More Insights to Elizabeth Departed…

Queen Elizabeth II 21.04.1926 _<>_ 08.09.2022

Windsor, Elizabeth 21/4/1926<O>08/9/2022

Michael: This fragment was a third-level mature slave –- second life thereat.  Elizabeth was in the perseveration mode with a goal of dominance.  A realist, she was in the moving part of intellectual centre. 

Body type was Venus/Lunar. 

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

The fragment Elizabeth is fourth-cast in fifth cadence; she is a fragment of greater cadence six.  Elizabeth’s entity is one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418. 

Elizabeth’s essence twin is a slave and the task companion is a priest. 

Elizabeth’s three primary needs were: security, adventure and exchange. 

There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 4 with Merlin.

*Elizabeth is an entity mate of both Prince Harry (5th mature Warrior soul), his wife, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex (mid-cycle mature Artisan soul); these three souls have a bond that is both unshakable and unfathomable to the unaware eye.

Queen Elizabeth II, April 2021

During the early hours of September 10, whilst her body remained at Balmoral Castle, I had a lucid dream encounter with the departed Queen. Clearly, it was set on the astral plane and might even have been set at Balmoral or Holyrood House. The dream was immensely lucid and brief. She was sat in a tiny enclosed area where the walls were at least ten feet high, old stone that were time-blackened and moss-saturated in the cracks. I came to in the dream in mid-stride and realised who it was as I slowly progressed from the interior to the enclosed tiny courtyard that was no more than ten square feet. Sat, she wore a dark, pine green shawl loosely about her drooped shoulders with a predominantly white, flower-enlivened scarf well back from the crown of her head. Her lips were parted and her compacted bottom teeth were visible. Her arms gathered about her, she noticeably shivered and immediately said that it was cold. I did not find it remotely cool and it was, though beautifully lit here, not daytime out. looking off to the right, I saw a large woollen, light blue blanket; I stepped away from her and picked it up, still having said nothing.

Queen Elizabeth II

As I approached anew, I noticed that as she sat on a stone seat in the middle of the tiny courtyard, all around her a thick viscous fluid bled away from her body. It was bronze-coloured and the same thickness as motor oil. The bonze-coloured liquid seemed almost as if possessed of a dull light but a light it was, which was undeniable. Approaching her right side as she sat facing me, I reached around the blanket and was mindful to infuse the blanket with the same intense energy as when laying my hand on actor, River Phoenix’s back during our encounter within 48 hours of his passing in 1993. Frail, shrunken and withered, Elizabeth the departed Queen’s teeth could be heard as she increasingly shivered. Placed fully about her shoulders, I began stepping back away from her and she looked truly grateful. Looking at her aged blue eyes, they slowly began transforming. The Queen’s pupils began expanding, until there was neither blue nor white left to her eyes. Her hair, too, changed colour, becoming brunette with few silver hairs. Readily, I employed a tried and convenient technique. I blinked as she looked directly to me and with that, I effortlessly, lucidly awoke in the blink of the eyes.

https://dreampoetica.com/2021/11/15/homecoming/

Again, here is the dream of Queen Elizabeth’s homecoming on the astral plane. It was had on the eve of HM King Charles III’s November 14, 2021 73rd birthday. It has been my experience that when I have such awakened dreams of persons’ homecoming on the astral plane that person will pass within the year, as has proven the case for Queen Elizabeth II. I am pleased that I took the time to share that dream last November on this blog; I instinctively knew that she would pass within the year. Why pray tell would I dream of her, apart from the fact that she was the most famous human on the planet; we share 6 past-life associations which is considerable since we aren’t even from the same pod. The reason she appeared to be in her mid-to-late 40s when her metamorphosis began to the astral body is that Queen Elizabeth was a third mature slave soul.

Name Entity Cadre Greater Cadre Pod Soul Soul Age

Queen Elizabeth II 1 6 7 418 Slave Third Mature

Meghan Duchess of Sussex 1 6 7 418 Artisan *Mid-Cycle Mature

Prince Harry Duke of Sussex 1 6 7 418 Warrior Fifth Mature

Ennio Morricone 2 6 7 418 Artisan Seventh Mature

Lilibet-Diana 2 6 7 418 Sage Third Mature

Frederik Pohl 2 6 7 418 Sage Second Old

Doria Ragland 3 6 7 418 Slave Fifth Mature

Lionel Richie 4 6 7 418 Sage Fifth Mature

Yukio Mishima 5 6 7 418 Warrior Second Mature

Archie M-Windsor 5 6 7 418 Priest Seventh Mature

Prince George of Wales 5 6 7 418 King Fourth Mature

*All mid-cycle mature lives are extremely difficult, both Meghan, Duchess of Sussex and Marilyn Monroe are classic examples on the world stage of such lives. Mid-cycle only ever occurs at the mature soul age cycle and it always falls between third and fourth mature soul age. As it is difficult, this cycle lasts on average 2-3 lives, though, it can span up to 4 lives. This is where the soul truly divests itself of young soul-focussed consciousness. There is no going back after this cycle and it cannot be made clear enough that these are difficult lives that are lived at mid-cycle mature. Incidentally, like Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, HM Queen Camilla is also mid-cycle mature but a scholar soul. This is why HM Queen Camilla always seems a bit uneasy, at times neurotic, in public but true to her scholar disposition, she is ever going to be associated with literacy and instrumental with the Man Booker Prize.

Front Row L-R: Prince George (fourth mature king), HM King Charles III (seventh mature warrior), HM Queen Camilla (mid-cycle mature scholar), Princess Charlotte (?). Back Row L-R: Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales (fifth mature warrior), Prince Louis (?), HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales (sixth mature warrior), HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex (fifth mature warrior), Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex (mid-cycle mature artisan).

Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales <10> and HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex <9> are both warriors and they are both fifth mature warriors; there is positively no way that these two would not get along; one of the reasons why Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales majored in art history is that more of the brain is used at fifth mature and onwards – it is where the realms of dreams and creativity become pronounced. Each soul level is uniquely focussed in the life lessons undertaken. Someone who is seventh mature, like HM King Charles III <?>, is vastly more old-souled than HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales <6> who is sixth mature; the difference is as vast as if Charles were late mature, which he is, and William were late young – though obviously not. Conversely, William is vastly more mature-souled than both Henry and Catherine who are fifth mature. In the above photograph here is how the Windsors stack up with regards the agedness of soul. HM King Charles III is seventh mature and thus the oldest soul of the lot, though, to be fair as neither HRH Princess Charlotte of Wales <?> and HRH Prince Louis of Wales <?> overleaves are known by me, we work with the others in the photograph. HM King Charles III is older-souled than HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales, who in turn is older-souled than both Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales and HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex. Those two fifth mature warriors are in turn, older-souled than HRH Prince George of Wales <4> who is a fourth mature king soul. Prince George in turn is older-souled than both HM Queen Camilla <10> and Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex <4>, who are not only both mid-cycle mature, they are also both on their third life at that level. Third-level lives attract a lot of animus by nature. Incidentally, HRH Prince George of Wales is an entity mate of the Sussexes’ firstborn, Archie. Archie is a seventh mature priest soul <6> on his second life. I cannot state enough how immensely radiant of inner beauty Archie is and he will always have an uplifting effect when he walks into a room. It is a testament to the Sussexes’ love that Archie’s soul chose to be their firstborn. Regardless of anything else, for being entity mates, Prince George will also relish Archie’s counsel and find true guidance when they commune; entity mates are truly family. Priest souls are rather rare only less rare than king souls and they leave a strong impression.

*<10> as in the case of Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales, such numbers in arrow-shaped brackets represent number of past-life associations shared between that person and me. HM King Charles III is in pod 404; I requested his overleaves when learning that he was an entity mate of artist Robert Bateman (seventh mature king soul) with whom George Hawken (first old artisan soul) had collaborated and often spoke highly of. Though I have high enough past-life history with HM Queen Camilla <10>, I have never once dreamt of her – it is important to note that each time I sleep, I recall anywhere from 6 to more than a dozen dreams in detail-rich lucidity. Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh (fourth mature warrior soul) <14> is a member of pod 408; dreams encounters with this man were always engaging, unpretentious and usually telepathic. Incidentally, dream encounters with Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales are also usually telepathic and three days after The Queen’s state funeral I dreamt of her – see below.

Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales

She was in a courtyard being focussed, competitive; she wore a extra thick black bodysuit that was like a scuba diver’s suit. Catherine carried a white, slightly scooped paddle and played alone with a heavy, smaller version of a medicine ball. As this was a dream, whilst she played, we telepathically communicated with me always to her left rear. She would strike the black ball quite forcefully, wherever it struck the wall, the ball would become stuck to the hard blackened wall; this gave the sense that both wall and ball were magnetised. Then without warning, the ball would be ejected with great force; the ball seemed as though a perfectly round ten-pound kettlebell. Catherine never missed the ball and she was having to duck and weave as though a tennis player, who is close to the net and therefore having to stretch, leap and quickly recover. It was always impossible to anticipate where the ball would go, it could return directly to her, actually curve away or go diagonally to the side as when a tennis player goes for an ace to the side of the court. Catherine, however, was throughout intensely focussed and would not miss a ball, thereby betraying her warrior soul steeliness. I guess at some point in the future, this game will be invented, in the meantime, the Princess of Wales was using it as it engaged and worked every muscle group in the body, which is why she wore the extra thick and tight body suit. Throughout, the suit contained ribbing that looked and behaved like the ventral grooves of rorqual whales; when the grooves expanded the rubberised-looking suit revealed white folds. When any muscle group expanded, the suit’s grooves would expand but just as readily contract back into place; this enabled the Princess of Wales to be always keenly aware of what muscles were being used or ought to have been better used – truly intelligent design. Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales here was just as powerful an athlete as Serena Williams. Catherine wore thick black gloves and equally bulky footwear that looked like shortened Wellington boots. Similarly, she wore wraparound protective eyewear that resembled a diving mask. Here, in this rather lucid dream, Catherine, Princess of Wales wore her hair gathered back from her face in a ponytail and her hair was just a bit longer than shoulder length.

Here is a list of famous priest souls and you can see that theirs is a radiance of spirit and leadership that is unsurpassed; they are all about uplifting one’s spirit: Mahatma Gandhi (seventh old), Nelson Mandela (sixth mature), Jessye Norman (first old), Barack Obama (seventh young), Yehudi Menuhin (second old), Lucian Freud (fifth mature), James Baldwin (fourth mature), Malcolm X (sixth mature), Louis Farrakhan (fifth young), Hermann Hesse (second old), Nina Simone (sixth mature), William F. Buckley (sixth young), John Lennon (second mature), Gustave Flaubert (fifth old), Gord Downie (sixth mature), Camille Paglia (second mature), Leonard Cohen (fifth mature), Marvin Gaye (sixth mature), Martin Luther King Jr. (sixth mature) – you shall know them by their voice! Obama is a young priest but his message was about hope a very uplifting priestly worldview. Priests have the most radiant and most intense eyes and they tend to be almond-shaped, regardless the ethnicity. Priests are not always all good, Hitler was a young priest because when a priest is bad, they is no soul more extreme.

*Not only are they both priest souls but Canadian musician, Gord Downie and Martin Luther King Jr. are entity mates.

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What I did not mention in the last blog was the importance of Queen Elizabeth II’s soul type and soul age. Slave souls make up roughly 25 percent of all souls and as such are the most populous soul types of the seven, which are: slave, artisans, warriors, scholars, sages, priests and kings. Slaves are the salt of the earth types; in my experience and from the hundreds of Michael overleaves that I have had channelled, Slaves souls are to be avoided at all costs. For me, a seventh level mature artisan on third life cast in 6th (priest) position in third (warrior) cadence, third (warrior) greater cadence, entity six (priest) cadre one (slave), greater cadre seven (king) pod 414, I simply do not, as a sceptic and with a chief feature of impatience, have time for slave souls and their manipulative, small-mindedness; it is also my third (warrior) life at seventh mature, which means I am more warrior than most and will be brusque about having persons honour my boundaries, especially so when I have master numbers of 11. All the ‘drama’ and brutalising “hazing” as Christina Oxenberg refers to this trial-by-fire of wives of Windsor who marry in, rather than being blood princesses, originated and was triggered by HM Queen Elizabeth II. She was a slave soul but she was also in dominance with a mode of perseverance and with a chief feature of stubbornness. The Queen, for women who married into the royal family, was exasperatingly difficult. It would have taken herculean patience to deal with her, if one were a family member and definitely if female and wedded into the Windsor dynasty. Most of all, all persons with a primary chief feature of stubbornness are shit-disturbers and they love interfering and pitting others against each other.

Entity Mates: Harry (warrior), Meghan (artisan) & Queen Elizabeth (slave), all mature souls

Of course, no one can say that Harry is fabricating when he has repeatedly stated that he shared a close bond with his grandmother, The Queen. Entity mates are family at the level of soul. Cadre mates are cousins. Greater cadre mates are like second, third cousins and in-laws, and pod mates are like the extended family scattered across the globe. The bond is less intense for pod mates as it is with the warmth and solidity of entity mates but it still exists. For instance, if the Sussexes were to attended a Lionel Richie concert, they would come away, feeling uplifted and warm. The reason incidentally why Harry & Meghan are always criticised for holding hands in public, is not only are they solidly bonded entity mates but this is their 21st lives together; they have reincarnationally been every possible relationship to date. There is no way that they would not handhold. It is part of the way that they engage the intense telekinesis between them and keep it active; they are basically melding their auras and forming a fortified, stronger forcefield around themselves. Though entity mates with high past-live contact, Harry and Meghan are, however, not task companions. If anyone of the persons listed above from cadre six, greater cadre seven, pod 418 were to read a Frederik Pohl novel, they would bond with the written word on a deeper level than say someone from pod 129.

Queen Elizabeth Queen Mother – Second mature Slave soul.

Speaking of pod 129 and in keeping with the previous blog where the Victorian misogynist persona was explored, let’s look at Queen Elizabeth, Queen Mother’s overleaves. She, too, was a slave soul like her mother, which afforded both – along with Queen Mary whose overleaves I do not know – the focussed attack for maintaining the Victorian misogynist persona. Pod 129 is a trawler’s bountiful net, straining at the seams with famous persons. I will list all the famous persons from entities one through seven of cadre one, greater cadre four, pod 129, into which Queen Elizabeth Queen Mother’s soul was cast.

Bowes-Lyon, Elizabeth 4/8/1900<O>30/3/2002 (4.3.4 = 11, same numerology as Meghan)

Michael: This fragment was second-level mature slave – fourth life thereat.  Elizabeth was in the observation mode with a goal of dominance.  A sceptic, she was in the intellectual part of moving centre. 

Body type was Venus/Lunar. 

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

The fragment Elizabeth is seventh-cast in fourth cadence; she is a member of greater cadence three.  Elizabeth’s entity is two, cadre one, greater cadre 4, pod 129. 

Elizabeth’s essence twin is a slave and she has a priest task companion. 

Elizabeth’s primary needs were: security, exchange and communion. 

There are 4 past-life associations with Arvin and 9 with Merlin. 

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Name                                      Entity    Cadre *G. C. Pod     Soul                Soul Age

Mikhail Baryshnikov              1             1          4       129      Artisan           Seventh Mature

Robert Mapplethorpe           1             1          4        129      Artisan           Fifth Mature

Amedeo Modigliani              1              1          4        129      Artisan           Second Old

Marilyn Monroe                    1              1          4        129      Artisan         *Mid-Cycle Mature

Judith Jamison                      1              1          4        129      Artisan           First Old

Gerald Clayton                      1              1          4         129      Artisan           Seventh Mature

Art Tatum                              1              1          4         129      Artisan           First Old

Charlie Parker                        1              1          4         129      Artisan           Fifth Mature

John Travolta                         1              1          4         129      Artisan           Sixth Young

George Lucas                         1              1          4         129      Artisan           Fifth Mature

Steven Spielberg                    1             1          4          129      Artisan           Fourth Mature

Stevie Wonder                        1             1          4         129       Artisan           Sixth Mature

Barbra Streisand                     1             1          4          129      Warrior          Fifth Mature

Karen Kain                               1             1          4          129      Warrior          First Old

George Harrison                     1             1          4          129      Scholar           Seventh Mature

Dave Brubeck                          1             1          4          129      Scholar           Fifth Mature

Benjamin Britten                     1             1          4          129      Scholar           Fifth Mature

*Georgia O’Keeffe                   1             1          4          129      Scholar           Seventh Mature

Kelly Preston                           1             1          4          129      Sage                (John’s *TC)

Queen Elizabeth QM              2            1           4          129     Slave               Second Mature

Jessica Tandy                           2            1          4          129       Slave              Second Old

Joni Mitchell                            2            1          4          129      Artisan           Fifth Mature

Jon Faddis                                2            1          4          129      Scholar          Sixth Mature

Whoopi Goldberg                    2            1          4          129      Sage               Second Old

Frank Sinatra                            2            1          4          129      Sage               Seventh Young

Count Basie                              2            1          4          129      Sage                Sixth Mature

Fernando Bujones                    2            1          4          129      Sage                Sixth Mature

Samuel R. Delany Jr.                 3            1          4          129      Sage                Third Old

Mighty Sparrow                        4            1          4          129      Artisan            Fifth Mature 

Whitney Houston                     4             1          4          129      Artisan           Sixth Young

Lorne Greene                            4             1          4          129      Sage                Seventh Young

Tom Cruise                                4             1          4          129      Sage                Fifth Young

Dexter Gordon                          4             1          4          129      Sage                Sixth Mature

Robert De Niro Jr.                     4             1          4          129      Sage                Sixth Mature

Gord Downie                             4             1          4          129      Priest              Sixth Mature

Martin Luther King Jr.               4              1          4          129      Priest              Sixth Mature

Shirley MacLaine                       5              1          4          129      Sage               Fifth Mature

Wynton Marsalis                       5              1          4          129      Sage               Seventh Young

Kamala Harris                            6              1          4          129      Warrior          Third Mature

Yo Yo Ma                                    6              1          4          129      Sage               Second Old

Nina Simone                              7              1          4          129      Priest              Sixth Mature

Yehudi Menuhin                        7              1          4          129      Priest              Second Old

*In a prior life, Georgia O’Keeffe was Spanish painter, El Greco. Also, a member of entity one is American scholar, Carl Sagan; I am not conversant with his role or soul age.  Incidentally, it takes roughly five to seven thousand years to go from your first life on this planet as an ensouled human being as a first infant soul to seven old soul.  Your soul type never changes and anyone claiming to have been alive in Atlantis has simply got an active imagination or have done too much drugs.  Christ was a seventh old king on his last life; he is never coming back.  Why?  No one is responsible for anyone’s choices.  The most famous seventh level old soul on their last life, recently experienced by human civilisation, was the scholar soul, Stephen Hawking; his soul will never again reincarnate.  He did not need a hot or a fully functional body as he was chiefly focussed on dispensing all the knowledge that he had acquired over the course of lives lived, which is why his was such a brilliant mind.

*G.C. – Greater Cadre.

Task Companions: William, Sixth Mature Scholar. Catherine, Fifth Mature Warrior

*TC = Task companion. The task companion is a soul to which you are uniquely bonded. That soul is always in your entity and they are always never the same soul type as oneself. Merlin and I are task companions, he a seventh mature scholar soul and I, a seventh mature artisan with very strongly cardinal warrior casting – and I am also on my third (warrior) life at seventh level mature, which gives a very brassy “do not piss me the fuck off” bluntness.

Merlin & I Niagara-on-the-Lake, at Shaw Festival with actors, Wayne Robson & Lynn Woodman, 1987

Not only are Merlin and I task companions but that seven-year relationship in fin-de-siècle New York City and Toronto was the forty-third time that our souls had gotten together whilst incarnate. Also, Merlin reincarnated in 2006 in Amsterdam. Female, reincarnated Merlin is the last of three children with two older brothers. Female Merlin was reborn in 02.12.2006 year of the Dog. Numerologically, 2.5.4 = 11. As you can see, reincarnated Merlin now has two numbers in common with myself 2 & 11. My life was study for his soul whilst between lives and that energy body of two affords him an abundance of creativity and the master numbers of 11, indicate her (reincarnated Merlin) need to be a singularly focussed lone wolf of sorts. Born August 02, 1960, my numbers are 2.1.8 = 11.  I would suspect that TRH Prince & Princess of Wales have had at least 30 past lives together. John Travolta is an artisan soul and his departed wife, Kelly Preston his sage task companion. Similarly, for task companions TRH Prince & Princess of Wales, Catherine is a fifth mature warrior and William a sixth mature scholar. Warriors like king souls are always the dominant partner in any relationship; William will also yield to her in a heated row – and yes, task companions will row anywhere any frigging time. Catherine is balls tougher than William any given Wednesday. Also, Wanda Toscanini and Vladimir Horowitz, like Catherine and William, are warrior and scholar task companions respectively. Task companions are always close in soul age; for this reason it is safe to assume that sage soul, Kelly Preston was a young soul sage to her task companion, John Travolta being sixth level young. You will never have one task companion a young soul and the other an old soul. Classic example of the task companion focus, is the Prince & Princess of Wales; the nature of the bond is to undertake a shared task. In this case, the Prince & Princess of Wales are focussed on stewardship of the environment, maintaining and perpetuating the Windsor dynasty.

Duke & Duchess of Sussex

Here are how past-life contacts affect one during the course of a lifetime. Take the Duke & Duchess of Sussex. Meghan who had previously been Margaret Beaufort, matriarch of the Tudor dynasty, my soul has had 4 past-life associations with her soul. As this is a relatively low past-life contact rate, for this reason, I have never once dreamt of her; further, she is well-fortified as well she should. Meghan, Duchess of Sussex is, after all, the most hated Black woman in human history. In the case of her husband, Prince Harry, as we have shared 9 past-life associations, I dream of from time to time.  It is not uncommon to have astral plane dream encounters with persons with whom you have shared past lives; however, with 1-5 past life associations, it would be rare that you would dream of such a person. 6-10 past life associations and there will be dream contact but not with any appreciable consistency. 11-15 such persons you will see in the dream time with fair regularity; they would be like someone in one’s part of town whom you see fairly regularly, though, you never directly interact or if so rarely and not intentionally do so. 16-20 and these are regular dream companions with whom you are likely to have healthy sexual contact (in dreams) and who are likely to be cadre if not entity mates. 21-25 flying dreams and other spiritually elevated experiences with commonality is the norm here. Apart from sex, they may be entity mates with whom you will continue the relationship, if known, after they pass on. 26-30, definitely entity mates with whom you will dine, fly, physicalise and also explore past-life experiences. Anything above 31, you are likely to spend time with them when they pass on, to assist with their orientation to the shift in experience/focus.

River Phoenix

The rules are not rigidly applied for instance within 48 hours of his death by overdose, I had a rather lucid astral plane dream encounter with River Phoenix. He is an artisan in my greater cadence and for being an entity mate with 18 past-life associations – though we did not meet in this incarnation – I was called into action to be of service to facilitate much needed energy alignment with his sudden transition. The link to that dream with River Phoenix is in the link that follows.  

https://dreampoetica.com/2019/08/27/go-in-peace-energy-transference-with-recently-departed-famous-entity-mate/

As with the above dream because River Phoenix was newly refocussed on the astral plane, I was there and for not being an astral plane habitué, had the ability to fly.  Also, in that dream from 1993, I ran into extra-human (extra-terrestrial/alien) persons who though likely perfectly disguised in the waking state, appeared in the dream time in their natural state.  

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Thembi, Pharoah Sanders 1971

Pharoah Sanders 13.10.1940 _>O<_ 24.09.2022

Sweet and blissful dreams shamanic kindred spirit. I love you more….

As ever, Life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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

Why Catherine’s Got It Bad…

As Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge and HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge are task companions, this would be an especially challenging lifetime for her. You will encounter your task companion during the course of your reincarnational journey more often than any other soul. Your task companion is never the same soul type as you are, and you are always in the same entity, whereas your essence twin will never be in your entity, though the same soul type as yours, but in an entity within one’s cadre.

Catherine is a fifth mature warrior soul whilst William is a 6th mature scholar soul. Task companion are always close in soul age but the relationship is always a tense one simply because you are paired with a soul whose circuitry is vastly different to yours, thereby leading to lots of misunderstanding, impatience and trust issues. It is always a working relationship. In this incarnation, obviously it is a working relationship; they are to navigate a royal dynasty after having been massively eclipsed by HM The Queen, whose reign for being so long has done just that.. a very tough act to follow. For another, HM The Queen’s reign has seen massive damage done to the monarchy, thanks to the dramas of her family and even prior to her reign – as per HM King Edward VII’s infidelities. The infamous clip from BBC’s A Berry Royal Christmas in 2019, unmistakably validates that theirs a very caustic affair.

What is plainly obvious since her trip to Denmark, Catherine has had some expert minor plastic surgery that’s afforded a firmer more tight look that I call her Jubilee face; and there will be lots of extra smiling to do this platinum Jubilee year. First noticed on her Denmark trip, Catherine has developed an involuntary twitching at the right corner of her mouth and a compensatory lip-pursing has resulted. Further, her right eye which has always been smaller, darker and brooding, appeared unusually puffy with bags in the corner towards the bridge of the nose, especially so when she was in Denmark. Apart from the fact that the photograph above is ridiculously air-brushed, it does allude to the surgical tweaking that Catherine had recently undergone.

Both possessed of 9 in their numerology, TRH Duke & Duchess of Cambridge are not only self-toxic; they are also immensely self-toxic as a couple. 9 is the number of rejection – such persons reject others and in the process self, thereby rendering themselves toxic/self-toxic. Scholars are the most difficult souls to get along with, most especially when theirs is a chief feature of stubbornness, which William’s is. Fault-finding, difficult and never liking change; all scholars are notoriously prejudiced in perspective. They do not like change of any kind, the other, that which is different. Both William and Camilla, future Queen Consort are scholar souls; I rather suspect that the senior royal not named by Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex during the Oprah interview, is either one of these two scholar souls. Just look at the Cambridges row on the ride from Westminster Abbey and whilst on the balcony at Buckingham Palace on April 29, 2011, their wedding day.

I think it is further revelatory that Prince Harry declined to issue a statement when recently, HM The Queen declared her approval when stating that it was her wish that in due course, Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall would be Queen Consort when HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales accedes. Notice, too, that now that HM The Queen has given her blessing to Camilla becoming Queen Consort, she is now photographed rather glowingly with photos tightly airbrushed. One other thing to note about Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall, she is mid-cycle mature-souled – as for that matter is Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, though, Meghan is an artisan; artisan souls are more often than not vastly misunderstood and way more shrewd than the average customer. Diana, Princess of Wales was a second level mature artisan soul. The mid-cycle reincarnational level only ever occurs during the mature soul cycle and it takes on average a single lifetime, though, it is not uncommon for it to take two lifetimes. The mid-cycle mature soul age exclusively occurs between levels 3 & 4 of the mature soul cycle.

Though the British media and now world media have engaged in the most odious sexism, pitting women against each other, the obvious racism notwithstanding, what people do not realise is that despite Meghan, Duchess of Sussex obviously having it really bad, just as damagingly, so does Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge have it bad. She did not ask to become the great white hope in the hideously racialised pitting of her against her sister-in-law – whether or not they personally get along which is no one’s damn business but tabloid media’s. No matter, how Meghan is vilified, demonised objectified by the most specious, egregious click bait tabloid stories, just as equally unfavourably is Catherine unrealistically portrayed.

Apart from the fact that Catherine is archly self-toxic, one would be a damn fool to not realise that her elevation as the great white hope comes at a cost. As Catherine is said to be the perfect princess, the most elegant, poised, never putting a foot wrong and pure class, the fact remains that the world over, everyone has become blinded to Catherine’s pain, which is only to Catherine’s detriment. Just as Meghan claimed in the Oprah interview that she was in exquisite pain during Archie’s gestation, so, too, with Meghan’s vilification and banishment from royal life, Catherine has grown in exquisite pain.

Again, as Meghan said during her Oprah interview, there is a complete misalignment between what one sees of the royals and what the reality of whom they truly are. Further, there is complete misperception between the reality of the British royals and what the kingdom’s somnambulant bigots in their collective psychosis choose to perceive. The video above is yet another perfect example, by looking at the comments, it is obvious that people simply choose to see what they want to see. This video is a perfect example of how Catherine’s exquisite pain is perpetuated. She and her husband are scuffed at, ignored and rudely dismissed by HM The Queen, yet it is obvious from the comments that all these sycophants care to perceive is the elegance, class and truly regal comportment of Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge. The Queen literally snaps at HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge and dismisses them as milquetoast and positively none of the kingdom’s fawning subjects perceive the truth of the interactions.

HRH Prince William like every scholar soul with a chief feature of stubbornness does not fake his ennui for being saddled with Catherine, the perpetually gurning boor of whom he is so clearly, terribly bored. One gets the sense that William is long resolved, ‘as soon as granny goes, there will be an announcement in Parliament of our separation and inevitable divorce.’ Scholar souls are cold and ruthless like that; more assassins and guns for hire are scholar souls than not – as a rule, scholar souls don’t do emotions.

Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge St. Patrick’s Day 2022, Commonwealth Thanksgiving Service 2022 & Belize 2022.

If this were to eventualise, you can be assured of two things: the kingdom’s walking dead would not have seen it coming and, somehow, they will look to blame the marriage’s dissolution on Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. Of course, more painful than not separating and legally divorcing, is remaining married but emotionally divorced, of which there clearly are signs, a decade on from the Cambridges’ wedding.

In this rather revelatory clip, after HRH Princess Charlotte of Cambridge sticks the tongue at the fawning zombies, much as Prince Harry had done 3 decades earlier, look at Catherine in action. She is presented with the wooden spoon in the 2019 inaugural King’s Cup royal regatta and as all persons with energy body of 9 reject everyone, she nudges the spoon from the presenter’s grip and rids herself of him. Next, when the female sailor is invited to the stage by emcee Dan Snow to be awarded her bottle of Taittinger champagne, Catherine aggressively cuts her off and gets between the award-winner and her husband, HRH Prince William. This moves betrays Catherine’s warrior forthrightness; additionally, it betrays Catherine’s shrewd approach to managing her man and his roving eye and dick. Of course, during their closeness, at no point does William look remotely comfortable and he certainly does not physically acknowledge Catherine’s presence.

Last Autumn, at the world premier of yet another formulaic James Bond 007 film (yawn), the two senior most royal couples were in attendance. Once again, there was much reptilian hissing between the Cambridges; their lives are theatre and they have a very keen sense of stagecraft. THR Duke & Duchess of Cambridge arrive at the Royal Albert Hall and greet HRH Prince Charles and Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall. Soon enough, the Cambridges start, or likely continue their rowing from the car ride in, hissing at each other and the hostess in black, sheer maxi soon takes off as she overhears their rowing. Catherine keeps looking at William, who looks down, keeps his distance from her and, of course, she is perpetually gurning. She is though never smiling, she is speaking through clenched teeth in that manner which she has skilfully mastered. As the 2 senior most royal couples mount the first flight of stairs outside the Royal Albert Hall, Charles followed by William went to their right and talked to the royal military personnel lining the stairs. Following suit, Catherine chatted with the personnel who flanked the left side of the stairs.

Meanwhile, Camilla simply made it to the top of the stairs and awaited them for the obligatory photo call. Finally, on arriving to join the senior royal couple, Catherine looked and noticed that William was nowhere on the stairs to join them; she cuts her eye at William and sighs wearily in a public display of the obvious froideur between them (35th to 45th seconds). To cover the awkward impasse, Catherine quickly begins chatting with Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall at which point William finally comes and joins them. Though on the outside of both duchesses, William soon has Catherine get out of the way and go stand on the outside of him. Of course, it was the correct protocol; however, if there were no tensions between them, William would not have used the opportunity to rudely put Catherine in her place and have her move.

What I positively love about this video, is that there are freeze frames, close-ups and slow motion moments wherein you get the gist of what is truly taking place. You see as they walk the red carpet that not only does Catherine flash William an icy glance but she is clearly hissing at him as they row as per usual. As they are at the top of the stairs for the group photo with the senior royal couple, the Waleses, William is observed, looking at Catherine intently with pursed lips whilst she turns to him and as they walk away from the camera, turns her head away and towards William to better hiss at him.

Even when William came to stand next to her, Catherine brushed him off as though fixing the cape of her gown. Catherine then skilfully recovered to make it look as though she had not expected William to be there.

Currently, on Jubilee tour of the Caribbean, sporting her Jubilee face, Catherine had me eagerly waiting as she never disappoints come St. Patrick’s Day. For all warrior souls, without exception, clothing is uniform; it is integral to how they approach all life – they are going into battle. For a fifth mature warrior soul, St. Patrick’s Day, Trooping the Colour and Remembrance Ceremony at the Cenotaph are three times annually when Catherine can be expected to be a warrior soul in her element. All warrior souls whether male or female are always well turned out for every occasion. Sat amongst the Irish Guard, for Catherine at soul centre, this is a very fulfilling, spiritually grounding experience. What I found telling this year is that there were no photos of Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge downing a pint of Guinness with the troops. One sign of the strain in their relations has always been the hyper animation that Catherine exudes when they drink during a royal outing. William ever becomes clipped, starchy and as though horrified that at any second, she may prove embarrassing. Of course, a hearty drinker is a soul with serious issues to drown by drink.

Catherine’s mental health is fragile at best and unlike the Sussexes, she is trapped. She is held hostage by the racist boors of her island kingdom, who have rabidly made of her, the great white hope. Like every warrior soul, Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge is a fighter and the fact that she has a personal need of power and in perseverance mode, guarantee that by hook or by crook, she will survive. If William does not divorce her, either one of them as they are task companions, is quite capable of eliminating the other. All the signs are there and of course well after the fact, the obsequious biographers will opine at length at how they were ever aware of the strains of the Cambridges’ relationship. Naturally, to have covered up the rumbling fault line in the Cambridges’ marriage, the British tabloid media went to town on the American negro, blackamoor brooch and all – all the while protesting, claiming themselves very much not a racist society – in hopes that just somehow, the unthinkable could not be happening again.

Oh my god, can you just imagine if Meghan, Duchess of Sussex were to have walked ahead of her blood royal prince, as indeed she did many times, Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex? Mais voilà, there were no such comments of outrage at Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge breaking protocol. Could it also mean that Catherine was just fed up, being around HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge and thought to escape his toxicity; scholar souls can be rather ennuyant, truth be told. It seems from the second photo of their royal tour of Belize in celebration of HM The Queen’s platinum jubilee that Catherine is seething/hissing, yet again, as she walks ahead of William and he tries to stay her temper by placing his hand on her back. They certainly don’t seem to be in a good place. All that aside, Catherine – warrior to the core – sartorially excels in the elegant, sapphire blue lace Jenny Packham, which handsomely sets off her engagement ring, formerly owned by her mother-in-law, Diana, Princess of Wales.

Prince Harry, indeed, was quite right to break the cycle and take wife, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, son Archie, plus guy and Pula and clear the hell out of that out-of-control car (famille Windsor) from speeding headlong into the tunnel of the cursed island’s pantomime. Sorry, said Meghan, but I am not about singing the blues. Catherine’s got it bad and don’t nobody sees her pain…

As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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

The Bigot & the Gold-digger…

Thomas & Samantha Markle

Thomas Markle 18/7/1944 Monkey 9.7.7 = 5

Energy body 9. Self-toxic, combative, shit-disturbing and a bigot.

Mindset 7, reserved, inspirational, can see things – obviously, there are exceptions to everything.

Life path 7, he sees himself doing the honourable thing for the tribe at large and in this case, as his mind is compromised by bigotry; he is team white tribe all the way.

Soul/destiny 5, scandal is the hallmark of this placement of five, which is all about excess. He is the ham who will do and stoop to any level to stay onstage. 5 in the fourth position also always means sexual scandal of one kind or another. I suspect that his interracial marriage to Doria Ragland was seen by his family as a racial betrayal and his bringing shame to the family. Now in his waning years, he is agreeing with his family’s bigotry by attacking his daughter and all that she stands for. As a rule, it is inordinately rare that 7s of any kind, will ever speak ill of anyone or put a foot wrong with regards their public image. Case in point, HM The Queen – 21/4/1926 Tiger 3.7.7 = 8. Like The Queen, Thomas has two 7s and in the same position; however, all such persons are perceived as HM The Queen is. Thomas is the exception with such placement of 7s in his numerology.

Samantha Markle 24/11/1964 Dragon 6.8.1 = 6

Energy body 6, loyal, steadfast and puts family and health at the top of their priorities.

Mindset 8, the money number. All second number of 8 persons are motivated by money and making as much of it as possible. They will literally sell anyone, especially family, for monetary gain. During her second divorce, Samantha did do just that, she forfeited custody of her two biological children to their paternal grandparents for 10k$; Samantha sold each of her two children from that second marriage for five thousand dollars apiece.

Life path 1, Samantha is selfishly consumed with number 1 – self and her own selfish interest and that includes disposing of her two children for $10, 000.00 rather than being focussed on the most important task in life, being a mum – a loving nurturing parent to her two children that she carried and gave birth to.

Soul/destiny 6, not only is she a homewrecker, who abandoned her own kids and their older sibling from a previous relationship, Samantha will stop at nothing to interfere and wreck the lives of the Duke & Duchess of Sussex. I would not be surprised if during her lawsuit against Meghan her step-sister with whom she was never close, she does not seek to have custody of Archie & Lilibet. I wish she would be so blinded by her skewed numbers of 6, 8 and 1 because going after the children of a legitimate blood prince, whose father is the future Sovereign, would not turn out too well for her.

Nothing that Meghan, Duchess of Sussex said in her interview with Oprah Winfrey either mentioned Samantha Markle or misrepresented her upbringing as Samantha’s lawsuit alleges. Here you have two persons, Thomas and Samantha, who are blinded with jealousy and hatred of Meghan, for which they will stop at noting. So obsessed is Samantha with generating income for being orbitally connected to Meghan, she went all the way in her wheelchair to London, in hopes of preventing the royal wedding. The wonderful thing about her trip as she went to deliver papers to show just cause why Harry, Duke of Sussex, whom she has never met nor knows, should not marry Meghan, Samantha went to the entrance of Kensington Palace Gardens to deliver her documents. Of course, Kensington Palace Gardens is in no way connected to Kensington Palace.

Fame-hungry Thomas (5 & 9) and money-grubbing Samantha (8 & 1) have a symbiotic relationship; both know that for feeding on Meghan, they will readily garner support from the countless hundred millions of Whites and others who are violently opposed to Harry & Meghan having married. These same people will never, given the evidence of HRH Princess Michael of Kent’s blackamoor brooch, be convinced that Meghan and Harry were ever subjected to racism whilst senior royals living in London. For such persons, racism does not exist; Blacks are redundantly crying foul and playing victim and one is so done with that.

Of course, since 2017 when Thomas & Samantha have been keen on hijacking the limelight and thereby rendering the Sussexes as their opportune gravy train, not once has either gotten off their fat arse and gotten together. Samantha went all the way to England to intervene, in an attempt to stop the Sussexes’ marriage but cannot find the time or money to go see her fellow stalker and accomplice, Thomas Markle.

Just as it is obvious that Meghan’s parenting agreement is with Doria Ragland, so too is Samantha’s parenting agreement with Thomas Markle. They are both as despicable as the other and for positively no reason on Earth should be suffered in any litigation against Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. Harry certainly should turn around and sue both for stalking, harassment and defamation; he certainly could give ample testimony in a suit brought by Meghan against both Thomas and Samantha, the latter whom clearly she does not know and has no reason to know either person.

Samantha has all these rabid, bigoted Whites and others who so loathe Meghan, Duchess of Sussex that they support her in everything that she does and says; however, why pray tell did these same people not see to it that Samantha’s tell-all book, slandering Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, make it to the top of the New York Times bestseller list and stay there several weeks? Well, since that little venture failed, now Samantha has headed to the justice system with a frivolous litigation in hopes of making money off of Meghan, Duchess of Sussex whom she never hounded when she was an actress on Suits. The number of successful/famous actors, who have nothing to do with family when they make it, is more the norm than not.

Recently, that porcine fucker, Thomas, had the frig-all gall to refer to Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex as ‘her ginger husband.’ There is nothing remotely cool about that statement and it is just as racially charged as whichever senior royal wondered how Archie’s skin tone would turn out and being concerned how that would look within the royal family. Of course, along with that remark, there was HRH Princess Michael of Kent deliberately sporting the blackamoor brooch to HM The Queen’s Christmas lunch in 2017, at which Meghan, Duchess of Sussex was officially introduced to the wider circle of the royal family.

Thomas Markle’s ‘her ginger husband’ remark deftly illustrates how in synch with the Cambridges this man is. It is in the Cambridges’ best interest that this man denigrates his own daughter; it’s great entertainment for them and the isle of small-minded bigots. Thomas referring to Prince Harry as ‘her ginger husband’ is no different to royal householders and likely some senior royals referring to Meghan, Duchess of Sussex as ‘his nigger wife.’ It is the same reprehensible bigotry of which anyone possessed of 9 in their numerology is quite capable.

I have said it before and I will reiterate, the truest portrait of what the Cambridges are like, is to study the film, ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?’ Like Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge, Elizabeth Taylor had an energy body of 9. Born February 27, 1932; Elizabeth was a Monkey. 27/2/1932. 9.2.8 = 1. That’s not acting; it is Elizabeth channelling 9 energy with exquisite élan. That mindset of 2 is all about channelling; it is about losing yourself in the creative process and embodying that on which one is focussed whether actor, writer, dancer, painter. It would have been electrifying for anyone on set during filming of the Mike Nichols masterpiece. The reason for the comparison to Elizabeth is that like Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, Catherine and William and closely bonded souls. Whereas Richard and Elizabeth are essence twins -think Romeo and Juliet, William and Catherine are that other combustible pairing, task companions.

Essence twins are always the same soul type whereas task companions are never the same soul type. HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge is a scholar soul and Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge a warrior soul; he is an older soul than her – 6th mature scholar to her 5th mature warrior. One of Catherine’s primary needs is expression, which is in the tertiary position hence her creativity is not prominent; nonetheless, it is there and is explored in her photography. Task companions are always in the same entity and are like family members; however, essence twins are never in the same entity though in the same cadre. Task companions will encounter each other more than they will any other soul during the course of their soul’s reincarnational journey; as the nature of the essence twin bond is so all-consuming, they meet up more rarely than not.

As Catherine is a warrior soul, she is the more dominant partner in their bond; regardless their sex/gender when incarnate, Catherine will always be the more dominant of the two. Catherine is better equipped to be in the role that they have chosen than even William. Furthermore, the task companion bond is always push-pull. There will ever be lots of rowing, hissing but the sex is always next-level phenomenal. As William’s fourth number is 5, like his father, HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales and uncle, Prince Andrew, Duke of York and all persons with fourth number of 5, he not only has a roving eye but very conceitedly, thinks it is his damn right as future Sovereign to sex whomever he wants. This will understandably prove a great deal of stress for Catherine and it will most definitely cause her to resort to drink, not to excess but she could never be deemed a teetotaller.

Fresh Avocado Spread on Toasted Dark Rye.

More than that, numerology is the key to understand what makes incarnate souls mere mortals. Regardless, neither Samantha nor Thomas fool anyone; they are the most vulgar disfigurement of what their numerological portrait alludes to. Seriously, go ahead and sue Meghan, Duchess of Sussex whom litigant Samantha has referred to time and again as Duchass. Similarly, Samantha has been banned from Twitter for harassing Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. Go ahead, please think yourselves entitled to either know Meghan, Duchess of Sussex or meet her children. Hell, as you clearly know all about American chutzpah, go on and sue for custody of Arche and Lilibet, even though litigant Samantha gladly relinquished custody of your two biological children for 5$k apiece. To paraphrase, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, that is a mighty loaded piece of toast to serve a judge.

All Blues Miles Davis Kind of Blue 1959.

As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!

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

Finally, The Mouse Has Fucking Roared!

What did I tell you?  I done been sermonising up in here all these long months and then the coalminer’s kinder done let it all hang out.  Getting hot under the collar in the kitchen indeed.  

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Now you know, with that one move, all god’s coloured queens done sprained their wrists, hyper-fanning themselves and blew their just-so fascinators clear off their weaved heads, on seeing the crypt-dwelling, muggled mouse-cum-rat roar back.  Twas bound to happen; sooner or later, every rat will resort to cannibalism.  

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Did you not think it weird that Catherine went and sat her post-partum steely self between Lord Porchie’s minor meat-loving dolt and Camilla – the coolest older royal after The Princess Royal.  As William would have had to get up to bear the rings, it is only natural that Catherine ought to have sat to HRH Prince Charles, Duke of Cornwall’s immediate right, rather than two to his left just beyond his wife, Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall despite what protocol dictates.  

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Catherine is both a warrior soul and a 9 energy body to the core.  What’s more, she is a fifth-level mature soul and as there is drama at the mature soul age, it is most pronounced when one is fifth-level mature as that level is synonymous with the fifth role in essence, the sage.  Drama is the hallmark of sages, fifthness brings you drama.  Finally, the little squeaking mouse had had enough of playing nice, metamorphosed, becoming a rabid rat who readily roared.  

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Jo Elvin, Alexandra Shulman, Janet Street-Porter, Lady Colin Campbell, Piers Morgan & Stephanie Powers.  

Whatever shall those silly, ninny-arsed fools do now as they have spent the past year, trying to make you and I see nacre where there was none, in what is clearly nothing but faux pearls from Target!  No matter how the persons above slander Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex in their bid to suddenly anoint Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge as stylish, having found a voice that she never had to lose in the first place, to being future Queen consort et tout ça; it is all frigging lies, which were shattered with Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge dismissing HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge much as she did on the balcony at Buckingham Palace within mere hours of having been wedded on April 29, 2011. 

Numbers do not lie and 9 energy-bodied women are all shrewd, rudely dismissive and crass when it comes to letting you know just where they stand; and for being human, there is no reason why Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge would act any differently. 

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These blasted clowns acting as though we have all been somnambulant these past 8 years.  I don’t care if you want to rebrand her as being able to turn her piss into wine, she, as her numbers dictate and as she indisputably chose to lay bare during Mary Berry’s Christmas TV special, BBC’s A Berry Royal Christmas – which only came about because palace mandarins decided that since that American, Straight Outta Compton wrote the foreword to the Grenfell cookbook Together then a cooking special for the TV masses it is – is no such thing. 

True to her numbers, Catherine just had to let there be no doubt that she ain’t nothing but a damn river rat in true Edward Gorey fashion.  And there were her revisionist enablers, thinking that this Christmas TV special, BBC’s A Berry Royal Christmas, will really show up the object of their vilifying campaign, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex as so passé.  And boy did they ever show her up… Catherine that is!   

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That’s right Monty, that’ll be two sugars with my Countess Grey.  

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Regardless, Diana, Princess of Wales’ deeply lonely, all scholar souls ever are, emotionally stunted son, HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, does not deserve to be bullied and disrespected.  As has been painfully obvious, this will ever cause him to roam as every emasculating woman has caused her partner to do.  

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Like Vladimir Horowitz and Wanda Toscanini, who were also task companions, this pair of task companions must also get up to the most vicious nagging and rows imaginable.  You can fool no one, most especially older souls than you!

With Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex’s appearance at court, Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge has got reason to live.  Life is all competition for warriors; hell Catherine would compete with a damn fly but not before first plucking one of its wings off.  That maniacal angst of Catherine’s is why the soul who was Tudor matriarch, Margaret Beaufort, later HRH Prince Edward, Duke of York & Albany and now Meghan, Duchess of Sussex chose to have nothing to do with the fire-breathing, ape-bat shit psycho holding court at Kensington Palace; instead, Meghan et famille quite rightly so decamped at Windsor Castle’s Frogmore Cottage.  

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Look at the two older children; they are growing up in a household where there is clearly massive strain in their parents’ marriage.  There is a lot of discord and rowing afoot and that is readily discernible in the two older children’s faces.  

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Wanda Toscanini & Vladimir Horowitz.

Horowitz, Vladimir 1/10/03 Kiev<O>5/11/89, NYC

Michael: This fragment was, in his immediate past life, a mid-cycle mature scholar in passion mode, with a goal of growth, a pragmatist in the moving part of emotional centre. 

Vladimir had a Mercury/Lunar body type. 

Vladimir’s was a strong primary chief feature of arrogance and a weaker secondary of stubbornness. 

This fragment was second-cast in his cadence and his cadence is fifth in the greater cadence.   He is a member of entity five, cadre two, greater cadre 14, pod/node 449. 

He and the fragment who was Wanda Toscanini are task companions, both now discarnate.   The fragment who was Wanda was a fifth level mature warrior. 

Vladimir’s essence twin is a scholar and is incarnate on the physical plane, is female, age seven years.  There are plans for them to complete the mother/son monad in Vladimir’s next incarnation, which will probably occur during the third decade of the next millennium. 

So here was an artisan-cast scholar with a great deal of sage energy, most of which was expended in his personal life.  This fragment’s relationship with his task companion was passionate, explosive and mutually satisfying. 

This scholar’s demeanour in public contrasted greatly with his behaviour in his private life. 

It is interesting to note that this fragment has had only one other life as a practicing musician and that was as an organist at the Chartres Cathedral in the early part of the nineteenth century. 

However, this fragment has a long stage history, beginning in Greece during its Golden Age. 

This fragment also built harpsichords during the latter part of the eighteenth century and actually built one for Leopold Mozart. 

As a highland warrior in the latter part of the seventeenth century, this fragment distinguished himself both on the battlefield and in fashioning bagpipes. 

He was an exemplary soldier in many lives and many guises. 

However, the place where this fragment was most at home was on the stage or behind the scenes. 

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Like Catherine & William, Vladimir & Wanda were also task companions and also the same mix of Scholar and Warrior souls.  Both women were/are fifth-level mature warrior souls.  I knew a classical musician in NYC in the 1980s and he knew the couple and said they were the most passionate, loud, argumentative and frankly abusive towards each other couple he had ever known.  This is not uncommon territory for task companions; by its very nature, the relationship is about spurring the other into action.  Warrior females in a relationship where they feel themselves not in control, will engage in bullying to assume power of some sort or power as they so deem it.  Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge’s uncouth display, in public no less, during the Mary Berry Christmas TV special, BBC’s A Berry Royal Christmas, speaks to the great stress that William endures and that Catherine has exercised in her bid to gain control in a position which she clearly perceives as tenuous at best.  

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Recently, I got taken to task about my observation that TRH Duke & Duchess of Cambridge refuse to tour predominantly black Commonwealth countries.  They have recently been to Pakistan and have also to date visited India.  Along with that, they have visited Singapore and elsewhere.  The argument was from my dinner partners that, perhaps, the Cambridges do not tour such countries because they are poorer et al.  If only that were true.  Nigeria is the third most populous Commonwealth nation after India and Pakistan and though Nigeria’s GDP is higher than that of Pakistan’s, the argument that they don’t do poorer Commonwealth nations do not hold up, when they have hopscotched over Nigeria and toured less populous Singapore whose GDP is also less than that of Nigeria’s.  Again, I hang tough, their combined numerological 9s, are precisely why the Cambridges have to date chosen not to tour any predominantly black Commonwealth nation.  That certainly does speak volumes about them and in particular William and his enabler in that regard, Catherine.   

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Demonise TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex and their family all they want, whilst portraying the Cambridges as the embodiment of wholesomeness and regal class.  Be that as it may, the Cambridges have been fractious where the Sussexes never have been.  No matter how the print medium race-bait the public into loathing the Sussexes, theirs comparably is a happy marriage and that at the end of the day, is why Catherine, rather than Meghan, seethes at having to be touched by her spouse.  Catherine is a toxic 9 writ large and no amount of sugar-coating ya-ya from the DailyMail and its racist trolls will ever be able to gloss over the froideur Catherine exhibited at Mary Berry Christmas TV special, BBC’s A Berry Royal Christmas, towards HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge.  

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That is no mouse, it is a damn river rat! So you know, two rats will have a million offspring in a mere 18 months, most of which will be cannibalised to keep themselves fed and nourished.  So very wise of the Sussexes to stay clear of that rabid, to say nothing of haunted, toxic and dense-energied lair where the Cambridges hold court, Kensington Palace.  

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

Charles & Diana: La Deuxième Partie (Like Father, Like Son).

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A few weeks back as I pored through IG (Instagram) that day, I kept noticing that the latest viral storm involved the worlds of dance and the royals.  As the story unfolded, I became increasingly ticked off.  Here was everyone, mostly dancers across the globe, whom I religiously follow, feigning indignation at Lara Spencer’s bullying of HRH Prince George of Cambridge because he studies ballet at the age of six.  

I soon sought out the clip in question and quietly awaited how the usual defenders of the royals would react.  Firstly, I do not believe for a second that Ms Spencer’s intended to bully as its been alleged that she did.  She was presenting a light entertaining piece about the royals, about whom the American audience at large know precious little.  Indeed, had an American, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex not married HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex in May 2018, it is highly improbable that Good Morning America would have run the story about Prince George also taking ballet classes at his school in Battersea.  

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There was no malicious intent on Ms. Spencer’s part; however, she was being sexist and classist in trying to make the royals somewhat relatable to an American audience.  It was an entertainment news item, in an American breakfast show when there is no time for getting too deep into any given subject and certainly not an entertainment story.  Nonetheless, there was she being tarred and feathered with dancers partout, calling for her to be fired and demanding that she issue an apology toute de suite.  

There is a damn good reason why dancers do not speak when onstage and that damn well ought to apply more often when offstage.  Not once did the optics of their outrage at Ms. Spencer, occur to any of these solipsistic bunheads.  Honest to god, here are they up in arms in defence of a royal whilst having remained perfectly mute as when onstage about the racially predatory abuse and bullying of another royal, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex.  Of course, in having chosen to not hold their tongues as previously and consistently they have as the Duchess of Sussex has been abused, more speaks volumes about them than not.  

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For never once having said anything in protest of Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex’s bullying and abuse at the hands of Piers Morgan, Lady Colin Campbell, Amanda Plattel, Janet Street-Porter shows the entrenched apathy the world over at racism towards blacks.  All of the aforementioned have all fallen silent and written not a single article in defence of Prince George being bullied by that uncivilised American, Lara Spencer.  Naturally, so huge was the backlash that Lara Spencer had to swiftly issue an apology.  Again, at no time did any of the DailyMail gang of racially predatory Meghan-hating, race-baiting, click-baiting detractors show their cowardly faces. 

How could they have?  By far, they are the biggest bullies.  Unlike Ms. Spencer, her remarks were a one-off, I do not believe she intended to report on the Cambridge’s children on a weekly basis and in a disparaging manner.  American six-year-olds do not take ballet classes as part of their curriculum; that is why Ms. Spencer was going for a light, easy laugh.  She was showing to the American audience how removed from their reality, the royals are.  

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Each day with Jeffrey Epstein’s all too convenient death – that was definitely not a suicide, the racially predatory ghouls in English print media have remained conspicuously silent.  Truly if Lady Colin Campbell, Piers Morgan et al cared about the monarchy, why are they not up in arms and castigating HRH Prince Andrew, Duke of York of having been a dark and bothersome thorn for the crown?  Where is their outrage?  Where are the multiple daily articles wherein Prince Andrew is taken to task for proving himself not fit to be counted a royal?  

Don’t these idiots realise that in remaining in hiding and mum through the tsunami of Epstein’s resurgence and death, they come off as having been purely racist and malicious in their attacks on the Duchess of Sussex.  The longer they remain silent and cease their attack articles on Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex, reveal how purely malicious, personal and racist their coverage has been.  They have now got zero credibility.  

Naturally, as the braying against Prince Andrew grew louder and there were more daring calls for him to face justice, the loyal defenders of the RF sat back and said nothing.  When finally the Lara Spencer controversy blew over, Piers Morgan re-emerged and went right back to feeding on TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex.  The new attack word is hypocrite; naturally, the Sussexes are hypocrites for flying by private jet.  After the fact, it would emerge that the Sussexes likely travelled to be at Elton John’s French estate, following the suicide of an energetic, charismatic colleague of Prince Harry’s on August 5, 2019.  

In this exquisite clip, we get a prime example of the true hypocrisy; here is Piers Morgan caterwauling as per usual, defending his right to bully and prey on Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex and like every racist boor, he is shrill in denying that it has anything to do with race.  As the future Countess of Sandwich, Julie Montagu, Viscountess Hinchingbrooke and fellow American alludes, the reason for the Sussexes travelling by private jets may be down to serious and valid threats that they may be subjected to, owing to Meghan being black.  Naturally, straight away as he race-baits and gleefully so, Piers states that it has nothing to do race; he refuses to concede that much of the hatred towards the Sussexes could be rooted in racism and that there couldn’t possibly be death threats aplenty against the Sussexes.  

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Julie Montagu, Viscountess Hinchingbrooke.

Rather, the tone deaf racist boor counters by stating that Diana was infinitely more famous than Meghan is; granted but he fails to realise that Diana was white and would have receive not a single death threat for being white.  The fact that Meghan is black and the first black to marry a senior royal are grounds enough for violent racists to be boldly making death threats against the Sussexes.  

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This is to what Julie Montagu was referring, instead, in a defence of his right to maintain his shrill racially predatory attack campaign, Piers Morgan shrilly states more nonsense.  Piers even becomes incandescent with rage at Julie Montagu’s suggestion that Meghan will do things in an American way.  Naturally, Piers protests and, in essence, says that Britons will not be overrun by Americans.  The past month has revealed the real hypocrisy of the English print medium, just as with the Lara Spencer scandal, which they could not criticise as it reflected their own bullying, Piers Morgan et al fell silent with the avalanche of details that have surfaced with Jeffrey Epstein’s death; murder, suicide… you decide.  

The glaring refusal of Piers Morgan and the rest of DM’s gaggle of shrill racists to so much as once mention Prince Andrew, has rather unwittingly cast a very harsh light on that other source of royal scandal, HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge.  Of course, this was never their intention – they aren’t that intellectually sophisticated.  Rather than pounce on the Andrew angle, if they are so keen on hurling mud at royals, they remained mum.  This has only given rise to questions of what exactly has been going on in the Cambridges’ marriage.  There was William shaking arse with his bottom boy, Thomas van Straubenzee in Verbier whilst also playing the field and hooking up on the dance floor with a woman who definitely was not Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge.  

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This is the same Prince William who earlier in 2019 met with the editorial board at the DailyMail,  Like the scarf incident at Christmas 2018, more and more this is not about Wallis Simpson and King Edward VIII; however, it most definitely is matter of history repeating itself within the British royal family by way of HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales’ jealousy and the very real threat that he saw Diana, Princess of Wales posing early in their marriage.  For Charles, Diana was a complete enigma.  Not only did he not love her but how could the public be so obsessed with her?  How is it that he who was born to be king, be eclipsed by someone who was not even a blood princess?  

This dynamic is now repeating a generation later as desperate to rein Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex in, HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge met with the DailyMail’s editorial board.  For William, just like Charles, he is threatened by Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex’s star power.  Meghan shines brighter than both Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge and himself, the future Prince of Wales.  Naturally, all along, HRH Prince Henry was dismissed as being second fiddle; William was deferred to and it was expected by William that Harry would know his role and keep his place.  

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Yet, there she is, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex with more glamour and star power than both Cambridges combined.  It is in the nature of scholar souls to engage in dirty pool and set about to ruin someone by doing so in the background.  History repeats itself in that, like his father before him, William has been blindsided and thrown by the public’s reaction to someone not a blood royal.  It isn’t just that Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex is black, rather, William has been groomed from birth to expect everyone to be less revered than himself in the dynastic hierarchy.  That assumption, as are all assumptions, is untenable.  For all kinds of reasons, Meghan is far more popular than either William or Catherine – to say nothing of both combined.  

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Misha Nonoo-Hess & Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex.  

William for being a scholar soul and with his astrological, numerological and overleaves chosen would never choose a wife who could prove more popular than himself,  Shrewdly persevering, Catherine a warrior’s warrior would never go in for being showy as is an artisan or sage’s wont.  Artisans are simply far too complex for mere scholars to fathom.  The fact that artisans input on five channels where kings, warrior and scholars merely input on a single channel, would lead to unease on the part of a scholar who has been groomed from birth to be deferred to and groomed to be most popular.  That Meghan, has been one of the most shrewd and accomplished women in English history – she is the reincarnated Margaret Beaufort matriarch of the Tudor dynasty – is all the more reason why one cannot expect her to turn up playing wallflower here and now.  

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For Meghan, William is as interesting as a mastered rubric’s cube; he is flat, one-dimensional and bland.  The fact that Meghan’s task companion is a warrior and that she, Meghan, is married to a warrior, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex, her father-in-law HRH Prince Charles Prince of Wales and Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge, her sister-in-law are also warrior souls, gives her an edge in understanding and knowing just what to expect from the Cambridges.  It is no coincidence that Charles’ second wife would turn out to be a scholar, Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall and as such, someone who would not prove the egotistical challenge that Diana, Princess of Wales proved for being an artisan with star power.  

Indeed, like father like son as William a scholar would marry a warrior soul, Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge who also happens to be his task companion.  Meghan and her forthrightness and singleness of purpose, with her healthy star power has proven a threat for William.  Meghan has also proven a jolt of energy for the Cambridges; they have finally had to get off their arses and stop playing house and do something that is more than simply turning up, grinning, shaking hands then bolting.  This is what the revival of the King’s Cup Regatta as a means of fundraising for some of their charities represents.  Meghan has shown with her ventures, the Together cookbook and Smart Works fashion collection that like the Prince Charles’ Prince’s Trust, she is all about raising money.  She gets it – the monarchy is a business.  

No amount of meetings with the DailyMail‘s editorial board is going to change the fact that Meghan’s star power is rooted in history.  How this has manifested itself here, is her expert command of stagecraft.  She is commanding of an audience in a manner that neither William nor Catherine is.  All this recent rubbish on the part of the DailyMail talking about Catherine has found her voice… all of 8 years on; indeed, it is a voice that she has been forced to suddenly find with little mastery simply because the very real threat and presence of Meghan behoves the Cambridges to do more than breed.  As compared to the Sussexes, the Cambridges are rather bone idle, truth be told.  Just as Charles was threatened by Diana’s greater popularity, so too is William threatened by Meghan’s greater worldliness, star power and commanding stage presence.  

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This is precisely why Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex’s stellar stage command at the 2018 British Fashion Awards has been scrubbed from the internet.  At the end of the day, the very shrewd Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex – which artisan soul is not both shrewd and complex – is confident of one fact: intellect is the most powerful asset to possess when incarnate.  Meghan is better educated than both Cambridges and she is vastly more worldly and articulate and displays greater intellect and emotional intelligence than Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge hands down.  Charles does not call Meghan Tungsten for no reason…. besides just as Charles is rather shrewdly aware, William, though not inconsequential, is nonetheless stupid.  

No matter how William colludes, conspires and sabotages from behind the scenes, it is as futile as trying to sabotage and undo the work that Margaret Beaufort did back there in time… impossible.  For both Charles and William both Diana and Meghan would prove both enigmatic and difficult.  Both men for being warrior and scholar souls respectively input solely on one channel.  Both Diana and Meghan for being artisan souls input on five channels.  We artisans are the most complex creatures, who are not readily understood and are usually dismissed as unstable, too wilful, undisciplined, crazy, lunatic, artsy-fartsy et al.  Where artisans and sages are at home in the arts or looking like the contestants on Rupaul’s Drag Race, warrior and scholars are anything but, unless of course they are a scholar or warrior with sage or artisan task companion and with lots of sage or artisan influences in their casting.  

Where Charles differs from William is that his task companion is a priest which means that he, like all priests, would be given to serving a higher ideal which in Charles’ case has to to do with stewardship of the environment and not just the realm to which he is destined to govern.  Again, I cannot strongly enough state how much scholars are given to being shit-disturbers, fault-finding and given to being stubborn and categorising everyone and everything into its own neat little box/list as deemed by scholar arrogance to be correct.  In William, this is even more pronounced as his being born to be king, has heightened this innate scholar arrogance; furthermore, his attitude of 9 in its negative manifestation leaves him being prejudicial to all that is other and not like oneself.  

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(HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex at the wedding of Michael Hess and Misha Nonoo.  What I love about this photograph is the more than passing resemblance between Henry and Roman Abramovitch.  About a dozen years ago, I had the most lucid dream of both men deep in conversation and I was struck then how much they looked alike; this is the first photo that captures this similitude in the look of their eyes.  I think that they are, perhaps, connected at the level of soul either entity mates or cadre mates.)  

The long and short of it all is that William met with the editorial board of the DailyMail in his campaign to demonise and eliminate the affront that Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex represents to his prejudicial scholarly sensibilities.  Still, he has yet to go tour a predominantly black Commonwealth Nation; unlike his brother, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex who through Sentebale has kept in touch with his black roots in his immediate past life.  Regardless of how much he and Catherine, run around making speeches all of a sudden, they can never eclipse the cool sophistication of Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex’s commanding stagecraft.  

Apart from being task companions, William and Catherine are a formidable force to reckon with… and it is all in the numbers.  Catherine is born 9.1.82 = 9.1.3 = 4.  William is born 21.6.82 = 3.9.2 = 5.  For any pairing to smoothly, harmoniously work, one must have at least two numbers in common.  The Cambridges have 9 and 3 in common.  I have spoken in the past of how debilitating William’s attitude of 9 leaves him hamstrung by prejudice, which clearly leaves him ill at ease or disfavouring blacks – hence the meeting with the DailyMail’s editorial board.  In Catherine’s case, the 9 is in the energy body.  9s are perfectionists who readily dismiss and banish anyone and everyone who comes near them who by their personal standers do not measure up and are deemed imperfect in some way.  

Again, Warriors (Catherine/Henry & Charles also Philip) are the dominant partner in any relationship.  For that reason, Catherine is rather threatened by Meghan’s forthrightness, American boldness, most of all, she is grossly threatened by Meghan’s commanding stage presence and the fact that Meghan, like every performer before her who is an artisan soul sets the tone and captures one’s attention like no warrior ever can, would prove disquieting for Catherine; in Meghan, Catherine is made readily aware that she is imperfect in some way.  Diana was the quintessential artisan soul with star power, she was also like another artisan of commanding star power in the 20th century, Marilyn Monroe.  Diana’s body type was Lunar/Mercury – she was luminous, empathetic, fluid, changeable, unpredictable.  With Marilyn Monroe, there was also Lunar energy; however, that artisan soul was Venus/Lunar… you could not get more bewitchingly famous than that.  In other words, she was gorgeously voluptuous – as we well know – but could cast a spell on anyone… and did.  

Also, an artisan, Meghan incidentally, is the same soul age as was Marilyn Monroe.  Meghan, however, has a Venus/Solar body type.  No surprise then that the very powerful Tudor matriarch, Margaret Beaufort would reincarnate with a body type that has the most spiritually senior royal, HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales referring to her as Tungsten.  Not only is she winningly appealing but Meghan’s body type of Venus/Solar suggests someone who is inordinately ambitious and also fully in control and is more shrewd than Diana ever was.  Both William and Catherine are deeply intimidated by Meghan.  Catherine’s body type is Saturn/Mercury/Venus.  That saturnine energy only accentuates that 9 energy in her makeup.  She is steely, guarded and like every warrior who ever lived fiercely competitive.  She is the dominant partner in that marriage – I should think that this does cause William a great deal of stress.  William, of course, is a lot like his mum, he is Lunar/Mars/Saturn.  At the end of the day, like Diana, he is not always ‘there’ and is not someone whom one would ever think of as an intellect… spacey is more to the point; this is why he cluelessly sat with his back to the horses on entering the 1902 state landau on his wedding day outside Westminster Abbey.  

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No matter how the Cambridges are threatened by Meghan and engage in a campaign to rein her in and sabotage her star power, as the Kingdom Choir sang so jubilantly, Meghan’s light will ever shine uneclipsed regardless of what prejudicial William and tightwad, faultfinding Catherine think or do.  It is really risible watching them try and rebrand Catherine as a public speaker.  Catherine can never walk onto any stage anywhere and have the audience be wowed and react so beautifully as the heavily artisan and sage-souled audience at the 2018 British Fashion Awards did to her surprise appearance.  Meghan proved her mettle in giving the world the greatest bit of theatre as she walked up the west steps at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle on her wedding day, walking up the aisle like no royal bride ever had; she was declaring loudly and clearly, “I’m back!” as at the core of her being, the soul which previously had been Margaret Beaufort, entered the chapel alone beneath the stain glass windows at the west door with a tribute to her son in that past life, HM King Henry VII, then walked whilst escorted by HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales, across the tomb of HM King Henry VIII whom she mentored and for whom, she Meghan, then Margaret Beaufort was his greatest mentor.  

Meghan with every speech eclipses and exposes the flawed campaign of the Cambridges to try and make her a laughing stock, banished and inconsequential.  For crying out loud, Meghan is an artisan, not a self-restraining warrior nor a dull blithering scholar who was openly dismissed whilst on the balcony on his wedding day by his new wife.  Catherine for 8 years never once thought to start speaking publicly, yet, all of a sudden, there she is, comparably making an arse of herself.  She has been a deeply self-absorbed controlling element in her husband’s life, given to smoking, dieting all in hopes of being praying mantis and boyishly androgynous, the way a good public school-groomed husbands like those cherished proclivities sustained.  

Numerologically, the Cambridges are better suited elsewhere on the Timeline than here.  They are both not remotely adept at living in a world where being media savvy  is mandatory.  Saturnine, smug and colonial in their sensibilities, it is hard to fathom how they have managed to do little to nothing until the arrival of Meghan on the scene to cause them to suddenly become eager to engage and undertake royal engagements as well as raising funds for charities.  Since 2011, they went to Hollywood, wowed no one and have not been invited back since.  

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Truly, all that Catherine in her whimpering speeches can do is address childhood issues rather than commanding the respect and attention of adults as with Meghan at the 2018 British Fashion Awards which have been conveniently scrubbed from the internet as it is puts into relief the commanding force which Meghan represents.  Artisans, like Meghan, Marilyn Monroe, Diana, Princess of Wales and countless others bring the magic by merely being, especially so when on stage… this is an innate gift that neither Catherine nor William possess in the slightest.  

For sporty Catherine to be suddenly thrust out there to be making speeches only further highlights how desperately the Cambridges are threatened by the appearance of Meghan in their midst.  Just listen to this god-awful boldfaced sophistry!  She has not found any voice anywhere. 

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You cannot find what you never had to lose in the first place.  She is a mousy little thing who looks like a chain-smoking, eating disorder mess which would be in keeping with the 9 numerology obsession with perfection.  This You Magazine insert in the Mail on Sunday is the result of the Cambridges meeting with the editorial board of the DailyMail. 

It changes nothing because as earlier in the week proved as TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex demonstrated when presenting four-month old Archie Mountbatten-Windsor to Archbishop emeritus, Desmond Tutu and the eagerly awaiting world, the Cambridges by comparison are like week-old lettuce…  limp.  Just look at that exquisitely shaped African skull on Archie…  it readily conjures images of family gatherings where every black aunt, cousin and mother want to gently, lovingly massage the uniquely large skull with its rear extension, their long melanin-rich fingers massaging love and pride deep into the very DNA of yet another handsome son of Africa. 

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Archie is such a beautiful, well-aware, engaged youngster.  Indeed, in spades, he demonstrated at all of four months that he is indeed an older soul as his mum, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex stated whilst visiting with the Tutus.  Truth be told, Archie is the oldest soul senior royal.  He is the same age as HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales – both 7th level Mature souls; however, Archie is a priest soul and more cardinally cast than warrior soul, Charles.  

One thing that the Sussexes tour of Africa has proven, is that though the campaign waged by the British media, especially so the DailyMail has been damning, it changes nothing.  There hatred does not encompass how the world perceives the Sussexes; they are lovely couple, truly in love and parents to the most awesomely spiritually evolved child, Archie Harrison Mountbatten-Windsor.  

*I should point out, however, that I have not done the overleaves for prince Louis of Cambridge or his sister princess Charlotte of Cambridge.  Thus, of the senior royals channelled at this stage, Archie is the oldest soul, though, he may well not be based on the other senior royals whose overleaves I have not done.  END.  

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

Won’t Take The A Train

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As I slipped into sleep, on Friday, July 9, 1993, the Moon transited both Pisces and my tenth house – though not the least bit focussed on Merlin prior to sleep – the dream shaman would manifest and weave the most sublime magic yet.  As will become fast evident, the first three dreams that day were about process.  I was during those dreams, divesting myself of the baggage that affects one’s waking consciousness/persona.  These are waking state survival mechanisms which would be disposed of, in each successive dream, so that I could be elevated enough in spirit to have moved on to the truly noble experiences of the later dreams.  

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Whilst yet another stood beside me, I was looking into a full-length mirror.  At the time, I was with Sjaak van der Velde – friend, current lover and Manhattan cabaret singer.  As I stood there, in the near-darkened bathroom getting cleansed, I keenly looked at my face.  On looking down, I noticed that my entire body was nude; it was completely depilated.  This, of course, presented a big challenge because I am so vain – big hair and all.  I was mildly horrified that my gorgeous pencil-thin moustache was no more.

To say the least, as intended, the moustache and big hair do nothing but scream vain solipsism.  As I try warping self to stay with the ageist, lookist gang, vanity ends up making things that much more superficial.  I spent a great deal of time really scrutinising the lack of facial hair.  After assessing things, I finally came to like the naked look of my exposed upper lip.  ‘What the hell,’ I thought.  I began laughing aloud by grinning down my self-consciousness and vanity.  Soon, I grew to like my smile a lot.  It was truly wonderful.

Then who should appear in the mirror to my left, though never next to me in the dreamtime, but Len Morse.  He, too, had recently shaved his moustache in the waking state.  I was surprised to see him.  I guess that there is some soul connection that we share which was clearly being alluded to.  He has been present in a few dreams of late.  He was warmly looking out at me as if to say,  “Oh really now?  It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  Nothing to be self-conscious of…”

Frankly, I rather liked the nudeness of my face and head minus the moustache and big hair.  The whole thing was a true revelation.  I genuinely looked handsome because I wasn’t trying to run from or hide behind anything.  It was truly uplifting.  What was so empowering about the revelation, too, was the fact that the moment at which I became relaxed with myself – unconditionally accepting myself – my eyes awakened more completely.  It was as though they had never shone so brilliantly, indeed, shone so beautifully before – absolutely revolutionary!

All this maya only caused me to hysterically laugh enjoying the absurdity of trying to get caught up and lost in lookism.  ‘Who frigging cares?’  That was the essence of the wisdom being disseminated here by my higher self.  This new perspective was truly a rare and treasured gift.  It was quite the uplifting experience and one not soon forgotten.  

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Next, in the second dream, I was outdoors in the daytime.  I was in this heavily trafficked, overpopulated metropolis.  It did feel as though I was at Seventh Avenue and 23rd Street.  Whilst, crossing 23rd Street, I was on the west side of Seventh Avenue going north in Manhattan.  I wore a knapsack which was much like the one in the waking state.  Close to my chest, my arms were crossed and folded.  They clutched a book that I was currently reading.  As I passed a young, White couple, they made socially aggressive, racist remarks about me.

‘I don’t want this kind of energy, at all, in the dream state,’ I thought impatiently deflecting their ignorance.  When I got to the other side of the road, I felt unresolved about the whole thing.  So, with that, I turned to look after them.  They veered off, on seeing me eyeing them but I knew that they had wanted to cross Seventh Avenue – on the north side of 23rd Street.  They headed off going east, to the right, on the north side of 23rd Street.

Impatiently I purposefully and heavily strode on my heels, back towards them, soon overtaking them.  On catching up to them, I walked alongside.  The woman was closer to me and him closer to the traffic.  He was considerably taller than her.  They were a very waking-state-focussed, hard-edged, racially aggressive, pinched couple.  Big-boned and Yuppified – they were the epitome of North American, aggressive, merchant class greed.  In a rapid-fire, ballistic staccato, I began aggressively repaying their racist bile bit for bit.  I repaid their aggressive verbal abuse bit for bit.

They were stunned by my response.  As with the codified behaviours of the racist paradigms in the waking state, which keep racially preyed on Blacks fearful of defending themselves against such actions, I was not expected to retaliate.  I had no intentions of sublimating any aspect of self, either here or elsewhere, to suffer anyone and their bullshit.  Yet what could they have done?

They simply turned glacial and remained petrified acting as though one were, all of a sudden, not there.  I had no intentions of having them dump this kind of psychic garbage onto me.  I slapped the racial animus back in their direction and was able to divest myself of such negative energies.  Perhaps, though likely not, my response gave them pause for thought.  

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The third dream then found me going down into the belly of the underground.  I proceeded to take, what would prove, an extensive series of train rides.  I had been down in this particular sprawling subway station.  There were no pillars in between the tracks.  The station was not unlike London’s Liverpool Station and though similarly dimensioned, however, it was completely below-ground.  Whilst waiting for the train to arrive, I had gone and stood close to one of the ends of the platform.  Raising my leg, I had placed my right foot on an orange-coloured railing whilst waiting.  Close by were two White women standing and speaking.

Long, flowing, drop-waisted dresses, that were light summer fare, they both wore.  For being close to them, they fell silent and projected that cool steely edge that was informed by their racist perceptions.  This was not the kind of energy that I wanted to be around.  I strongly resented having this hideous grey light, of waking state racially-tinged maya, flooding and destabilising the Chi of the dreamtime.  Since this was not my scene, I chose to tune out their invasive, racially predatory, psychic aggression altogether.  Pretty soon, they came to realise how utterly ridiculous what they were doing was.

Immediately, they stopped their bullshit and resumed being human.  The WST (waking state transference), in which they indulged, towards me evaporated.  The air became noticeably clear… less dense-energied.  Soon thereafter, the train rolled into the station and we boarded together.  Unusually large, most impressively, there was also a dizzying amount of persons on board this train.  It took the longest while, for us to get on board, as throngs flooded out from the train at our station.  Even when finally we boarded, the bloody thing was still overgrown with humanity.

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I eventually arrived at this particular stop where, again, it was densely populated.  Wherever you looked, it was lushly overgrown here with incredibly large arboreal giants.  

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Not surprisingly, in this the fourth dream, it was impressively landscaped here.  There was a dizzying array of flora and most of them were not readily familiar.  I was up on a winding road that rose up a high hilltop.  Along the way, I encountered an old Black woman.  Goodness was she ever ancient.  Hers was a face that was on the plus side of ten millennia.  To match every lifetime-filled millennium that she had outlived, boy did she have a lot of life and personality.  This was clearly her astral body, which I was encountering, whoever this well-travelled, marvellous old soul was.  This sprawling metropolis was distinctly French.

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This place did remind me of being at Montmartre when looking down into Paris.  This metropolis, however, was several times larger than Paris.  So many eons older than Paris, was this metropolis, it even seemed vastly older than the old woman.  Her lovely dark-complected body, reminding me so of some West Indian women’s, she was so readily familiar.  This metropolis was easily twenty millennia older than Paris.  A truly august-souled metropolis this was.

The woman, along the road on the side of the hill, much reminded me of Clarice Jack who lived in The Alley, Sandy Point, St. Kitts.  Of course, Clarice lived next-door to the church that Harella built.  She was a big-boned, large-bosomed, full-figured lively gal.  She was turning about, busying herself, doing some landscaping repairs along the side of the road.  On approaching her, I asked how to get to a concert hall.  I had been en route to some destination which, presently, I could scarcely recall.  

“Oh no, no, no, my dear…  You have to go all de way back down into town.  It’s not at Palais Royale, in fact.  Don’t even think of there.  You have to go and get some other trains, to get you someplace else…”  Her tongue darted back and forth, over her ever-moist lips, as her lively rapid-fire French gave directions. 

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She had pointed, off in the distance, to what seemed like Grand Palais.  It, too, had a companion like Petit Palais in Paris.  Here, however, these stately buildings were easily four times more colossal than their waking state counterparts.  To anything in the waking state, the scale of architecture here was beyond compare.  Gargantuan doesn’t, even remotely, convey the towering scales of the proportions here.  Everything here was grown over.  The metropolis, centred in this fantastic locale, was layered with each rise and fall of the civilisation readily discernible.  In that sense, this metropolis was much like Rome is.

Everywhere, there were visible signs of crumbling architectural masterpieces.  Still, other long-abandoned structures became the outer shell for more recent revivals of themselves.  The latest additions, to an old ruin, could have occurred four millennia later and still have been easily a dozen millennia old – truly ancient.  There were so many different strata of architectural styles layered one atop the other.  This truly was a living museum of architectural giants.  It was impressive, to say the least.  One felt so utterly nouveau, for being of waking state Earth, as none of Earth’s civilisations can architecturally boast any such richness of character.

Great epochs of civilisations grew on top, through, about and around themselves in this impressive astral plane metropolis.  This place was quite beautifully landscaped.  Everywhere there were mound-like hills, like the one that I was on, which were forested areas of lush growth.  They looked like some of the better-gardened neighbourhoods of Naples.

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Next, the fifth dream had me taking my leave of her.  I went down the hill, into the metropolis, where I entered one of the city’s many termini.  This one much reminded of Gare d’Austerlitz in Paris.  Here, too, this terminus was easily seven times more colossal.  I began my marvellous adventure by taking a number of trains.  There would be a few transfers at other, just as massive, termini along the journey.  Here, at all times, I travelled with a silent astral guide who remained just to my rear.  He seemed to be younger and was definitely White.  

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There was a staggering amount of people in transit here.  People here were also very quiet.  The majority of communication was telepathically engaged.  There were so many tracks all of which were being used by trains.  This was clearly a metropolis on a planet whose population easily soared beyond 17 billion (I meant to say 70 billion).  With lots of transfer points converging all at the same terminus, this particular station was a major hub.  This travel that I was doing, the vehicular transports I was using, merely proved secondary to what was really at play here.

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I was going through different planes, travelling through different dimensions, and realities.  I was in transit – for the ease of waking consciousness, much of this has been perceptually transliterated as being modes of travel comparable to waking state paradigms.  The trains were capable of transporting one, to various locales, at protected faster-than-usual speeds.  However, the travel was definitely destined.  We travelled along a set, guided course.  It was, if you like, a willed form of travel.  It was not as though one were aimlessly wandering about a wilderness or city.

For being buried below-ground, it suggested that this was travel that was deeply rooted in the domains of the soul itself.  There was a definite route, a purposeful intent, and a clear objective for undertaking the journey.  Although for much of the time, especially when I was on the terraced hilltop with the old Black woman, I couldn’t quite recall why I was trying to make a definite rendezvous.  All that I knew was that I simply had to get there.  As it were, I had a destined appointment.  For following along certain experientially mapped out routes, one could interdimensionally travel whilst on board these trains.  

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Whilst I was on one of the trains, when in transit, I sensed that I was not alone.  Looking around, in search of someone’s familiar energetic signature, there on this utterly crowded train I found Merlin!  I was so blown away.  So that the dream wouldn’t be aborted, by my whiting out and prematurely awakening, I had to contain myself.  I can’t say here how utterly arresting it was to have seen him.  

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Not since he had walked into the salon, in that dream on Saturday, July 25, 1992, had Merlin’s beauty so moved me.  Merlin here was as real and as focussed as ever he was, the seven years that I had known him, on the other side of the dreamtime’s pandimensionality.  I was so thrilled.  I became overwhelmed with genuine happiness.  I simply couldn’t believe that this was happening.  I was acutely aware that I was dreaming.  Oh my goodness – this was enlightenment and then some.  Seeing him was akin, to having been away and upon my return opening the door, to have Whoopi come rushing towards me – her familiar pigeon-toed sweetness being the most treasured gift in my life at present.

One glimpse and you fall in love all over again.  Seeing him, I felt all the quiet rapture that I felt – on Friday, October 1, 1982 – when he ambled into my life.  On slipping in through the glass-paned door of a Hell’s Kitchen walkup, Merlin began weaving the most sustained, sublimed magic.  Merlin, to look at him, was such an encapsulation of health and inner beauty.  Goodness, I was completely blown away.  Merlin wore a light, gauze-fabricked shirt that was very much so from the Indian Subcontinent.  Caramel-coloured and ancient-looking, it was reminiscent of many of the ones he so favoured – ones which were perpetually sillaged with patchouli’s grounding signature.

The shirt was covered throughout with tiny rosebuds and other petals – exquisite.  This was so Merlin in every refreshing detail.  A long-sleeved shirt that was buttoned at the wrists, he wore, but with a bit of ballooning just aft the wrists.  So thin and loose a fabric was it that it seemed diaphanous.  Merlin was the picture of health, so much so that, his skin actually glowed near-imperceptibly.  The light was the faint glow, which was the subtle undulating glow, of his aura.  

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This was much the effect that one would observe, if photographing someone, through a soft-focussed lens.  Yet it was more than that, there was a definite hum to his aura’s vibration.  There was so much flesh and vitality to his face and the rest of his still-rakish body that I was left overjoyed at the sight of him.  His mane was beautifully coiffed in a long, leonine, gentle fall.  Interestingly, it was not at all grey or greying.  For that matter, Merlin’s hair was not greying as it was at the time of his passing.

Additionally, Merlin’s beard was not white.  He looked like a much healthier version of himself, as he was at age thirty-five, when we met.  It was so fuck-all fabulous to have seen him.  It was great to have experienced him.  Seated there, languorously looking into the forever of his familiar eyes, my spirit simply danced for joy.  I vibrationally zinged at a higher frequency, on seeing him, to have experienced him yet again.  To have drunk of his familiar spirit was that longed for elixir that my wandering soul so quenched.

Merlin silently looked over, validating that he recognised me, with the most intimate of smiles.  A smile it was by which, for too long now, I had not been warmed.  We communed, though our communication was telepathic, at the level of spirit.  Our communication was not only mentally accomplished but it was emotionally complex and thorough.  We immediately connected, more to the point, we did intimately connect.  There was no getting around the fact of this having been why I had felt so compelled to quest, to journey, in search of this concert.  

On finally having a rendez-vous with Merlin, what stellar music of souls this was.  I knew, there and then, why I had been in transit making all these connections and travelling at such great speeds.  I was in an astral plane metropolis, one which clearly served as a resting and inspirational space, for souls in transit – quite wonderful indeed.  There I sat, on the fast-moving train, flying without moving.  How utterly rapturous a living dream postcard this dream was – especially after our last profound encounter, a year ago.  Sure, there had been other dream encounters during that interval.

This, however, was a dream of high order.  This was a dream which existed at the same heights of spirit as that, on Saturday, July 25, 1992.  Merlin’s eyes were so large, clear and focussed.  Merlin here was so serene.  He was transcendent.  It blew my mind just to look at him.  For resonating with him, I felt myself quivering with rapture.  To feel the quiet purr of his spirit so close, and so familiar a spirit, was more than even I could have hoped for during pre-sleep meditations.

There was no getting around the fact that Merlin was now considerably more elevated than, when we last kissed in that dream, on Saturday, July 25, 1992.  Merlin was now more in control.  He had greater mastered his astral body since then.  Back then, he wore a cloak that had a cowl.  Merlin looked every bit the magus that he was.  It was just like the cowled cloak that he had worn in our initial dream encounter, July 1978, four years before finally meeting on the physical plane.

Merlin here was so much more elevated than ever he had been in life or since his passing.  Now, he was casually dressed but still looked every bit the magus.  Indeed, Merlin here was the dream magus ascended.  This dream was so very healing for my spirit.  Then, on Saturday, July 25, 1992, Merlin was tying up loose – as he was experienced in that sublime dream.  In that dream, Merlin thanked me for having served him nobly and in a healing capacity.

Thanks to his life task, Merlin had awakened the magus within me as I served him during his illness.  This shared task of ours enabled me to become more spiritually focussed.  As a result, as mentor to me, Merlin initiated my accelerated spiritual growth.  In this dream, Merlin was simply saying hello.  No postcard, across the seas of time and dimensions, could have been more beautiful a gift received.  I could not believe that I was seeing Merlin.  He did not, after having set out and sent me that one momentous dream on Saturday, July 25, 1992, have to send me yet another momentous dream.  Yet here he was, by express transit no less, sending me a most magus, evolved and uplifting dream postcard.

Thank goodness my mind was fully aligned with spirit and the soul, as validated by my Venus-Uranus conjunction, enabling me to assimilate the potency and depth of this most sublime of gifts from Merlin.  At that moment, when I found Merlin, the train was speedily travelling above-ground.  The glow of his aura was further highlighted by the swells of sunlight, whose crests broke and oceanically flooded into the train, from the sunny outdoors.  The merry sunlight added to the intensity of the encounter’s sensuality.  I was so captivated by Merlin’s sublime beauty that I had not caught the conductor’s announcement.

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A little dark-haired boy then announced that we would have to change trains.  The boy had stepped up to a round circle, in the middle of the aisle, before the doors.  In a vertical shaft of light, there the young, male astral guide stood perfectly still.  He then announced to us the different transfer points – all of which he telepathically did.  

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Next, the sixth dream found all three of us – Merlin, the youthful astral guide and me – seated on a bunk in a rustic, near-dark, high-ceilinged bedroom.  There were marvellous, dark wooden beams, high overhead in the ceiling, which created that familiar astral plane look.  Whilst seated on the edge of the bunk, our legs dangled over the side.  Merlin was on my immediate right as we visited side-by-side.  His energies were so very warm and familiar.  The house was unmistakably large, like everything else in this dimension.  Incidentally, the ceilings here were vaulted.  There was no mistaking that this dream was set on the astral plane.

*The key signature of the astral plane is its phenomenal architecture.  The astral plane seems to serve as incubator and one from which great thinkers and movers, from time to time, come along and manifest their impressions thereof into the waking state.  These great thinkers being architects such as: Antoni Gaudí, Frank Lloyd Wright and others.  In these dreams, set on the astral plane, architecture is marked by the rustic, the aged, the organic – the fully concretised and usually in proportions that are not of this world.  Everything seems much larger and more solid than even in the waking state.

There is nothing ephemeral about the architecture of the astral plane.  The most impressive thing, about architecture on the astral plane, is the staggering amount of details that are worked into these true works of art.  Structured and sound, one always immediately feels secure, is architecture on the astral plane.  END.

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The young, astral guide was on my left, silently holding the large book of photographs, as Merlin guided me through its pages.  One series of photographs was of a guy who was water-skiing.  The guy reminded me, as a matter of fact, of Maddox Pool.  We looked at the photos which were taken, from the perspective of someone, at the rear of the boat to which he was tethered whilst skiing.  

In one of the photos he had taken away his right hand, from the grip, to energetically grin and wave.  The photos in the book were not static.  They were holographic yet, somehow, they never extended beyond the page.  They were three-dimensional but you were not looking at a film.  Instead, you were looking down into a three-dimensional holographic image which was within the borders of each photo.  It was in these shots that the waterskiing young man looked so much like Maddox.

He was dark-haired and the picture of health.  The water was crystalline and eye-scorching blue.  He was about twenty-two to twenty-three years of age – exactly the same age that I was when Merlin and I met in New York City.  Merlin telepathically explained to me, as we looked at the photographs, that this photo was representative of himself after his first bout of pneumocystis with full-blown AIDS.  Merlin told me that this was the nature of the work that he was presently doing.

Astral plane habitués, such as Merlin, after they had done work on themselves could elect to assist persons still incarnate and moving through the illness.  The crisis of AIDS was so impactful, on humanity at this point, that those who were discarnate had to direct a great deal of energy planetside to those incarnates who were moving through the experience.  When persons went from being advanced with HIV, all the way to being sick with full-blown AIDS, then they on the astral plane would work with them after their first bout of major illness.  

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Merlin explained that they were seen to have a resurgence of vitality because of the energy work, being directed to the incarnate full-blown persons, by astral plane habitués in his position.  This is precisely as had been the case with Merlin, in the spring, summer and early autumn of 1988, after his first bout of pneumocystis – all of which abruptly atrophied when he was betrayed by that stupid drunken woman, Morag O’Hoare.

Merlin also intimated that the energy work came not only from persons such as him, between lives on the astral plane, as well as from souls above and beyond the astral plane.  This was energy that they were sharing, with afflicted physical plane habitués, which they could then use to sustain their lives for a year or two or even a decade plus.  Merlin further shared that they could indefinitely live on, to the full course of their lives, if they so chose.

Though they were fully capable of surviving long-term with the virus, which allegedly led to AIDS, people planetside had not yet made the realisation that they did not have to atrophy and die because they had tested positive for the HIV virus or for going full-blown with AIDS.  This ability, of afflicted incarnates, to live on had to do with willpower.  Choice was the issue in this situation.  They must have wanted to remain incarnate.

They must have wanted to live and to accomplish certain tasks.  The nature of the support system, that one surrounded oneself with, was crucial to being able to become long-term survivors.  Persons really did not have to pass on so soon, Merlin intimated, after discovering that they were HIV positive or full-blown with AIDS.  Humanity presently had such stultifying fear of death that afflicted persons ended up, literally, terrifying themselves to death.  It did not help much that there were so many stigmas associated with AIDS.  At present humanity, for the most part, did not yet realise that death was merely but a refocussing of one’s energies.

“Death…” said Merlin “…was no big deal.  Come on, look at me.  I’m here, aren’t I?  How different am I?” he intoned in a quiet whisper rather than telepathically.  ‘Can’t argue that one,’ I thought.

Merlin was as human and as real as, he had ever been every day of our being together, during our glorious seven-year relationship.  Even though I could see him, and indeed touch him, he was so much more evolved and frankly better off for being in that dimension of purified vibration.  This was definitely not the normal domains of the dreamtime.  From the regular confines of the dreamtime, I had travelled – to this conduit space within the astral plane – to be able to experience Merlin from his regions of the astral plane which are exclusively inhabited by the discarnate.  

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We met in a dimension wherein persons, both discarnate and incarnate, could meet and interact.  It was quite solid here and rarefied too.  To be able to have experienced Merlin left me so immensely happy.  Merlin further explained that people tended to die so soon, after having become full-blown with AIDS, because the spectre of dying became a vortex of fears – enervating energies – that literally depleted their reserves of willpower and caused them to die sooner rather than later.

By becoming so obsessed, with fear of death and the stigma of dying of AIDS, those subjects simply became victims of their own fears.  Merlin said that they had to turn that vortex into a white hole rather than an imploding, enervating, gnawing black hole of fear.  Such a vortex proved a vacuum that sucked the very life out of the afflicted and caused them to die what was clearly a premature death.  Once transmuted, this vortex could be used to assist one to go on to live a very productive life.

This energy could simply be used to fuel oneself and serve as a conduit to channel pure, life-sustaining energies from discarnate souls, such as him, on the astral plane.  This would ultimately enable one to stay focussed, in the afflicted life, for considerably longer.  The thing to remember was that the mind did not have to become afflicted with fears because the body had become impaired by disease.  All over the world, Merlin assured me, the afflicted could choose to triumph over fear of imminent death and it was being done with increasing success.

This vortex of transformed fears could, according to Merlin, become a catalyst for undertaking a great deal of spiritual work.  The amount of growth that could be pulled off for becoming thus focussed, Merlin assured me, was no light matter.  As Merlin imparted this wisdom, I was being illumined to this revolutionary approach to life and death which heretofore, I had not before thought of the paradigm in this manner.  It, however, made perfect sense.  

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What was really impressive, about all this, was having Merlin return now as a teacher.  He was so wise and magus.  I felt absolutely proud of him.  He was a guide to me, sharing of the wisdom that he has gained in his trans-dimensional sojourn thus far, as the realised dream magus who had long set out ahead of his much-loved adept and companion magus.  I can’t say enough how very pleased that I was to have seen him.  I was so moved by Merlin.  It was simply profound.

I was so incredibly happy to see Merlin.  The windows to the large hall, in which we visited, were all closed.  This caused the place to be dimly and intimately lit.  Here, it was very womb-like and nurturing.  

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After that intimate visit together, followed by journeying on some more, we arrived at this the seventh dream.  On returning to the large terminus, we had to take yet another series of trains.  We arrived after much high-speed travel at another terminus.  This one was far larger than any before which I had visited.  Here, the terminus was above-ground and wide-open at both ends.  Multiple tracks were everywhere and veered off in all directions.  After we got on board the train, as before he had, the little dark-haired boy who served as astral guide came up and stood in the centre of the aisle.

Here, there were many people with kids and several persons were travelling with a ton of baggage.  They were carting around all this baggage which they really did not need.  This baggage merely served to weigh them down and impeded their forward advancement.  They did not yet realise that they did not need it.  Neither Merlin nor I had any baggage.  Similarly, the young astral guide had no baggage.  Somehow, because of the travelling requirements here, I couldn’t ride in the same car as Merlin.  Instead I rode one car behind him on the same train.

On pulling up into the large station, there was a PA notice that indicated that the train we were on would not go any further.  We would apparently have to transfer at the next station on disembarking.  The announcer said that one would be able to find one’s appropriate ride by following the colour-coded lines on the platform.  When I got off onto the platform, I began running ahead to the front of the platform in search of Merlin.  Not for anything did I want to lose him now.

A couple had impeded my progress as they wobbled along with a ridiculous amount of baggage.  The luggage was so much dream symbolism – inasmuch as there is such a thing.  These persons represented newcomers to the astral plane.  More importantly, they represented persons who had recently died and returned to the astral plane but who also happened to be fairly young-souled.  They were dead yet not already fully aware.  Just as they were spiritually blind, when incarnate, they now progressed.  They were now hobbling about, carting around all this baggage, as if they could truly ‘take it’ with them.  

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With them was all this Maya, the baggage of their perceptions and the worldviews, which had held them hostage whilst incarnate.  Here they were, on the astral plane, arrivés habitués carting around mindsets that were totally redundant.  What I found unique here was that no one interfered with anyone.  No one came to their aid telling them that it was not necessary for them to be carting around all this baggage.  Furthermore, they were repressed such that they appeared these Boteroesque persons – bloated in the style of Fernando Botero sculptures.

Their little merchant class worldviews had had them well-preserved, and puffed up, with pompous self-aggrandising notions of their greatness.  They did look truly South American in that pretentious sense.  They looked not unlike some of the parvenu-looking subjects of Fernando Botero’s paintings and sculptures.  They were truly lost souls both here and when previously incarnate.

I, on the other hand, was nimbly walking whilst bounding down the platform.  I had hoped to reconnect with Merlin whom I knew had also gotten off at the same stop.  Here, too, in this station all the railings were orange and sturdy-looking.  Rushing ahead of the Boteroesque couple, who vibrationally felt as if made of the heaviest metals in the universe, I noticed something truly spectacular.

High up in the walls of this terminus the wall would simply open up, much as a camera lens’s aperture would, then from the gaping hole would stream out a train at full speeds.  The train was, as it were, intersecting dimensions.  This fantastical train was, along with several others that I had noticed, simply splicing through our pocket of the astral plane en route to heaven-only-knows-where.  At the far side of the terminus another aperture-like portal would gapingly open to accommodate the approaching airborne train.

Soon after, the train would be lost into the black void which moments earlier had opened up.  Those trains, like the others, were massive and looked as though the stateliest trains from the late nineteenth-to-early twentieth centuries.  More than that, they barrelled through the air without travelling on any overhead tracks.  What’s more, they progressed as if along well-mapped out routes.

Some were higher than others.  Others intersected our little cul-de-sac of the astral plane, in a diagonal manner, cutting perfectly across the immense width of the terminus.  These trains, just like all the others, seemed so imposing for being as massive and as multi-carriaged as they were.  Despite the fantastical spectre of these trains, the matter of Merlin’s whereabouts was of paramount concern.  On noticing the initial train, I peripherally recalled that there had been a similar such train piercing through the earlier terminus.  However, its outréness had remained peripheral or not readily assimilated.

Just as described over the PA system, there was a series of colour-coded lines on the platform.  These colour-coded lines indicated where one had to venture, in order to make the appropriate connections, back to one’s final destination.  As could be expected, the trains were all very massive.  What’s more, they were distinctively leaden and stylistically looked as if straight out of the 1930s.  They were very art deco trains indeed.  

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One of the trains was silver and black.  It was a tone of black that was truly austere.  The silver was used for most of the detailing.  Its silverwork was so opulent that, by comparison, it made Erté’s deco sensibilities seem bland.  Somehow, I knew that it was the one that I was expected to take.  In all, there were two trains that I was supposed to have transferred to.  This black and silver train was energetically the densest-feeling one of all the trains that I had seen.

This, I think, was the case because it travelled between this locale and the density of the physical plane – the waking state.  Nonetheless, all that I could think of was Merlin.  I did not want to lose contact with him.  As ever, he had done in the waking state, I had initially seen him leaving the train then gone energetically bounding down the platform.  With so many people everywhere, and for having been impeded by the Boteroesque couple, I had lost sight of him.  My mind busily raced as I thought of the horror of possibly having to lose him here.  

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I did not want our encounter to end just like that.  Besides, we were supposed to have gone off somewhere.  I came down off the platform, desperate to find him again, by using a narrow flight of stone stairs.  From there, I crossed the tracks ahead of the austere-looking train that I was supposed to have taken.  No sooner than had I crossed its track that I saw, off in the far end of the terminus, an unusual-looking train.

It was stationed beneath a sunlight-flooded awning.  It was a most unique mode of transportation.  A series of long horizontal slabs, hovering off the ground, they lined one after the other.  They were, basically, the floors of boxcars that had no wheels, no sidings and no roofs to them.  They were, if you like, just a series of hovering rectangular slabs à la magic carpets.  The awning, beneath which it was stationed, gave a sense of how truly massive this hangar-like terminus was.  It was then, too, that I saw Merlin.

I had recognised him by the brown tweed cap that he always wore in the waking state.  To look at his body, he was the sexiest human imaginable.  Merlin still could work his magic on me.  Merlin wore a faded pair of blue bell-bottomed cotton slacks.  A pair of well-worn, doe-skinned shoes was familiarly upturned at the toes.

He was so true to form – realistic.  This was so very Merlin and so like the Merlin, whom I had known so very intimately, but for the fact that he was not smoking a ganja joint.  Also unlike the sublime dream encounter, on Saturday, July 25, 1992, he was not wearing his gold-rimmed round glasses.  Naturally, he did not need those things anymore.  It was so very good to see Merlin.  Here, he was my astral guru – indeed, the transcendent dream magus had returned to impart his magical wisdom.

Merlin was so phenomenally alive and real.  I was moved beyond belief to see him.  So excited was I, to have found him again, that I went rushing up to greet him where he hung out on one of the slabs.  Thrilled and delighted, I let out an excited squeal.  Soon enough, I grew immediately self-conscious of the fact that no one here verbally communicated.  In one graceful balletic leap, I went rushing up onto the platform broadly grinning.  My love for him welled up from the very bosom of my soul.  As soon as I got there, I realised that everyone else was seated in these circular groupings.  

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They sat in lotus position and faced inwards towards each other.  Merlin was part of a circle of men, seven deeply meditative men, all of whom looked just as transcendent and centred as did he.  They seemed to be so deeply engaged, at the level of spirit, as if a part of a coven of magi who were engaged in group energy work.  Their silence was impactful – there was so much being said and done in its weighty stillness.

Merlin’s eyes were so brilliant and clear yet there was a fecund agedness to them.  The clarity came from the intense focus of his energies, where he presently is, in his transition through the discarnate progression.  They were older-souled eyes; there was no way to get around that fact.  I realised, there and then, that I wasn’t supposed to have been there at all.  So pleased was I to be with him, too eager to telepathically communicate, I began chatting aloud.  It was a way to wrestle his full attention as there was no way that I could have competed with the union of spirits and minds that they shared.

They were simply too deeply telepathic,  “Look Merlin, why can’t you come on this train with me?  I don’t want to be here on this one.  When we start moving, it’s only going to aggravate my allergies which are acute right now in the waking state.  It’ll be too much wind, too much exposure to pollen.  It’s just going to affect my allergies too much.  There’ll be too much wind blowing in my face.  Look, I really don’t know if I want to do this.  Why can’t we go on the other one?”

The moment at which I paused, after having posed my questions, Merlin seized control of the dynamic.  Very firmly, he entered my mind and said, “Be still.  Be quiet.  Don’t rush.  Don’t you understand?  I don’t care to go there.  I don’t care what you want… what you desire.  I’m going to stay on this one.  Besides, it’s what I have to do.  I’m going this way…”

When he intoned that last phrase, from the inflection and weight he telepathically used, I realised that there was no way that I could leave this place but on board that austere-looking silver and black deco train.  Merlin implied, by his intonation, that the conventional old train was the one that I had to use to safely ferry me back to the waking state.  Clearly, he couldn’t take that train because it was too mechanical.

It represented the past and the density, when incarnate, of his former physically ensouled state.  He was now in a dimension of existence which was vibrationally infinitely less dense.  Even the mode of transportation, for his dimension, was more advanced.  There was no denying that these levitating slabs were being kept aloft by their focussed, united wills – Merlin and his kindred spirits’.

To have entered their midst, the air and the Chi were intensely purified.  On entering the vibrational sphere of their midst, I instantaneously felt lighter in my body.  Their seating formations only intensified their energies and focussed their thoughts and wills.  It is safe to say that in these formations, they became a unit.  They were a shared consciousness of sorts.  They did though each still possess a will of their own.  This was clearly the case with Merlin who was able, independent of his circle mates, to exert his own will when asking me not to be an intrusive presence.

He was never hostile but he simply asked that I not be so inconsiderate of their need for privacy.  Meanwhile, the six others patiently waited for him.  You cannot imagine how mentally powerful these seven men were – individually and as a shared consciousness.  They patiently waited for me to either calm down or simply take my leave of them.  What was really intriguing, in all of this, was the fact that they did not have a preference whether I should stay or leave.  That choice was exclusively up to me.

It was truly insightful – they simply had no emotional engagement and were totally objective.  This was so much like the Merlin I had always known.  It was so good to see him that I really did not want to leave.  There was no way that I would pass up on this most rare of treasures found.  On calming my nerves, I directly looked Merlin in the eye and said, “Okay, I accept…  I accept….  I accept.  I realise that I was being so selfish.  Do forgive me.  I know how selfish I can get at times.”

Yet there sat Merlin supremely long-suffering and patient.  I would not, nor could I, deny myself the elixir of those eyes.  Impishly, I added, “Okay, please, let me come some of the way with you, at least.  I don’t know.  I don’t care…”  For breaking protocol and wanting to leave this place by going in his direction, I was more or less quieting my own fears.  I would gladly have given up the ghost, as it were, just to go on journeying with him.

As his eyes warmly smiled into me, a discernible smile drifted across his large, lucidly focussed face.  I was thrilled.  He telepathically suggested that I take a seat, which I did, just outside of the circle.  Two of them shifted their positions signalling that I join the circle rather than not.  The moment that I entered the circle of beings, which included Merlin, the procession of levitating greyish slabs began moving.  They had been hovering, just above a groove that sat, between two knolls.  These rolling mounds were covered by the most verdant cropped grass that zinged with a whisper of misty dew.  

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Instantaneously, we were moving at faster-than-sound through to faster-than-light speeds.  It was immensely thrilling an experience for me.  Merlin sat with his back always to the front of the procession of slabs.  In that sense, he was in a powerful position.  We were seated towards the end of the third or fourth platform.  Each platform-like slab contained several clusters of seven asexual-looking men – even Merlin looked asexual.

Even more interesting, along the lines of the Michael Teachings, was that there were six or seven clusters of six to eight individuals in the tight circular formations.  Here everyone was in lotus position.  There were never any doubts in my mind that Merlin and every last one of these discarnate individuals were the ones whose focussed wills were directing the travel of this light trip.  This was so right up Merlin’s alley – unabashed magic.

Each levitating slab measured roughly ten feet across by close to fifty feet at least.  They were linear and, though wafer-thin, had the most softly plush comfortable surface.  They were just as soft as if we were seated on satin throw cushions.  The speeds with which we travelled were phenomenal.  I did not experience any discomfiture for moving at such great speeds.  There was simply a whizzing blur of everything, outside the confines of our progressing procession of levitating slabs.

We travelled some four feet off the ground as we jetted away from the hub terminus.  The winds never affected us, nor did my body experience the increased G-forces, for travelling at such great speeds.  The landscape sped past, even more rapidly than when on board the trains.  Of course, when on board the trains, we were then in an enclosed environment.  Yet here, as there, we were not at all affected by the winds.  As a matter of fact, this proved an infinitely smoother ride than when travelling on the conventional trains.

There weren’t any of the chattering minds, for one, as experienced when on the conventional trains.  So deeply internalised was this place that there was nothing but Zen order.  No wonder Merlin so loved Johann Sebastian Bach’s artistry because it was so wonderfully suited to the ambience of this place.  

*It was as though, this place was the grove to which he gravitated between lives.  It gave him the sense of serenity, of order and of peace, which was so readily discerned to the core of his being.  At such times, Merlin would become lost – grow intimate and private with his very spirit – for listening to Glenn Gould’s mastery of J.S. Bach’s Goldberg Variations.  Merlin’s intellect, at such times, would become expansive.  Each time, his spirit and intellect were sensed, he would be spatially experienced.  Quite simply, for experiencing him at such times, there is no other way to articulate how one would feel.  END.

All around us were wonderful, rolling green plains situated in a vast expansive vista.  Everything was so thrillingly filled with life.  For travelling at such intense speeds, we were left in a heightened state of sensitivity – or at least I definitely was.  Perhaps, this was par for the course with Merlin and his kindred spirits.  I, on the other hand, found this so new and exciting for my dreamer self.  Everything zinged with more abundant negative ions, at concentrations that were more pronounced, than in the waking state.

This dimension was a harmonious mélange of pure thought and pure emotion.  It was so invigorating and completely centring.  Pure emotion, minus the trappings of ego, it gave the sense of Merlin and his kindred spirits’ transcendent nature.  There was an audible drone discerned here, to our splicing progress through space, which seemed as if their combined breaths held in a sustained meditative hum.  Truly serene a spiritually uplifting experience this was.  How transcendent they each were, too.

This sound was so intense and pure that it can best be described as being audible light.  The sensations and emotions I experienced were so thrilling that I couldn’t believe such intensity of joy could be experienced whilst incarnate.  At that moment, the experience was heightened when Merlin and I both directly looked into each other’s eyes.  In that moment of connectivity, mere words could never do justice to what I experienced.  We were truly intimate soul-to-soul.  

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Looking off to his right, impregnating me with this most beauteous gift, Merlin oceanically poured his very soul into me.  This was the most sublime postcard yet, that he had sent across the seas of time, from his journey up ahead.  I couldn’t ever have imagined that any gift could be so profound, beautiful and cherished.  Looking to the left, I had done so as he had telepathically entered my mind, saying a warm and intimately familiar hello.

Slipping into my moist, expanded intellect, I felt the familiar purr of Merlin’s soul as he edged closer and squinged up next to me soul-to-soul.  How many nights had we gotten this close when he was incarnate…  Yet none of that – physical intimacy – could have compared to the exquisite ticklish touch of his soul deep within me.  This was such a massiveness of spirit that I experienced.  I couldn’t believe that I was feeling the intensity of sensations and insights as I was experiencing.  This was such a massive experience that to look at Merlin the giddy ecstasy that I felt caused me to whiteout.  

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This had been fostered, too, by the enriching stimuli that bombarded my totality as the levitating slabs sped on.  The feel of experiencing nature, as we so rapidly sped by, only made the vibrations of everything that much more pronounced.  As I moved without moving, my body quivered throughout.  Looking to my left into the most intimate pair of eyes that I have known thus far in this lifetime, I thrillingly flew whilst seated there in lotus position.  Merlin’s eyes being the pair that has been more intimate than any other…  This moment of Zen bliss caused me to quickly draw on a sharp breath.

As though I were nodding off, my body had bobbed a tad.  With that I lucidly awoke – my body quivered as I remained in bed on my back looking up into and beyond the off-white ceiling.  Merlin alas quite cleverly had hypnotised me, back into wakefulness, with one sensual look.  

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By far, those dreams were among the most truly uplifting dreams of this incarnation.  There is not a year that passes since then that I don’t recall these dreams with the greatest fondness and humility.  So, alas, dream your dreams of wonder – for having been so richly inspired by mine.  Sweet dreams, you!

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