  I thought – this may be the Drake Hotel.

The building, at its upper storeys, had aspects of a pyramid or a ziggurat to it.  This was one of those monolithic sandstone buildings that were built in the 1930s – a decade when there was a real architectural renaissance in Manhattan.

It had a very large base that culminated in a stepped formation near the top.  The building sat on the west side of Eight Avenue, if I correctly remember.

Perhaps, it is not even a hotel – I thought, maybe, it is the headquarters for one of the city’s newspapers – with the globe at its zenith.  So, perhaps, it formerly housed or still does The New York Times.  After all, it is in Times Square – hence the name of the square.

After having hovered for awhile, I began to move very slowly; I was high up – several storeys high up.  I watched as the ubiquitous yellow vehicles of the city’s taxi fleet, way below, negotiated the congested traffic.  I was able to see beyond the usual as well.

I saw Carl Leroiderien† going to pick up tickets for a Broadway show.  He was walking past the stage door; he was going towards the front of house.

There was something about this man which I found rather sagely.  Soon, he passed out of view; he went off to see someone.  He stood out like a sore thumb.

I knew well enough not to come down.  Carl has never had any interest in me, save to be aggressive and socially hostile, so why bother?  He was off to be in his element because basking in the glow of the klieg lights was what his soul craved at the moment.

However, when Carl was leaving his Chelsea apartment, I saw him talking to Merlin.  I still hovered in the air outside a front window that faced Carl’s fire-escape.

“No, no.  I sent those manuscripts for you and you can just go over them,” he was saying to Merlin as he returned some of Merlin’s writings.

Carl, arrogant prick that he is, was insensitively dismissing Merlin’s writing by returning it.  Of course, he did so under the guise of being too occupied to read the manuscripts.

I could tell from Merlin’s tone that he was really hurt for having his creativity dismissed.  Merlin felt rejected.  Carl was a disingenuous schmuck.

Carl’s offhandedness with Merlin was obnoxious.  Clearly, he did not think that Merlin’s writing was worth his time but – platinum-tongued palaverist that he is – he also did not give an opinion of what he thought.

Carl had cleverly placed the writing into a small trunk, which had languished in the Bourbon Street basement of his tiny cottage, abandoned there for over a decade.  The manuscripts were water-damaged.

In presenting Merlin with the trunk, he would minimise the rejection by making it look like he had been intent on returning the trunk and its damaged contents.  The snub was not lost on either Merlin or me.

I was, at the time, just down the hall; it was a short distance from where Carl had been talking to Merlin.  Wounded as he was, Merlin never did come out from the apartment.

Whilst standing by two apartment doors, I kept watch.  People were coming and someone said,

“I think that there is someone by the door; I can just tell…”

Since I did not want Carl or Merlin to know that I was about, I hid in back of both doors to the landing.  In that way, I avoided being seen by Carl’s neighbours; I averted the kind of trouble that I did not need.

I then went down the hall.  The door on the right was the apartment where Merlin had been.  I went to the door and knocked.

On opening the door to answer, Merlin looked totally different.  Though the eyes were unmistakably Merlin’s, he was considerably taller.

Merlin was very light-skinned and unmistakably Black.  He had off-blond hair that was naturally curly which he wore in a loose, soft Afro hairdo.  He was casually dressed.

He pleasantly smiled, on recognising me, though he was wearing a different body.  He familiarly, warmly said,

“Come in…”

Oh to hear his voice embrace me.  Such sweet, sustained magic!

I entered.  It was obvious that he was making one of his spectacular meals.  I, almost immediately, noticed that he had bought a cake.  It was a wonderful loaf.  Obviously, from the look of things, he had spent a great deal of time working on the other dishes.

There was a baked squash dish which was flavoured with a sweet liqueur.  A veal loaf was surrounded by a sea of sliced onions.  It presently was atop the stove, though, it was supposed to be returned to the oven.

There were marvellous vegetables that were all at various stages of preparation.  He stood at a sturdy, wooden-topped, central cutting board table.  He was cutting up an assortment of the vegetables.

My mind relaxed, as the pungent aroma of all the different herbs and spices being liberally used proved satiating and filled me up.

It was wonderful to again be in Merlin’s presence.  I had the impression that he was Straight or, perhaps, Bisexual.

At the entrance of the apartment, on the left, there was a little alcove.  The kitchen began there but it also opened up into a larger room.  This actually was part of the living room; it was L-shaped and hugged the kitchen area.

There, in the apartment, was a young woman with Merlin.  There was also a woman who seemed infirmed; she was lying on a cot.  She was close to the kitchen area where Merlin was.  They kept each other company whilst Merlin chopped up the vegetables.

Merlin and I were affectionate but there wasn’t any physicality to it.  We did not hug each other when the door opened even though we recognised the revealing, shockingly displacing sight of each other.

Merlin had immediately recognised my eyes, on opening the door, just as I had his.  However, there was now a dimensional void between us.  Merlin was a ghost from the future for me whilst I was a, vaguely familiar, ghost from the past for him.  He was warm towards me.

Merlin was a very decent human being, I must say.

He was, now, easily 6 feet 3 inches tall.  Though not mesomorphic, he was also not the classic ectomorph that he had been in his immediate past life.

He was angular but not in the same way as I remembered him.  Merlin here did not wear glasses.  His eyes were large and even more soulful than they had been in his last incarnation.

It was so beautiful to see him.

The seasoning was so… spot-on.  It actually made my mouth water.

The woman then asked him, from the cot where she reclined, if he had put onions with the veal loaf.  When he said that he had, she told him that this was not right.

“Let me show you how to do the onion rings,” she called to him in a familiar, intimate tone.

Merlin then asked me to give him a hand and help him carry the things to her, just inside the larger room, on the cot.  I helped him get the veal loaf onto a large tray with some other things.  For whatever reason, at the last minute, I got some bananas and also put them on the tray.

We then came out, into the other room, where the younger woman was.  She seemed like a nurse or a caretaker for the older woman.  She was sitting there very silently observing us.

The older infirmed woman was very detailed with her directions for the preparation of the dishes and the garnishes.  Some party umbrella garnishes, which are often used to decorate foods and cocktails, were also on the tray with the food.

Merlin had sliced the bananas – actually, they were plantains.  The older woman had her arms clasped at her chest like an Egyptian mummy’s.  Merlin then bound her body with blue-striped gauze.  The blue stripes were like those of the Israeli flag.

She laid there immobile with her head raised on a cushion which had been strategically placed beneath the cot’s mattress.  She looked at Merlin and wearily said,

“Please, will you give me my last rites?  I want to hear you say that prayer.”

At that, Merlin began saying the Lord’s Prayer except that it was not at all the traditional Christian prayer of Christ.  Instead, this prayer seemed to hearken back to Egyptian times.  When he was finished the prayer, she uttered a soulful breath; it was the equivalent of Amen.

“Avuum…”

It is simply impossible to convey the sound she made.  It sounded like a three-syllable word.  Quite simply, the breath went out of her when she intoned the arcane breath.  Perhaps, at the end of each lifetime, this was the call the soul made when exiting the body.

Together, Merlin and I had said the word with her but not as she had soulfully done.  It was the chant of the dying which only a departing soul, accepting of the inevitable, could properly invoke.

When Merlin and I said it, in my mind’s eye, I instantaneously saw the word written out in bold letters of blue light.

Merlin got up and slowly, silently, walked away.  I got up after him and thought about the potency of the word.  I looked into Merlin’s face and saw that he was no longer the youthful man who had greeted me at the door.

Instead, he truly looked drained as though he had been channelling for too many hours.  He was truly exhausted for having performed the rite on her.

Merlin returned to the kitchen area.  I followed after him.  I began eyeing the cake thinking that it would make a nice snack.

‘Hmmm, doesn’t that look nice,’ I thought, although, it needed to be warmed up.

It was a wonderful, fat lumpy cake with sweets in it – rather pleasing to look at.

“My, my, won’t I be glad to get some of this come dessert time.” I said in a quiet whisper. 

On Tuesday, March 24, 1992 as the Moon transited Sagittarius and my seventh house, whilst in dream flight, I projected myself into the future.

Whilst there, I dreamt the preceding dreams which proved the most sublime encounter with Merlin.  It was not just a glimpse into the future but proved to be illuminating, inspiring even.

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Ran into an old dancer friend from eons past…  we sat about chewing the fat – and god was there much to chew at…  I riotously laughed out loud when he said, “My god who knew you had this rich inner life going down back when I knew you… you just seemed so removed, remote even, from it all…”  Indeed, sometimes it seems – at least back then – it is best to just keep quiet and not engage in the Maya.  As there are never lies in dreams, it seemed an utter waste of time to bother engaging far too many persons met along the way back there. It was a surprise to me in late teens when I discovered that not everyone dreamt with the same élan as do I.  Then again, who wants to be burnt at the stake – at least socially.  Too, persons can be so terribly insensitive and quick to judge…  Either way, it was good to hang out and meet up with an old friend.  Funny though how things turned out for many, ultimately it proved no surprise.  Then again who gives a rat’s arse and as Sweet Brown so succinctly stated, “Ain’t nobody got time for that!”

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Photo: Merlin in Montréal opening night play he directed at Centaur Theatre, late 1970s.  

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

Sequential Dreams of Winged, Simian Mammalian Extra-Humans.

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I was in a house at night time and in a bedroom that was upstairs.  It was really a lot like the house at 122 Mortimer Avenue but wasn’t that house.

It also seemed like Amie Tothmanner’s house at Farm’s Site, Sandy Point, St. Kitts.  The old sprawling bungalow was elevated off the street in the front.

Isis da Braga hurriedly came to me and told me that she had seen some extra-humans outside.  She was somewhat panicked but I told her not to be upset.  By the news of extra-humans, I was really calmed and warmed.

I got up and was really excited but not on the verge of panic.  We went back to the rear of the house and looked out.  Just then, there was a beautiful rain downpour.  The rain was just so heavy and so gorgeous.

I stood there drinking in the rain’s healing beauty.  I loved listening to it and in time I was enraptured.  It was rather grey and balmy.  We waited and waited as the rains fell.  It was, indeed, really nice.

She then began giving me a description of what the extra-humans looked like.  They were Black she had said.

Later, after the rainfall, I went out to the street to head up towards Crab Hill and our house.  It was then that I had encountered a lone extra-human in the street.

The EH was across from Amie Tothmanner’s and between Adam Procopp’s and the Sandy Point Public Market.  They were of a different species from the ones that had evolved here on Earth.

Our souls had chosen to evolve here from simian mammals.  However, that group of souls had chosen a totally different species into which to have incarnated and evolve.

Nonetheless, they were also simian mammalians.  They had large, large, beautiful soulful eyes which bespoke the fact that they had been evolving in that race millions of years longer than we had here, on Earth, in the race of simian mammals chosen in excess of four million years ago.

They were a very ancient, very aged race.  They also had mouths that were O-shaped and, when they spoke, it took a bit of getting used to the mechanics of their speech.  Basically, their mouths worked vertically as opposed to our horizontally familiar arrangement – thus making them O-shaped.

The faces were extremely tiny and delicate-looking.  These people were also very short – between 4.5 and 5.0 feet tall – and thus appeared very squat.  Their torsos were very thick; barrel-chested, this made them appear even more so squat.

Their limbs, however, were very long and rakish.  The legs were very skinny and set wide apart, at the top, in their unusually wide hips.  These soulful extra-humans did not wear clothes.

The extra-human stood there perfectly naked and not the least bit self-conscious.  Their skin was so very dark and rich that it did not matter that they were naked.

There were also no genitals discernible because, up past labiate folds, both men and women had their sex hidden.  It was also customary, I had intuited, for both males and females to have changed their sex during the course of the life experience.

This was a process as natural as pubescence but which occurred later in the life experience for them.  This sex change by the way occurred at least once.

When the males of that species became aroused then their impressive sex descended past their extensive labiate folds.  I saw all this, as I had intuited, in a rapidly progressive inner vision.  It was very interesting.

A great deal of space sat at the top of the legs, in both sexes, which was really unisexed when you think of it.  The arms and legs were disproportionately long and sported a lot of cable-like veins.

The arms and legs were very thin and so birdlike that it actually looked like they had suffered rigor mortis and had lost all the fluids in their limbs.  Very dried-up-looking, ancient and parched, they looked, as though they were a desert-dwelling people.

They looked as though no moisture had ever touched their skin.  Very, very interesting arrangement their life experience was.

One other thing about these extra-human persons was the fact that they could, at will, grow these wonderful gossamer wings.  Just like a spider could produce web, at will, so too could they have created a web-like wing which they could also use for transportation means.

They, too, could unfold these silken gossamer-looking wings.  They unfolded from their wrists, up to their armpits then down again, all the way down to their squat-torsoed, broad hips.

Immediately on having seen the wings unfold, I realised the purpose for such squat, barrel-chested torsos.  I also realised then that their thin-boned limbs were not unlike a bird’s – they simply had no feathers.

They would simply hunch their broad, bony shoulders placing the arms by their sides and begin secreting this temporary wing system.  It came, on closer inner-visioned inspection, from these labiate folds.

The fold system extended the length of the inside of their arms from the wrist, to the armpits then down the torso, to just above the wide hips.  I was able to get this inner vision because it was being telepathically shared with me by the very soulfully warm, male extra-human.

Using this secreted membrane, the otherworldly simian mammals were thus able to fly.  Here in the dreamtime, this was a truly remarkable discovery to have made.

I instinctively knew why they were there in the dreamtime.  I knew that they were not come to Earth to interfere with anybody.

“Isis, this is a dream.  They are here, in the dreamtime, just like I travel to different worlds.  So too can they travel, in the dreamtime, here from another world.”

Thus I was very accommodating to this extra-human.  I was very friendly and nice to him by opening both my arms, lowered, in a wide-open embrace and poured a ton of love from my solar plexus and directed it right into him.

I telepathically explained to him, as he had communicated with me, that I knew that he was here because he had travelled in a dream.  He understood and accepted my Love.

I told him that I too had been to other worlds myself.  I assured him that he was quite welcome to be here on Earth and that I hoped he had a good time whilst here.

I was being an ambassador to him.  He really did appreciate the warmth that I had extended him.  I continued on and told him that he should have no trouble being here.  I told him that it would be reasonable to expect some people to be afraid at the sight of him.

However, I reminded him that he was at an advantage because he could always take flight with his gossamer wings.  I knew full well that, even though this was the dreamtime, most Earthlings encountered therein are so somnambulant when awake in the waking state that they then progressed into the dreamtime just as asleep.

Thus they could not have been expected to know that, whilst in the dreamtime, they too had the capacity to fly at will.  He could easily escape from these people, if they were to grow fearful and were to try and upset him.  

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The preceding dream occurred, on Sunday, November 25, 1990, whilst the Moon transited both Aquarius and my ninth house.  This dream is one which I refer to as a starfaring dream because it involved a dream encounter with an ensouled creature of reason, an extra-human individual, who was visiting Earth during the dreamtime. 

As there are only two forces in the universe, there are therefore only one of two ways to perceive any and everything.  There is also only one of two ways to respond to one’s perceptions: either from a place of love or from a place of fear. 

These two forces, love and fear, are the two constants which span time and space and which resonate throughout the cosmos.  Since I was fully lucid and self-aware in this dream, I fully accepted that the being encountered was ensouled and an extra-human who was visiting Earth.  

Why should he not have been visiting Earth, much as I do visit other worlds, through the expediency of the dreamtime?  I chose to both perceive and interact, with the extra-human visiting Earth’s astral plane, from a place of love. 

Of course, for having taken the long lonely journey with Merlin, I was thereafter in a state of harmony for learning the greatest of lessons – human compassion.  Had it not been for what Merlin and I had achieved together, during the long eighteen months of his end-of-life illness, I could not have responded to the extra-human in the dreamtime as I did. 

I related to him exactly as I would have wanted to be, both perceived and engaged, were I an extra-human in his world’s astral plane experienced during the dreamtime’s expediency.  The dreamtime has the ability to afford one a range and depth of experiences which can be had by no other means. 

For having been both loving, open and accepting of the extra-human visitor in the dreamtime, as the next dream reveals, I was able to visit with this extra-human’s species on their nascent home planet.  It was one of the most beautiful and lucid dream experiences ever had. 

The following starfaring dream occurred in exquisite and ecstatic lucidity, on Saturday, December 29, 1990, whilst the Moon transited both Gemini and my first house.  This dream was a complement to the preceding dream and resulted after my having been open, compassionate and loving towards the visiting extra-human.  It was sequential dream which was born of the dream encounter with the extra-human in the dream streets of Sandy Point, St. Kitts a month earlier.  

The following dream visitation deftly illustrates that to give of self, to be open, to be accepting and acting of love is the portal to a more enriched life experience.  

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I found myself very lucidly awakened in a very strange world.  I was very high up on a canyon wall.  On the left side of the entrance, to be exact, to the canyon was I.

There was a metropolis way down inside the abyss of the canyon.  Inside, it was easily in excess of five miles deep – much deeper than anything we have here on Earth.

In the bottom of the abyss, at the centre, was a mount which itself was quite tall but from these heights seemed otherwise.  What it was like, in fact, was an inverted Machu Pichu because on this mount’s towering peak was a wonderful old metropolis.

This beautiful complex metropolis was still very much so alive.  Down to the left, down in the far section, was a beautiful, long landing strip.  This entrance to the canyonned metropolis, way at the top, was not very wide.

At least from afar, it looked that way.  The scale here was so much more massive than anything comparable on Earth that it did take awhile to figure it all out.

There were planes which did come into the canyonned metropolis.  They were not like planes as we know them here on Earth.  There was one that was approaching to land.  It was silver and more than a block long – rather impressive.

It had a wingspan that was not unlike a Concorde’s but it was much more extensive and began further to the rear of the craft.  Making it seem sentient in that sense, this jetliner was going very, very slowly.

Rather than air, it appeared to be moving through a densely aqueous medium.  It seemed like a whale that was just leisurely cruising.  It was very, very majestic.

However, one did get the sense that this craft had the capacity to do faster-than-light speeds.  More than that, the craft very well could possibly travel intergalactically or interdimensionally.

There were, as well, other kinds of planes.  As though made of cellophane, they had wings that were seemingly transparent.  Some were like a dragonfly’s wings, they were also double-winged, not unlike some of the earlier aeroplanes that did combat duty during World Wars I and II.

These wings were whirring, actually creature-like, flapping so rapidly that they almost seemed not to have been moving.  This was how these planes propelled themselves rather than by using propeller systems.

What was interesting about this was that there was some sort of wind disturbance in the canyon.  This was what presently prevented the planes from properly approaching to land.

Even though it was very large because it was still a confined space – canyonned – the canyon was closed off at the other end.  Thus the wind currents that came in, deep down inside, made it possible for the planes to move quite slowly and as if at will gently riding the air currents circling all the way down to safely land.

As that location of the near-sealed canyon best facilitated liftoffs and landings, the landing strips were off in that corner.  Deep inside the canyon, the trapped winds always circulated in a set pattern and rotated always in the same direction.

However, here in this dream, it was dark and moist.  The sky, which was very distantly removed, was overcast.  The entrance was wide but from the distance, as I had made my approach in flight, did not at all seem that way.

My approach was in a small, glass-fronted space shuttle that could easily have been an interstellar craft.  It was not unlike the space shuttle I took with Pandora da Braga in that interstellar flight, on September 9, 1989.

On arriving, the entrance was actually quite wide.  It was colossal, in fact, and could easily have accommodated the Concorde-like craft that I had seen way down below.  The entrance was a few blocks wide but from afar it did not seem so at all.

This very impressive entrance, to the canyon, was in excess of twenty storeys probably closer to fifty.  To get to this entrance, I had been travelling in a little gorge which seemed very deep.

There it was very lush, wet and a riotous tropical forest.  Lots of impressively massive arboreal species were present there.  Very intensely alive and richly hued, of various tonalities, were the arboreal gems.

However, that was not even the half of it.  As soon as one cleared the seemingly narrow entrance to the canyon, one was posited into this beautifully breathtaking panorama of the canyonned Metropolis.

It was a drop that was miles and miles down to the seemingly tiny, little mount, with the Machu Pichu-like metropolis, which was very much so alive and occupied.

Here the race of sentient beings was dark-skinned and long-haired.  They were jet-black-haired like the Amerindians of Machu Pichu.  These, however, were a very, very black-skinned and tiny people in stature.

This was very much so a living civilisation.  As we had approached, I noticed that on either side of the colossal entrance to the canyon was a boulevard of stately landscaped trees.

The canyon’s rock face was quite carved out with a lot of architectural leitmotifs.  There were hieroglyphs as in Egypt but in an altogether different sensibility.

The sweep of the architecture was very organic.  As if massively pressurised and moved during glacial activity, it was essentially the multi-millennial motion of stone.

It was the capture of the perpetual, timeless slow movement of stone which, somehow, this august civilisation had managed to have captured and quite ingeniously so.  For looking at this architecture, one had a sense of movement.

All in one inspiring movement, it was very magnetic, gravitationally-oppressive and groundingly uplifting.  In fact, this movement was still discernible in the lines of the architecture.

One had the sense of this architecturally being more so along the lines of Antoni Gaud토in a Gaian reference.

Next I was outside of the craft, on the left bank or chasm of the canyon.  It proved, in fact, to have been the left wall of the canyon.  I had looked to my left where the stone was grey but, somehow, it seemed to have been that colour because it was reflecting the clouds in the sky.

Here it was very windy, wet and very turbulent.  This was why, in fact, I had gotten out of the craft that I was in.  The craft had circled a couple of times but we weren’t able to land.

There were some other travellers, aboard the shuttle craft with me, none of whom I knew or recognised.  Thus we had been dropped off, up near the entrance, to wait out the turbulent windstorm which was definitely not a rainstorm.

I had managed my way onto this little ledge and noticed, more closely, that the rock was inordinately sculpted.  There were lots of intricate architectural designs, even here at this nondescript-seeming ledge, which was a mere outcropping in the canyon wall.

At this intimate proximity to the architecture, there was a greater sense of the sweeping motion of this rock.  It was not just intricate curved architectural shapes that were simply vertical or arrested as in classical Greek or Roman architecture.

This was, in fact, even beyond the aliveness of Gothic architecture in its superior spirituality.  It was truly living art.  It was Gaudí-like but more than Antoni Gaudí’s style.

It would seem that Antoni Gaudí was, in the dreamtime or at a deeper level of the soul from past reincarnational cycles, impressed by this living architectural style.

Antoni Gaudí was impressed by this style but what he was able to have realised, in this dimension’s waking state, was a feeble emulation of this style’s superior refinement and movement.

Nonetheless, at least Antoni Gaudí was able to have developed or bring forth these ideas and moved them along parallel to similar lines here on Earth.

This was clearly in a different dimension so that it was more alive than Antoni Gaudí’s creative genius has realised.  It was simply living architecture.

On having precariously found myself out on a limb, as it were, I began growing fearful.  I had noticed that the reason why we couldn’t have landed was because of the very turbulent storm, which churned at breakneck violent speeds, dizzying miles way below at the mount’s peak and even further below that.

It turned out that because there was nothing but wind currents in this canyon, the civilisation was subjected – from time to time – to these incredible windstorms.  During these times of great turbulence, it was impossible to have gotten out.

Luckily a man came along and came to my rescue.  He had been part of the travelling party with which I had arrived.  Although I can’t now recall his race whether human or not, however, if he had been then I am certain that he was White.

He was ridiculously tall and Nordic and decidedly hyper-hirsute, on the arms, which I had noticed as he had reached out to me.   Not unlike the claims of the Nordics, extra-humans who currently frequent Earth, was he.

There were some persons aboard this craft who did not fit either the human or this civilisation’s notion of the familiar native beau idéal.  In other words, this was a very cosmopolitan, interstellar travelling party.

He was an older man who was tall, lean, rakish and very noble of spirit.  When extending his hand to me, he had sought to draw me away from making a mess of things.  For having noticed the violent storm way below, I had become focussed on my fears.

He was concerned about me for having been seated alone out on the tiny ledge of outcropping rock.  Even at this level, so high up, it was already getting increasingly windy.

There were constant gusts of wind, out of the cavernous canyon, making their way up.  These winds only kept on getting more and more powerful.

It was actually possible to see the currents’ advancing ascent because of the way that they barrelled over all the signs of life in their path.

Though this was a barren-walled canyon, on which the civilisation was principally centred, the mount was covered with lush vegetation.  There, it was very terraced and beautifully landscaped.

All around the mount, which was sunken in an inner gorge, were mountains with lush vegetation and they towered even higher than the central Machu Pichu-like peak.

It was this encircling mountain range that concavely sloped up about the central peak, to eventually meet the sheer rock face of the canyon, which had served as the agricultural belt of the civilisation.

It was a totally self-perpetuating biospheric system.  The plant life, on the encircling mountain range, was a very lush rainforest that was always mist-shrouded which teamed with dense, self-perpetuating life.

In essence, it was the lungs of the civilisation.  The mountain plants provided all the fresh oxygen that the entrapped metropolis, buried way below in the belly of the canyon, so desperately needed.  This organic encircling mountain range was what kept the air, in the canyon, from becoming dead and stale.

It recycled the air at those depths and kept the civilisation and its extra-humans alive.  It was a warm, moist, very humid rainforest.  This was a very healthy, densely oxygenated, clean civilisation.  Very organic and in tune with nature was this place.

It was a temperate humidity with a fine spray of mist that was humid and as cool as, I suspect from what I have heard, Hong Kong is in its cooler months.

All the way along, above the vegetation line where the encircling mountains sloped outward to join the rock face, I noticed a series of wonderful portals that seemed haphazardly placed.

They were these O-shaped openings which led inside to the living quarters of this civilisation’s citizens.  Just before crawling into one and to safety with the extra-tall, White extra-human male’s kindly help, I had noticed this.

They were a different species altogether.  These portals were quite unique in design.  They had the same swirling sense of motion to them as the rock face and architecture.  They were opal-shaped with some larger than others.

These were incredibly beautiful yet simple abodes.  They were as if an air bubble that had been halved, when someone had archeologically sliced through the rock, creating the canyonned wall.

Thus the portals had created the effect of air bubbles, in motion, in any direction that the rock’s pressurised motion had taken them.  There was a lot of bas relief around the portals to the abodes’ entrances.

The face of the canyon was brown-to-grey-coloured and very much so totally, architecturally designed.  What was very interesting here was that, when the man who had come and given me a hand as I had been clinging on terror-struck onto the large sculptural stone pillar, those pillars were much like those oversized pillars in the film Legend, starring, Tom Cruise.

He had guided me around two pillars that were similar to those in the aforementioned film.  As I had been quite close to falling and perishing, cause for concern was understandable.

At the time I had thought,

‘My god, what if I fall?  I am not like the citizens here in this civilisation of their dimension.’

This, I thought, even though lucidly aware that I was dreaming and therefore imbued with the ability to fly in the dreamtime.  The fact is that these citizens, though simian-stocked like we humans are, were shorter extra-humans.

It was the same extra-humans race, one of whom I encountered in the streets of Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts, in the interspecies, starfaring dream encounter on November 25, 1990, which inhabited this far-off civilisation to which I have starfared.

As a result, here was I paying a visit to the home world from which that dreaming, spacefaring extra-human had originated.  It was as though, for having been accepting of this interdimensional, ensouled dream traveller, I was then welcome and open to have made the transit to his dimension and reciprocally experience his world.

Indeed, the simple eloquence of causality validated here.  For having lovingly accepted this visitor’s soul quality, I would have the universe repay me with a voyage to his home world’s richness of spirit.  This world seemed to be situated in another dimension.

Perhaps, it may even have been here on this particular planet in another time.  Perhaps, this extra-human civilisation predated us – here on Earth – by some three million years or one and one half million years ago.

It was, however, an evolutionary path along which humanity branched off or one in which humanity exists pursuing a probable reality – one wherein we have the capacity of flight.  Here was I enjoying a visitation dream to this wonderful lush, lush world of theirs.

Merely all that the people had to do, who lived in these portalled abodes in the canyon wall, was leap from the portal entrance of their caved dwellings to take flight.  As a result of the constant wind currents, inside the partially sealed canyon, they were able to ride the circulating wind currents down to the rest of the canyon-city below.

For that matter, they could just as easily ride these wind currents, back up to their dwellings in the canyon wall.  It would not have been difficult for them to have ascended from the metropolis mount way down in the canyon.

They simply glided when in flight, for the most part, since the winds here were so heavy and controlled.  When they wanted to ride a particular wind current, however, they would have to energetically flap their wings to get into the groove of the particular current.

There was a great sense of beauty to these creatures as they were constantly gliding when in flight.  Wherever you looked, there were extra-human persons effortlessly gliding through the air in winged flight.

The air currents that circled on the periphery of the canyon were the cooler currents.  Those air currents were exclusively used when descending from the dwelling portals down to the mount, the valley and agricultural encircling mountains below.

Near the centre, above the agrimountains and the central Machu Pichu-like mount, the heats generated enabled the winged simians to ascend and circle upwards – like soulful eagles coasting upwards in circling flight – en route back to their portalled canyon dwellings.

They were simply majestic, when in flight, like a race of ensouled cranes.  Each much resembled an eagle, with its wings spread, slowly soaring through the air.

There was such beauty to their movement for it was so slow, timeless and graceful.  You could keenly sense them navigating their way through the crosscurrents and constantly measuring the wind currents.

Going up was simply beautiful because all they would have to do was arch their backs.  With wings not fully extended, pulled forward towards and ahead of them, they would ride one of the warm air currents.  They would be arched up and back.  It was simply incredible to have witnessed this.

There was such utter beauty to their graceful lives.  I was simply inspired and moved beyond belief.

At the entrance to the canyon, there was always a fierce, cool wind current that came in off the lush, canopied rainforest.  It then spilled into the canyon and fell, immediately circling the periphery of the near-circular canyon on its way to the bottom.

It was interesting to fathom how these wind currents were used.  If one wanted to get to the very built-up metropolis, at the peak of the Machu Pichu-like mount, one had to ride the winds down further than the top of the peak.

One then moved away from the periphery of the canyon, which at that level was the sloped up encircling mountain range, thereby entering the warm updraughts.  Thus one was then able to soar one’s way back up towards the central mount’s peak or anywhere on its incline to the top.

Conversely, when returning from the peak way below to one’s portalled dwelling in the rock face, one rode the warm currents for considerably higher than the level of the portal to the desired dwelling.  Then, as below, the shift was made circling outwards to catch the downward circulation of cooler winds.

Thus one got down to the desired portal on the periphery of the counterbalanced wind currents.  This was a truly marvellous and orderly mode of travelling.  Everywhere that one looked, there were innumerable winged extra-humans gracefully circling.  They were either going upwards or flying downwards.

Looking down to the canyon floor below, I could see the effects of the turbulent storms from the way trees on the central mount and mountains were being swayed and effortlessly snapped.  This awareness arrived at after having noticed that, all of a sudden, there were not as many of the winged simians flying through the air.

It was a really violent storm that heavily imprinted on the lush rainforest way below.  At one point, looking down, I got the thrill of my life on seeing this particular giant mango tree.

I was immediately energised by it.  It so reminded me of the mango tree that I had planted.  It made me wonder if, in fact, this experience was not inspired by that wonderful act of selfless sharing that had moved me to have planted that mango seed from Nevis which resulted in the mango tree.

It was quite beautiful to have seen and it proved rather calming in the process.  These extra-human little men kept their long black hair tied back in ponytails – both males and females actually.

The women carried their young on their backs during flight.  It would seem, from the commonality, that they bore twins each pregnancy.  There was a lot of screaming and screeching – their screeching, interestingly, sounded like that of birds of prey rather than a humanoid register.

Rather high-pitched were their cries.  This was the case for both sexes.  The screams occurred when, sometimes down close to the canyon’s bottom, they would be caught in a violent gust and sent crashing through the air.  The winds, during this storm, were very, very turbulent.

They never did crash to the ground but the initial displacement elicited the piercing screams.  They would then quickly recover after a sudden drop of a few hundred feet.  Then again, this could very well have been a form of sport to ride the stormy winds – akin to surfing the waves during a hurricane.

This was the initial reason why I had become terrified because, on having witnessed this, I had suddenly become aware of my own vulnerability.  Although I knew that it was a dream and I therefore could fly, I was still afraid to have possibly found myself caught in one of those violent gusts that slapped one into an air pocket.

I had freaked out when thinking that it was soon enough going to happen, up here at these heights, yet here was I without wings.  If I were to have attempted to fly, this undoubtedly meant that I would crash to the ground.

It was at that point that, as my fears were unwittingly telepathically projected, the unusually tall, White extra-human male had come and lovingly extended me his hand.

The height of this man suggested that, although he looked human-enough, he just may have been like all others aboard the arriving shuttle not human but an extra-human.

He had courageously taken me by the hand, around the corner of the massive stone pillars, to the safety of one of the many portalled abodes’ interior.

On entering, it was as though you were inside a building.  The cave immediately sloped down with the cool stone wall concavely carved out to the floor that was some feet below.  There was a gangplank walkway, directly from the perpetually open portal, to the main floor sunken a bit lower than the entrance.

This feature was so that when the perpetually cool winds entered the portal they would then, following the line of the sloping interior, fall into this deep trough that encircled the entire parametres of the dwelling.

Somehow, the wind would then be used here, to create circulation and was recycled inside the dwelling.  All throughout, the walls of the dwelling as well as down in the trough, there were tiny swirling-looking portals in the rock which allowed for the winds to be released.

Excess cool winds from unusually strong winds entering, like at present during one of the canyonned metropolis’s fierce storms, were readily dispersed through the tiny swirling-looking rock portals.  In this way, you would never have the dwelling inundated by gale force gusts.

This was a very, very intelligently evolved civilisation whose dwellings were very intelligently, functionally designed.  It made such perfect sense, on entering, to have seen the trough system.

This was again repeated, at the centre of the circular dwelling, such that you had the creation of counter circulating wind currents indoors as outside in the canyonned civilisation.  This was so revolutionary – practicality and functionality perfectly harmonised.

There was a central column on the inside of the dwelling thus making it tepee-like or tent-like, if you like, though it was a pure rock interior.  In this particular dwelling whoever the host family was I did not see.

The extra-human man, who had extended his arm to me, was very much wrinkled and very, very skeletal.  He was much like that race of people was.  I knew it was the same extra-human race as I had encountered, a month earlier, in the dream streets of Sandy Point, St. Kitts.

However, I never did have a face-to-face encounter in this dream as in the first encounter weeks earlier.  Nonetheless, I was able to recognise this EH species from the earlier dream.

During the dream, I had total refamiliarisation with the dream – on November 25, 1990 – a month earlier.  I was warmed by the remembrance of the lone extra-human’s soulful warm eyes of a month earlier.

Though this was not the case during the course of the dream, I had the sense that from time to time – either seasonally or at controlled times – a mighty river was allowed to enter the canyon by way of the entrance that I had used when in the shuttle craft.

The waterfall would be quite massive and would fall the five-if-not-more miles to the slopes below that formed the civilisation’s agricultural belt.  I can’t imagine how beautifully thunderous the sounds of such a towering waterfall would be.  This was a truly magical world.

The waterfall would provide added moisture and a fresh clean source of water for the entire canyonned civilisation.  I would imagine that during the waterfall the mist it created also would generate temporary cloud systems within the canyon.

This was a most beautiful civilisation.

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Photo: Machu Pichu, Peru.

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

The Dreamer Awakens.

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This dream occurred, on Monday, December 7, 1992, whilst the Moon transited both my twelfth house – appropriately enough – and Taurus.  Merlin my mentor had initiated in me the task of coming into my own and becoming the awakened warrior.

Here was I, dream magus, awakened warrior displaying my power – bonding with nature and bonding with the very force itself.  Said dream was the first experienced in exquisite lucidity in the ‘B’ or second sleep phase that day.

A yard at late twilight when morning breaks, rather than the indeterminate light that pervades astral plane dreams, was the setting for this dream.  It seemed pretty much like the backyard of the Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts house.

I was in a tree that looked like a giant bugweed.  I stepped out onto one of its branches.  Whilst simultaneously in the body and astrally projected, somehow, I could see myself from behind and above.

This dream began as I boldly, in mid-stride, walked towards the large soulful tree.  Here, I had incredibly long hair and it was totally white.

The snow-white mane went down to the small of my back.  Mine – it was no absurd weave.  Full and luscious, it was a massive mane that handsomely flared out.

Here, I met the dream magus within.  I held a staff which was very wonderful.  It was made of a tanned polished wood.  As if something that Bill Reid would bring forth from the depths of his creative genius, it was a very sculptural staff.

Like a totem, the staff had lots of symbols throughout its length.  In some of the grooves, there were several large crystals with some of various colours.  Like Merlin did, in our first dream encounter of 1978I, I wore a long, white flowing robe that billowed in the wind.

Whilst radiating much of my inner light, I was very regal.  This was a moment of stellar beauty; too, the sight of myself empowered blew me away.  It was so humbling.

I had a long beard and drooping moustache.  It was also white and considerably longer than Merlin’s facial hair ever was. As a matter of fact, it was like the flowing, wispy beards of some Japanese and East Asian holy men.

On going out to the edge of the branch, I stabbed my staff into the tree and let out a war cry.  Almost immediately thereafter, a fierce wind picked up.  It was gale-forced.

The sky became blackened with mushrooming, heavy grey clouds.  The branch, on which I stood, was no more than four feet off the ground.  The winds were so fierce that it felt as though I were out to sea.

I regally stayed my ground as though the captain at the bow of a galleon – one being swept by fierce waves.

Whilst anchored on the branch, all I held on to was the staff.  With my free hand, I held on to a branch on the left – of course, the branches moved with a life of their own.

The tree was partially submerged in the gut that bordered the back of the Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts property.  Looking across the gut, I had been facing due north.

The winds were so fierce that I could never see to the other side of the gut.  What’s more, it was a much wider gorge than Crab Hill’s.  Besides which, I had no time to project that far.

For one thing, the winds were too fierce and for another, the task of staying atop this branch proved far too demanding.  This wind was fiercer than anything I had ever experienced.

The saving grace of it all was that it was not, thankfully, a wintry wind.  The funny thing about the whole experience was that I had called forth the elements to energise my being.

So in tune with nature was I, I was able to summon the gale-force winds at will.  I wished to align with nature’s empowering, life-sustaining energies.  I was fiercely enjoying the charge from it screaming aloud and becoming transfixed.

It truly was as if being stationary whilst flying at hyper-speeds in an upright position.  Thus there was the dual sense of being not only on the high seas but also as if riding on a magic carpet.

There was one point that, as I screamed into the wind, I immediately then saw my face from above.  Whilst simultaneously astral-projected, I was looking down into my face as I looked up into the billowing clouds.

Beyond those clouds, there was some spectacular planet-being; it was much like the one that I thrillingly encountered in the dream earlier this year, on Tuesday, September 22, 1992.

This was quite an exhilarating experience.  I felt a massive surge of energy flowing through the staff and into me.  The staff was marvellously potent.

The look of the staff was a mélange of the creative geniuses of the artists, Bill Reid, Antoni Gaudí and Erté.  A very shamanic, magical totem it was.

My face was so high-foreheaded and timeworn.  A face that had spanned several millennia, to date, it certainly was.  More than that, there they were my familiar, papaya-seed-succulent brown eyes.  Here, they were large, supra-dilated eyes.

Looking down, I noticed that the branch was no more than eight inches across.  This had caused me to passingly fear having to lose my balance and falling.

Having the staff I was, however, quite anchored.

I was grounded within the eye of the storm itself.  Though there was no lightning, there was a definite sense that a great deal of potent magic was exploding in back of the ominous clouds.

I had a ton of energy.  I was a fierce, spiritual warrior-spirited shaman.

*Indeed, the dream magus was awakened.  This was the most beautiful experience to have had – to have drunk of my very soul itself.  Though an older version of myself in this lifetime, this shamanic dream magus was also a mélange of the two shamans whom I had been in previous lives.

These two shamans were encountered in the dreams of Sunday, April 25, 1993 and the other shaman in the dreams of Sunday, April 10, 1993.  There was something about my face, in this dream, which was informed by the look and vibration of both the shamans encountered in these two prior dreams.

The first shaman, a past life of mine, had lived in French Guyana at the colonial fortress and cared for the community.  Additionally, he tended to monkeys and sloths.

The other was a West African shaman and also a definite past life of mine.  He, of course, took to this cocoon-like mould which was hung in trees when questing.  I had seen both their eyes and immediately recognised them as former selves of mine in past lives.

Dreams truly are the poetry of the Soul.  END. 

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Photo: Angel oak tree.

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

Past-Life Dream Set In Intrigue-Filled Dynastic Egypt.

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This dream, set in dynastic Egypt, deftly betrays what a powerfully focussed and strong woman Harella was.  The dream was first that day.  

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I was seated on a wonderful divan in a beautifully opulent place.  Instinctively, I knew that this was in Egypt.  It was during the height of pharaonic Egypt.

There were two stout women here with me who were light-skinned.  Hard to tell whether they were Mitanni or light-skinned Blacks.  They were cooks and were fussing over me asking me to eat up.

I ate from a plate which had these different shoots on it.  One of them was papyrus shoots, some bamboo shoots and a wild Nile delta mushroom.  It was strictly vegetarian fare.

As well, there was a purplish tuber like baby eggplants.  I ate with a fork which was very heavy-looking.  Clearly, I did possess some rank at birth.  I would point out the items I wanted to eat next and would then have it fed to me by either woman.

At one point, I was told by one of the women,

“Yes, you even remember what your favourites were last time.”

At this point, into the room walked a tall Black woman of Ethiopian features and complexion but who was not too dark.  Definitely, she was from the Upper Nile region.

I can’t quite do justice here as to how supremely regal this woman was.  She was quite simply the most regal and powerful creature imaginable.

The two eyes that this woman wore were large, brown and soulful.  You felt her soul itself looking out and into you.

I did not think of her as having been Merlin in a past life.  However, it is quite possible that this woman’s soul I knew quite recently as Merlin during its last incarnation.

When she entered the room, the women looked at each other and one of them said in a sotto voce,

“Ah yes, she’s brought him with her.”

There was a Black man, who was a little darker-complected, there with her.  Seemingly a relation or priest, perhaps, he might even have been a eunuch.

He remained in an outer room.  She was quite simply the Queen, the Pharaoh’s wife.

On entering, she began walking around us and speaking.  She was very stylised in her movements.  She wore a tunic of gold thread and strips of gold filigree.

In places, her dress looked metallic.  In its sparse, linear, understated opulence, it seemed not unlike something that Cynthia McFadden would design.

The dress throughout was festooned with the designs, all in gold, of open papyrus leaves.  They were very tiny and sat inside of little squares.

In one square there would be a papyrus applied, such that it would be very iridescent, whilst on the next square it was very dull with a matte finish look to it.  The resulting effect was one of row after row, square after square, of papyruses.

Each square was exactly half an inch square.  The detail on this dress was absolutely golden.  It was supported by half-inch-wide straps which, of course, had the same square papyrus design.

Next to her flawless complexion, she was simply statuesque.  Her neck was easily six to ten inches longer than the infamously long neck of Ann Cokossi, Princess of Togo – the regal lady’s neck was longer than Iman’s.  Iman was clearly descended from the same stock.

It was not Iman.  She did have long hair that was finely braided in the fashion of a Maasai male’s.  The hair was swept up off her face and into a very intricate arrangement.

There were several beads throughout her stylised hair and some of them were cowrie beads.  There were other shells and some precious stones as well.

Her makeup was exquisitely applied and clearly was a several-hour affair.  The eyes, of course, were the most detailed.

I really did not get a sense of it being the famous Nefertiti Akhenaten.  However, the man that she was with was undesirable and totally untrustworthy.

I got the sense that it was someone related to me, as in myself, in a past life.  He never did enter the room.

Whilst speaking with the woman who sat there on the chair feeding me, the queen kept on slowly gliding about the room.  This woman was like the Queen Mother or, perhaps, the dowager.

Whilst she spoke, I was beginning to become refamiliarised with the palace intrigue.

Throughout the salon, where we sat, there were a whole series of spies.  Soon enough, I could discern the holes throughout the walls so that the spies could get a good command of what was going down.

There was a great deal of subterfuge here.  There was a whole caste of spies.  There were spies who were in the service of the priesthood.  Spies of the Queen’s and still there were spies of the Pharaoh’s.

Still there were spies of the harem among which were a subclass and more powerful caste of spies for the eunuchs.  In addition, all the different levels of the royals had their own battery of spies.

All about the room, every one of those holes had a designated spy who reported back to his dynastic figurehead in the hierarchy.

This was a very brief dream, I must add here.  However, it was very lucid, real and totally lived-in a dream.

I had a sense of being there in time.  It was not just an observer dream.  I was really in the body of that royal child who could have been no more than six years old.

This occurred at nighttime and it was somewhat damp in the room though simultaneously briny from the arid desert air.  The whole language was about intonation and innuendo.

As a matter of fact, the whole language was so ritualised and stylised that it was more slow and subtle than is movement in the Noh theatre of Japan.  This was all about gestures and the myriad gestures that could be implied from the relations of one gesture juxtapose to another.

It took me awhile to get the knack of it.  However, I became totally lucid as to what was going down.

It all came back to me.  Indeed, even at the age of six, I was already quite proficient in the nuances of this very complex court language.

As she spoke, the Queen’s arms and other parts of her body would be perpetually in motion.  It was danced – this language.  The whole language was codified and layered beyond anything wildly imaginable in this day and age of superficiality.

This was deception on the order of high art.  What was spoken was mere camouflage.  The spoken word was not even an nth of the layered language.

Along with it, what her body was doing and the subtlety of movements indicated what was really implied by what was said.  More to the point, it was what was not implied by what was not said.

By comparison, the most sophisticated Parisienne would be considered a primitive communicator.

This was all very complex court politics, indeed.  Then, at one point, the Queen went and stood thereby freezing her movement and this is what one had to try and discern.

This was because the every placement of every limb and muscle, on her body, carried great impact by way of what was being communicated.  This was very much so an African tongue being spoken here.

At times, it was slow whilst at other times dizzyingly sped up and rapid fire.

*It seemed more closely to resemble Jazz vocalesing à la Betty Carter sophistication though, truth be told, even Betty Carter’s skills were primitive by comparison.  I can’t impress enough how truly complex was this language and mode of communicating.  END.

Yet I got the complete picture of what she was communicating.  The Queen was speaking of the child – my six-year-old former self.  I feigned ignorance at the time though it was obvious that I was the subject of discussion.

This had to do with the care of the child.

“How was the child coming along?” she had inquired.

I could very well have been her child.  It was obviously the custom for royal children to be separated, from their mothers at birth, the higher placed they were at birth.

I was here in this dream, of a past life experience, in the care of two women who were as if wet-nurses/governesses to me.

At another point, the Queen had produced this papyrus fan from beneath the delicate folds of the heavy-looking dress.

It was a plain fan made of papyrus.  However, it was covered in hieroglyphs.  This was also a very ancient fan which she had inherited.

The fan was being strategically used, as part of the deceptive code, to foil the spies all about the room.  When coming closer to us, the Queen had smiled a very bland smile in my direction.

This was, of course, so that nothing whatsoever could be read into it by any of the spying factions.  The Queen slowly leaned in to look at the food that I ate.

Inspecting it, she offered the gesture of showing her trust in the cooks by taking a piece of shoot from the plate to eat.

This was all theatre for as she had slipped the food to her mouth she waved the fan over her mouth whilst saying, in rapid-fire sotto voce, a couple of very strategic sentences.  It was absolutely sublime.

It was directed at the dowager Queen Mother who, for being more practised in the art, feigned utter ignorance of anything so paranoid as subterfuge.  It was priceless!

This was clearly the height of late young soul to early mature soul intrigue.  Though she could never have been overheard in saying what she had, the fan was placed to prevent the visiting Queen being lip-read.

These spies, after all, were very expert.  I do recall one man having been seated across from me earlier.  He was a spy and basically he was visiting to learn the every minutia of my mouth mechanics during speech.

It was all very subtle, though very archly shrewd and deadly, the way in which he came to do his job and record my mouth’s every idiosyncrasy during speech.

The queen had performed, in that one gesture, such a winning sleight of hand.  She was letting the Queen Mother know that she trusted her by actually tasting the food that she was feeding the child – me, in that past life.

It seemed, after all, to be an impromptu visit which means that the food could well have been laced with poison for unsuspecting me.  I suppose that if it were necessary, I could have been eliminated by the dowager Queen Mother or the Queen herself.

When she had directly stood in the centre of the room, earlier, the Queen had picked up her right foot off the floor.  She had very subtly managed not to have shifted her weight or allowed for any movement whatsoever in her upper body.

The Queen then began doing what seemed a predecessor of the frappé and began horizontally waving her foot from the ankle.  The movement betrayed a gesture akin to ‘no’.  This, of course, did not in the least betray everything that was going on elsewhere in her body.

As there were so many items of furniture about the room, it was obvious that from where the holes were placed in the walls that one could not make out the codified foot movements.

This was so mind-bogglingly delicious.  The foot being incorporated, in the language, was a most clever invention.

The moment at which she picked up her foot, it was as though I had sat up awake in bed.  It was that vividly recalled from past life experience.

‘Yes!’ I thought to myself and laughed a small breath which the dowager Queen Mother, to my side, immediately stifled with a sharp intake of breath.

One clearly did not laugh in the Queen’s presence.  The subtleties of the language here, in this point in dynastic Egypt, were phenomenally stratospheric.

This was communication taken to heights unheard of since, in any court life, on this planet.

There were times as she slowly moved about the room that the Queen had ritually placed the fan to her beguiling face, to fan herself, whilst letting out little phrases for us to hear.

On one occasion, her back was to us and her arm in back made a series of quick gestures that were not unlike sign language.  Meanwhile, the fan was to her face giving us a double stream of code to simultaneously decipher.

To the point of being frightening, the Queen was very deceptive.  It was hard to ever see her eyes.  The Queen used language such that the eyes could never have been seen.

More could be read from her eyes adding to what she was saying.  For this reason, she almost exclusively kept her lids such that it kept her gaze cast out and down to the floor.

Her head, of course, was never lowered and the rapid eye movements which she employed were also very strategic.  When she spoke, one was never to make eye contact with her.

It would imply too much simply because we were being spied on.  This was indeed a very restrictive existence.

There we were, in a fish bowl of sorts, being spied on by sharks who completely surrounded us waiting their turn to hungrily make prey of us.  Since she was the Queen, one could never look at her eyes.

However, I was possessed of more than my six-year-old self making me a very probing and curious soul.  The Queen picked up on this and was acutely made uncomfortable by it.

It was as though there was now some new development in my maturation which spelt trouble.  Naturally, you just knew that there was any number of long discussions to come as to what to do with this ‘one’ meaning my poor, possessed self.

It was as though, for having stepped into my former self’s six-year-old body, I could have spelt his very untimely and not accidental death.  Regardless, this woman and I were deeply connected.

I could sense from her a real familial, maternal even, bond.  The Queen was very much so in tune with me.  There was an element of this communication which was low-level telepathic.

Indeed, there were times when she had thusly engaged me.  It was chiefly done for putting me at ease.  It was also how she had to stay bonded to me for having had me taken from her, of custom, at birth.

What was really interesting here was that the concept of reincarnation was definitely fully accepted and religiously incorporated in the schemata of dynastic life.  The dowager Queen Mother and governess, too, were both convinced that I was someone in the royal family who had reincarnated.

My choice of food favourites were validation enough for them.  I was very much so favoured by the Queen.  She was warm towards me.

However, she never physically expressed this.  There was always, however, a very strong psychic fusion between us with most of the energies coming from her to me.

She was connected to me – this much was unmistakable.  I never did see the eunuch who had accompanied her, however, he was very powerful an influence in their lives.

For this reason, more so than the placement of the spies, the Queen never once was demonstrative of her feelings towards me.  She did let up on reaching towards the plate of food.

One had the sense, of the eunuch who had accompanied her, that he was the one person who had connections to all the spying factions within the inner royal circle.  He waited outside in the antechamber and his presence was more closely being paid attention to, than even the Queen’s, at times.

There had also been musicians about the room playing music.  This was simply to drown out the conversation being heard by the battery of spies.

The musicians were placed along all four walls to really drown out the conversation.  This then precluded conversation from making it to the periphery of the room and the spies just beyond its walls.

This was a very palatial suite.  It was dimly lit and sparsely decorated yet in the finest style.  A very comfortable and socially elevated milieu it was.  A most elevated dream experience.

*As it is the forty-fifth anniversary of Merlin’s birth, I had asked prior to sleep in a lengthy meditation, to become opened up to experiencing aspects of a past life experience between Merlin and me.

I asked only that it be of a positive nature and that it be in no way an unpleasant experience.  The last thing that I wanted was to have some dream which mirrored the less pleasant aspects of Merlin’s end-of-life experience.

Voilà, there it was – a most vivid, awakened dream experience.  I have no idea which person here could have been Merlin.

I fully identified with the six-year-old and, indeed, I was experiencing the dream inside his body and, at times, from a detached perspective.  Then, too, I did identify with the much-feared eunuch outside the door.

So I don’t know if he was me or, perhaps, even Merlin.  The very loving energies of the Queen Mother could more easily have been Merlin, in a past life, than the Queen herself.

**The musicians about the room, against the far walls, were all distinctly Nubian.  They were exquisitely beautiful and the quirk that they each had was that they were, for obvious reasons, each of them both blind and deaf.

This, of course, did not detract from their stellar musicianship; at times they did sing.  However, for being both blind and deaf they could not be expected to be picking up on any of the codified language and body signals that formed this most layered of spied-on, palace intrigues in dynastic Egypt.

I should think, too, that this was at the heights of the Middle Kingdom before the advent of Akhenaten’s ascension.  This sort of intrigue, and frankly rut, is precisely what he was likely sick of and seeking to escape when initiating his monotheistic religion.

Of course, with so much centuries-old intrigue, clearly he would have been seen as the ultimate obstruction – a heretic who had to be annihilated at all costs and things righted in his demise.  This, of course, is precisely what did take place.

Again, despite the vogue since the nineteenth century to make a truly African civilisation anything but, everyone one and everything here was distinctly African: the music, the looks, the sense of fashion, styles and hair styles.

The Queen’s eyes were not only phenomenally powerful but her head had that distinctly African/Black high-foreheaded look.  The Queen’s neck was almost giraffe-like.

She made Iman look no-necked by comparison.  END.

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Photo: Supermodel Iman.

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