Do It to Me!

Lena!

Horne, Lena 30/6/1917 <O> 9/5/2010 NYC

This fragment was a fifth level mature warrior – 4th life thereat.  Lena was in the power mode with a goal of unmitigated growth.  She was a sceptic who was in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Lena’s primary chief feature was exalted arrogance with a secondary chief feature of stubbornness.

Lena’s casting is in the second position of the second cadence in the seventh greater cadence.  She is a member of entity six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 – another entity mate.

Lena’s was a Saturn/Venus body type.

Essence twin for Lena is a warrior and her king task companion did exert some influence.

The three primary needs for Lena were: expression, power and exchange.

There are 10 past-life associations between Lena and Arvin whilst there are 7 past-life associations with Merlin.

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Back in Spring, 1994, I was standing in my West End, Vancouver bedroom getting dressed – after having made dinner for Bower Carlyle-St. Clare and me.  At the time, he was recently full-blown with AIDS but doing well.  As he sat out in the living room in the rocking chair which had been Merlin’s favourite piece of furniture, I was busily getting ready to head off to work on the midnight shift.

Just then Ross Porter, who was gigging on the CBC’s late-night Jazz show, began introducing a recently released album.  I screamed and rushed out to the living room, turned up the sound to full blast and directly stood in the centre of the perfectly placed speakers.

Said Ross Porter, it was a new album by Lena Horne – a cut of which he was nicely setting up.  Since as long as I could remember, this woman’s every performance always made me feel good throughout.  The opening of the song, Do Nothing ‘Till You Hear from Me, began with the bass working its magic.

For the next several minutes, I stood there flying-without-moving.  Admiringly, Bower sat there silently drinking in the visual of me as I stood in black stretch jeans tucked into riding boots and nothing else with hair long and out.

with lids closed, I drank every note of the performance; I was truly besotted.  Then the song got really groovy and at one point, just past the four-minute mark, simultaneous with Lena Horne, I let out the exact same whoop as she did.  Stunned, I placed my hands at my mouth and threw open my eyes.

Bower was convinced that I had heard the recording before.  Soon enough, Lena Horne’s album, We’ll Be Together Again, was blasting my West End apartment on a daily basis.  One day, Bower called up and declared that we were going to New York – he had never been.

To hell with work, he had declared as I tried begging off.  Not having it, Bower shot back that he was taking me to New York City because I knew it and always spoke so fondly of my time there.

Early October rolled around and we held up at the Hotel Chelsea – he had booked the suite as he knew that it was Merlin’s favourite place to stay in New York City.  We went to the show and although, he had been hoping to see Diana Ross – chiefly why he wanted to go to New York City, we ended up having a blast at the performance way up in the balcony.  The next day, I stood around in Times Square and scored us tickets to, Kiss of the Spider Woman, at the Broadhurst Theatre.

A couple of days later and we were returned to Vancouver as giddy as two kids who had just had the wildest adventure.  Sadly, for being full-blown, Bower developed a nagging cough which dragged on for long weeks; nonetheless, it was a magical adventure and I was especially grateful that he had made possible, the trip to see Lena Horne in concert at Carnegie Hall.

As Diana Ross was his favourite performer, every film of hers he had taped.  He understood my love of Lena Horne when finally, he took the time to appreciate her performance in, The Wiz – directed by her partner Sidney Lumet.

Back in 1978, when seeing, The Wiz, on its opening weekend with Owen Hawksmoor – a man of truly equine proportions – This brief appearance and performance by Lena Horne made the film for me; everyone else paled by comparison.

Back in 1969, whilst vacationing in St. Croix, U. S. Virgin Islands, one briny Friday evening the 1943 film, Stormy Weather, was on television.  This was my first introduction to Lena Horne.  I was thoroughly captivated by her.

My response to her has always been visceral; she is energising, captivating – her eyes both raptor-like and thoroughly empowering to lock on to.  If there was no essence bond, it is highly improbable that I would have such an intensely visceral response to her.

I then found it hard to sleep that night after the film.  Not surprisingly, in light of our essence bond as entity mates, I did that night dream of her.  Furthermore, I have noticed that the passing of entity and cadre mates leaves me especially splayed – I don’t feel impending doom, I just feel as though a portal has opened up and I could drift off and find myself on the other side… an astral plane habitué.

I think that because of my casting’s cardinality, I tend to act as a beacon – somehow, I tend to sense when cadre mates are on the cusp of departing.  This used to be fairly frightening when younger; now, I have learnt to simply give of self and realise that someone in the fold is moving on.  

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

Two Men In the Studio.

Two Men In the Studio

Oil on Canvas

185.4 x 120.7 cm

1987-1989 Lucian Freud

Masterful.

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If only I had begun audiocassette-recording the dreams on awaking prior to February 1989.  In mid-1987, I had the most lucidly awakened dream encounter with the artist, Lucian Freud.  I had been in a flying dream and instinctively knew that I was in London.  On alighting, I moved through a woodsy artist studio and found there the artist himself.

To better absorb his process, I had rendered myself invisible and remained in a corner whilst onlooking.  Without a doubt, I had dreamquested to a session for which both men – the subjects of this canvas – sat for this painting.  Of course, at the time, I was then a muse and lover to master printmaker and painter, George Hawken.  This was an immensely fulfilling time in my life; it was also rather adventurous as I was then quite happily ensconced in my relationship with Merlin.

Suspecting that he was ill with AIDS, Merlin had long canned our physical relationship.  Since I was in my 20s and one of my three primary needs is adventure, I most unashamedly roamed and salaciously ploughed the town.  Along with Francis Bacon, Lucian Freud’s masterful work has always fascinated me.  Not surprised then was I to have recently discovered that the trigger for that 1987 dream was the fact that we are entity mates.

Here’s to you and as ever sweet dreams and thanks for your ongoing support.

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

Man Changing into Thunderbird VI of VI

20150609_123817[1]

Oil on Canvas

© 1977 Norval Morrisseau

Provenance: The Leitz Collection,

Art Gallery of Ontario.

http://www.ago.net/

Love these works especially more so as they have been recently relocated within the gallery; they are better displayed now.  A true shaman of the first order, Norval Morrisseau.

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

Summer Solstice Vision Quest.

06-2-stan-bevan-b

This most magical of dreams fittingly occurred, on June 21, 1994, the summer solstice, whilst the Moon transited both Sagittarius and my seventh house wherein resides my natal Moon.  Too, the dream occurred during the second or B cycle of dream-besotted sleep that day.

It was truly a potent dream and marked my connection to the very soul of the West Coast.  Too, it was about communing with the very soul of the proud First Nations civilisations which for millennia have thoroughly ensouled this truly magical place.  

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There were two large, Amerindian totemic masks which were each three storeys tall.  They were, however, paintings – oil on canvas.  There were seven different tones of maroon and red being used in the depictions.

All were very alive – vibrant colours, even from high up in the air.  On arriving into this most lucid flying dream, I hovered high up in the air above the site.  The light was at an indeterminate time of day.

It seemed high in the north of Canada such that there was briefly no sunlight, for about an hour, before the Sun would rise again.  It was not cold out.  As I flew, I looked from left to right whilst flying over an old growth of ancient majestic cedars.

I flew here as though I were an eagle, searching from left to right, probing the territory.  I was definitely in search of something of great importance.  In that sense, I was restless until being able to finally discover this elusive treasure.

Eventually, I happened on a large clearing in the middle of which were two large canvases.  Between the canvases the earth was plain; it was not covered in any grasses.

The canvases were some forty feet wide and a good fifty feet apart.  They depicted groupings of Amerindian persons engaged in a sacred ritual.

Whilst in flight, slowly looking on at this way below, I was told by my spirit guides that this was the story of the Esquimalt Amerindians.  With that, both canvases immediately came to life.

I was then hovering in the air but within the fabric of both merged canvases. They depicted the same experience which had been halved.

I suppose that the symbolism of this schism would be the result of the rape that these proud people would suffer at the hands of murderous Europe on the rampage.

With the animation of the canvases, there had been a strong breeze that caused them to come together.  Thus the experience was made no longer halved but whole.  This occurred in the midst of the clearing.

An older Amerindian man immediately caught my attention.  He was quite dark-skinned but it was hard to tell whether he was, in fact, male or female.

Long-haired, he had a strong, proud face with a prominent fierce-looking nose.  The kind of face, his was, that I have always found so drop-dead sexy.  It was a face that was not unlike proud Lakota Sioux, Sitting Bull’s.

The ritual involved the same man being initiated in some way.  To the point of the connection being visceral, I really connected with this man.

I initially saw him from above, from the rear, but then I made it to the front of him where I got a good look at his face.  There were elders present who were more elevated than he was.

From my perspective, I had thought that he had been kneeling.  However, it turned out that they were on a raised platform.

I was now directly hovering overhead of the elders and I saw exactly what they were seeing, in his face, whilst he faced them.  There was no way to get around the fact that this man was in a trance.

This was a terribly intense experience.  Including the drummers who played the most hypnotic of rhythms, there were several others about.

A chorus of women sang, all of which was hypnotic, buoying up the initiate’s spirits whilst he was deep in trance.  The old noble being was questing.

*This dream was so intense that I chose not to go into work.  I simply did not want to be around bigoted jerks.

I took to meditating in the pyramid and really opening up to experiencing this place’s true culture and not the upstart, transplanted European culture.

That very day, I went off roaming, feeling the tug of spirit as inspired by that dream.  I would eventually meet Frederick Hinneault, a Cree Amerindian.

We met at the Club Vancouver bathhouse on West Pender Street.  The connection between us, intimately, was simply out-of-body.

Like the old Amerindian, Frederick Hinneault is a grass dancer.  Frederick Hinneault who was so potent and who would stop me cold in my tracks asking me,

“Are you aware that you use sex spiritually?  I don’t know if it’s something that you simply do without being aware of what you’re doing.  Or you were doing it deliberately because you were with me and you could sense that I would understand.

“But it’s very potent and real.  I will say that it was so surprising to get that experience.  It was quite real… you are a shaman.”

I was quite blown away by the compliment but it really was true too.  END.

There in the semicircle was a feather dancer, in full regalia, he was being initiated.  I was greatly moved by this experience.  The women’s singing was tantamount to the function of the griots, doing their thing, in West Africa.

This was a most potent and shamanic of dreams.  This was more than simply being great music, it was great spirituality; it was a great grounded connectedness both with spirit and with nature.

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Photo: Honouring Our Ancestors

Totem poles at Cathedral Grove, Vancouver Island, British Columbia.

© 2008 Stan Bevan.

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

The Avatar Manifests.

hrithik_roshan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Photo: Bollywood actor, Hrithit Roshan.

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

Paradigm shift.

paradim shift

Each time one makes the choice to walk, to become removed from it all, signals a new plateau in one’s spiritual maturation.  This next dream betrays just such a new plateau ascended to.

The Moon was then transiting Pisces and my tenth house.  It was Saturday, March 12, 1994.  The dream in question was the first one that day.  It proved a most illuminating and thus transformative dream…

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I was in a tiny wooden house at night time looking outdoors.  The tiny log cabin was quite cosy and ancient.  Pandora was in the cottage with me.

Lots of Black, wonderfully-spirited playful children were about enjoying themselves.  They were so sweet and refreshingly grounded.  I did so notice that they were exceptionally tiny and looked almost like Pygmy children though not.

Their heads were unusually large with that extended skull in back that’s decidedly African – much like Pharaoh Akhenaten’s was.   They wore pyjamas.  Some of the children were already asleep.

I gathered up the children who were awake and got them readied for bed.  When I was done, I returned to the large window.  I looked outside the window enjoying the platinum moonlight.

Just beyond the lone log cabin, large, soulful moss-covered cedars were everywhere.  In addition, there were thick-leaved trees that looked cactus-like.

Clearly, they were fir trees of some sort.  They were strikingly beautiful.  Too, there were lots of large ferns which looked like they were from pre-historic times.

To the left of my field of vision, as I looked out the window, I noticed the Moon rising.  This was obviously to the east as I faced due south.  When close to the horizon, the Moon was massively oversized.  It was a most beautiful mélange of salmon and pink tonalities.

To have experienced the Moon’s slow hypnotic ascension was the most rapturous adage.  It was as though hearing Richard Strauss‘s Viennese waltz being played considerably slowed down.  It was the most sensually exquisite sensation.

This was not unlike the slow-motioned suspension, when he was on morphine during points in his end-of-life illness, that I witnessed Merlin experiencing.  I was left feeling as though on the edge of where time ceases to exist.

Rapture!  I was experiencing fusion with nature.  I was experiencing love.

I was as if outside of myself and at one with the soul aspect, which the august Moon represented, in this very totemic dream.  With the Moon’s ascent, my senses became oceanic and expansive.  I was psychically blown wide-open and receptive.

As Luna rose in the sky, I could see that in through the trees its size did not really shrink.  As it climbed high in the sky, away from the horizon, it did not seemingly shrink to its usual size.

There was definitely something quite different about this moon.  As it approached the zenith, I increasingly felt more grounded.  I felt, in fact, splayed in place by its massiveness.

I felt no apprehension, however.  The massive Moon’s warm face seemed to be intimately smiling at me.  It had a great deal of presence about it.

Straight away, I was reminded of the Moon’s ensouled quality, as I experienced it in the dreams of early September 1983 whilst living and not very successfully pursuing a dance career in New York City.

There was no mistaking the fact that the Moon, here in this dream, was an ensouled entity with a presence all its own.  Ascending higher still, it lost its fiery tonalities and eventually became a blazingly platinum orb.

It was a beautiful full Moon.  Whilst standing there, I watched transfixed as it began expanding.  On having crossed 45 degrees of arc, it lyrically inched towards the zenith and seemed to wax larger even more.

Instead of seeming to diminish in size, on moving away from the horizon, Luna began growing pregnant.  There was something creatively fecund about Luna with each degree of arc to which it ascended.

The closer to the midnight position it grew, the more pregnant it became.  It was so beautiful to have experienced, yet, I was still surprised at how very large it kept on getting.

Goodness, when it was at 60 degrees of arc, it had grown at least four times as large as the normal full Moon.  I was completely in awe of its beauty.

I was spellbound; my soul itself was lit up by the intense, though soft, silver-white light that drenched the entire area.  Consequently, the log cabin’s interior was being soaked throughout by the intense flooding light.

At about 80 degrees of arc, the massive beauteous Moon came to a stop.  For an infinite pause, Luna hovered in the sky.  Totally enraptured, I reached out my soul itself to dance with this beauteous Moon.

Suddenly, my slow dance was abruptly ended when the Moon novaed.  It was the most incredible, beautiful mind-expanding experience.

This was not a case of the Moon exploding.  It was a spiritual birthing.  It was an unfoldment in which the mind and spirit were harmonised to experience a transformation that was truly transcendent.

This was so unexpected that it was liberating to have experienced it.  The Moon’s quiet seduction had been so complete that, when it novaed so entranced was I at that point, it proved not to have been a traumatic experience.

This was sheer bliss.  Luna, goddess of the night, had novaed.  More importantly, the soul aspect – which the Moon here represented – was directly manifesting to me.

I was reminded of the enlightened face that I saw, when pulling back from Merlin’s head in my cupped-handed embrace, in the lucid vision on July 23, 1988.

I was so lucidly focussed that I experienced the nova in exquisite slow-motion.  As a matter of fact, I think that the Moon’s nova may well have been in slow-motion.  Looking on spellbound, I watched as the fragmented Moon radiated outwards… all 360 degrees.

As a result, pieces of the novaed Moon were directly headed towards Earth.  Resultantly, it seemed that there was one large piece of jettisoned Moon meteor directly headed towards me.

Now everything resumed in normal waking state time.  The intensity of the shift was overwhelming.  Too, the breakneck speeds of the Luna fragments were phenomenal.

The impact of this astrophysical episode was devastating.  The spatial flux created by Luna’s nova was, if you like, tantamount to a localised solar system tsunami.

The fabric of space about Luna, as it were, became suddenly warped.  This resulted in a rippling magnetic wave from the nova’s epicentre.

The jarring intensity only lasted for a moment, however, before that I had experienced the nova in timeless slow-motion.  I was so detached and expansive that I began lucidly experiencing the event, to the point where I was able to isolate each moment of the event, simultaneously viewing it from various perspectives.

Again, to the analogy to the Viennese waltz, it was as though I were able to experience a fugue within each note of the slowed down waltz.  Mind-alteringly intense this was.  This truly was bliss.

This was, for me, absolute fusion with the soul of self – plain and simple.  It was truly a sensory high.

Next, the whole place became totally flooded with pure white light.  Never before had I seen or, more to the point, experienced white light of such an ecstatic intensity.

The light seared through all of nature.  Everything became a sponge which it flooded, soaked and arrested with its aqueous beauty.

Nature became sodden and expansive.  I could feel the arboreal giants about the log cabin respond.  They were as if soaked by a perpetual downpour, for the last few days, as a result of being exposed to the Moon’s novaed light.

Even the log cabin had become x-rayed, as it were, by the light’s intensity.  Too, my body – indeed my entire being – had been infused with the light’s unstoppable power.

That power unmistakably was Love.  To have experienced the light, flooding through my body, was akin to flying at great speeds whilst standing erect.

Whilst standing legs akimbo, all that I could do was hold on to the window frame.  I braced myself against being overwhelmed by this tsunami of love.

As the experience grew in intensity, I was slapped from my inner rapture by the sound of everyone screaming aloud.  All across the globe, humanity was being displaced by the effects of Luna having novaed.

Rushing through the tiny house, I went to look after the tiny kids who were understandably afraid.  As they had been asleep by that point, they were not aware of what was taking place.

Soon Pandora joined me and together, we went about busily gathering up the kids.  Some of the kids had even been sleeping in cupboards, which Pandora had reminded me of, inside the tiny cabin.

She had yelled at me to go get the kids in the cupboards.  When we went to look out the window, I now saw that the one-hundred-foot-plus redwoods were being effortlessly blown over.

It was as though they were miniature trees on a scaled version of the town.  As if it was a movie set that was being filmed, it looked as though the trees were experiencing a great storm of violent magnitude.

Of course, in such a situation, the trees would have been scaled down and miniaturised.  The intensity of the interplanetary tsunami, created by Luna’s nova, began violently snapping the trees.

This was the effect when the magnetic wave had finally reached Earth.  This was a truly cathartic experience.

Throughout the experience, however, I was never fearful.  I simply got caught up in the rapture of the moment and allowed myself to ride the thrilling crest of intense sensations.

The windstorm, that the novaed Moon affected, was beyond anything fathomable in the waking state.  It sounded as if a couple of freight trains were barrelling along, on either side of the log cabin, travelling at speeds in excess of 300 mph.

The fierce windstorms simultaneously occurred across the globe.  They were created as Earth was being momentarily thrown off its axis.

Luna’s nova had created a spatial magnetic wave that shook Earth to its core.  All over the planet, soon enough, there were actual tsunamis.

With Luna’s reduced size, the tides were no longer predictable.  Whilst the planet rotated off its axis, in some cases, the seas became transformed.

As a result, the unstable oceans became giant waterspouts.  In some instances, the displaced oceans were pulled heavenward into outer space.

This created walls of ocean which rose into the air – nothing was secure anymore – total pandemonium and tectonic instability.  The Earth’s gravity had become completely destabilised.

Across the globe, oceans drastically rose.  Still, in some altitudes as though in outer space, one was able to experience weightlessness.

Off in the distance, I could make out a distant ocean, shooting into outer space.  It looked not unlike a giant geyser.  The oceans were becoming as if reversed waterspouts.  Truly fantastical!

Before being pulled back to Earth by gravity, they had risen up only so far.  Even though considerably weakened, there was still some gravity.  The crashing oceans led everywhere to the fiercest rainstorms.

Of course, for being briny rainwater, it meant that there would be widespread damage to most of the rained on vegetation.  There was also massive flooding everywhere.

The interesting thing about the energies here was that one sensed that the lunar effects on humanity, in particular women, were now radically altered.

With Luna’s nova, I became aware that until the transformation women had been subjugated by men.  This was largely affected by the influence of the Moon on them physiologically and psychologically.

Before my eyes, outside the house, I saw women transformed.  They were now as if giants.  They were truly warrior-spirited.

I think that the symbolism, inasmuch as I believe in such a thing as dream symbolism, of this dream was two-fold.

Not only was it about a spiritual awakening; it also gave insights to the imminent climax between male-female sexual tensions.  These transformed women were now as if men; no longer were they to be physically overpowered by men.

Luna transformed allowed women, especially with regards to sexual matters, to no longer be at a physical disadvantage to men.

This does speak to a psychic revolution.  Although, I do believe, the feminist movement with its mercantile edge has gone about this revolution the wrong way.

The current approach has ultimately charged women’s animus to the detriment of women’s health.  There was an almost cannibalistic sensibility to these transformed women in the dreamtime.

One could easily see these Amazons, performing double mastectomies so that they could, take on any foe unhindered.  This is not the psychic revolution that one would hope for.

There is little spiritual uplift, anywhere discernible, with women emerging as the transvestite’s beau idéal.  These were such strong domineering women.

Each of them was in excess of seven feet tall.  They were each mythic and statuesque.  They appeared monstrous, nonetheless, for being so animus-charged.

It was clear, too, that women were no longer regulated by the Luna cycle.  The fragmented Moon had lost much of its tidal effect on Gaia and all its life-forms.

Women were now roaming the Earth as if stark raving mad, to be sure, the ultimate feminist wet dream.  One thing that I picked up on, about these women, was that they had developed large distended clits and labia.

This did, however, cause me on awakening to ponder whether what I had been seeing were not members of a new hybrid human sex.  That is to say, post Luna’s nova, the human race had no defined sex.

Quite simply, there were persons with both sexual organs that were fully functional.  Perhaps, post Luna’s nova, there was one or more gender changes that were naturally occurring during the course of newly hybrid human life.

Beyond all that angst, there was finally a moment of calm.

Everything simply ceased to be in a state of maddening flux.  There had been incredible Earthquake activity across the globe that accompanied all this lunar instability.

To make sure that the kids were alright, I then moved through the tiny log cabin.  I neither saw Pandora again nor, for that matter, the kids.

Once more, I returned to the window to gaze into the sky.  On stepping before the window pane, I let out a sigh of wonderment at the sight of the Moon.

Now, the experience had shifted onto an even higher octave.  By far, this would prove the most beautiful aspect of the dream.

Now, Luna was reduced to a third of its original size.  It was now a much smaller Moon.  Around the novaed Moon, securely hugged in its orbit in a clockwise rotation, was a Luna ring.  A small number of the Luna asteroids were caught in an elliptical orbit but for the most part they were mostly in an equatorial orbit.

The ring was created from the large fragments of Moon rock which had not been lost in outer space.  They had not been large enough to have escaped Luna’s orbital gravity – such as it is.

After the initial pulsation of the nova, the larger rocks fell back towards the novaed Moon.  Some crashed back onto Luna’s surface but others were caught in a ring that orbited the scaled down satellite.

Some undoubtedly had fallen out of Luna’s orbit.  No doubt, some Luna meteors had crashed into Earth.  The Luna meteors only added to the tectonic instability here on Earth.

The majority of the lunar meteors that fell back towards Luna formed an orbital ring.  It was a ring of asteroids that was held in place by Earth’s greater gravity.

The lunar asteroids that formed the ring were the most beautiful sight imaginable.  Luna was, of course, still full.

The uneven, jagged Luna asteroids were now reflecting Sol light.  They created a perpetually sparkling ring of light that was truly kaleidoscopic.

In its expressionism and spiritual evolution, humanity had ascended to a higher octave.  It had been dramatically affected by Luna’s nova.

Humanity’s ascension was adequately reflected by the sight and harmonic vibration of the transformed Luna.  It was truly musical and created greater attunement to one’s spiritual nature.  It was rhapsodic.

To have experienced the ringed Luna was like the most ticklish whisper of hushed strings.  Whilst each jagged Luna asteroid brilliantly glistened, each triggered a musical resonance deep within for having experienced its singular beauty.  Bliss!

Just as bright as the full Moon, the orbital lunar asteroids were a blazing dash of sparkling twinkling colours.  Slowly rotating about Luna, the orbital lunar asteroid ring reflected Sol’s light.

I can’t say enough how beautiful this was.  Still, there was the added element of the ethereal with the twinkling ring of Luna asteroids.  This created a sublime and truly hypnotic effect.

I can’t see how, if this were to happen in the waking state, we as humankind could emerge unaffected.  There is no way that we would not become a better and a more harmonious people.

All this spiritual and physiological evolution thanks to Luna’s new inspiration which, in turn, would greatly enhance humanity’s more evolved qualities.

Quite simply, this was the most glorious stellar sight imaginable.  It was as if there were souls dancing around the transformed Moon.

Luna, it seemed, now served as a nebulous portal that signified our passage into a new humanity.  A new humanity of greater consciousness and harmony this would facilitate.  At least, so I would like to think…

This was so arrestingly beautiful a sight.  This paradigm shift was precisely the kind of revolutionary idea which, in one’s wildest imaginings, could not have been fathomed whilst in the waking state.

Even though it was now diminished in size, one had the distinct impression of the Moon that it had fallen from its orbit.  Than previously it had been, Luna was now in closer proximity to Earth.

I wondered as to what this would mean, for womankind in particular, when Luna was now reduced and ringed with tiny satellites of its own.

I pondered whether or not this had anything to do with human sexual politics, as it were, rather than the maturation of the soul aspect on a personal level.

There was no denying, however, that this was clearly the ushering in of a new age… and high time.  Certainly, all this mercantilist dreck has long served its purposefulness.

I was quite so lucid, standing there before the window pane, observing and pondering so many possible ramifications of all this exciting transformation.

On looking back up at the transformed Luna, I was blown away by this birthing and expansiveness of consciousness – this glorious paradigm shift.

On closing my lids, to better drink in the beauty of the brilliant light’s touch all over my body, I was lucidly drawn awake.

*Luna transformed was as if a much more dense satellite.  Newly reborn, Luna had a halo of light-intense orbiting fragments.

These orbital lunar fragments gave the effect of them being a giant necklace of diamonds that were handsomely setting off the newest and most beauteous face in Sol’s orbit – Luna novaed and transformed.  END.

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Photo: Full Moon digitally enhanced.

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