"A series of dreams makes a more satisfactory basis for interpretation than a single dream, for the theme which the unconscious is presenting becomes clearer, the important images are underlined by repetition and mistakes in interpretation are corrected by the next dream"": An Introduction to Jung's Psychology.
Early Sequence Dreams (ESD):
Dream 1, April 1972 to Dream 303, November 1975
Dream 1, April 1972 to Dream 303, November 1975
Dream 1: Early April 1972. The Voyage Begins
I am alone at the rudder of a Roman style barge with a single central mast and one large sail. I stand at the stern on an elevated platform. There is no crew. Also on the platform is a large simmering cauldron, which is giving off steam. I am sailing through a network of canals or narrow natural channels with thick vegetation on either side. I observe my progress from my position on the platform but also from outside myself, from a position high above the barge. After a while I come across a small sandy beach and ground the barge upon it. I make my way up the barge and jump from the prow onto the beach. On the beach I pick up a handful of material, sand perhaps. Back on the platform I add the granular material to the contents of the cauldron. As the grains fall I see that they are red, brown and white in colour and that the mixture in the cauldron is fawn in colour. I proceed to stir the contents of the cauldron with a very large wooden spoon.
I am alone at the rudder of a Roman style barge with a single central mast and one large sail. I stand at the stern on an elevated platform. There is no crew. Also on the platform is a large simmering cauldron, which is giving off steam. I am sailing through a network of canals or narrow natural channels with thick vegetation on either side. I observe my progress from my position on the platform but also from outside myself, from a position high above the barge. After a while I come across a small sandy beach and ground the barge upon it. I make my way up the barge and jump from the prow onto the beach. On the beach I pick up a handful of material, sand perhaps. Back on the platform I add the granular material to the contents of the cauldron. As the grains fall I see that they are red, brown and white in colour and that the mixture in the cauldron is fawn in colour. I proceed to stir the contents of the cauldron with a very large wooden spoon.
Commentary: This is a solo voyage. I must take responsibility for it. I reach a far shore of the mind and add things that I find there to the melting pot of my awareness as it searches for a way forward, develops, evolves. Here are new ingredients for a new recipe of being.
Dream 2: 7th April 1972: Trouble at the Start (A long dream but a real scene setter)
I am walking with friends along the beach of a seaside town. We walk to the far end of the beach and go up onto the promenade. Here all the seats and ornaments are rectangular in outline and have solid planar surfaces. These and the ground are completely covered in small light green mosaic tiles with thin bands of white grouting between. I remark that I like the effect produced.
I am walking with friends along the beach of a seaside town. We walk to the far end of the beach and go up onto the promenade. Here all the seats and ornaments are rectangular in outline and have solid planar surfaces. These and the ground are completely covered in small light green mosaic tiles with thin bands of white grouting between. I remark that I like the effect produced.
We see a small steamer and decide to take a trip. We come to a place were before us lie high mountains with a fjord like opening on the left. At the foot of the mountains, which are shades of green and brown, sits a small village of rustic type. Above and to the left of the village a river issues from the mountain and falls to the calm sea below. The waters of the river are green, brown and yellow in colour. I think how peculiar this is. Looking back the way we have come I can see clearly the seaside town, the beach and the steamer jetty. It strikes me that they look real while the mountains and river, and the village ahead, resemble stage scenery in a puppet film or old movie. The boat moves on noiselessly up the fjord. To the right streams of clear water cascade down the steep slopes of the fjord. We have been rounding a slight bend in the fjord and it is now possible to see above and in front a “bridge” of ice stretching, at an inclined angle and descending to the right, completely across the fjord. During the journey on the steamer I have not been aware of the presence of my friends as individuals although I felt they were there.
We embark on to low ground at the head of the fjord. Green fields cover the narrow strip of low land from which the steep sides of the valley rise up on either side.
We are out of the valley and walking along a dirt track. Since embarkation I have been aware of being with a company of people who I do not recognise but feel are good friends. All of those I note as individuals are male. To the left of the track is a high shrub hedge, with few leaves. A voice, distinct from the voice of my own thoughts, and having (what I assume to be) the quality of a telepathic message shouts. “Watch out! Darts! Behind!”
I dive beneath the hedge, there seems to be a wooden gate to my left, and see, lying together, two blue dart flights (of the screw in type) with white plastic mounts. They have no head. Soon however a complete dart with the same type of flight lands close to my left arm. I see two more fly over the hedge to land near a crouching companion. He is wearing rustic clothes. I look through the branches of the hedge and see that the darts are being thrown by three riders, galloping down a field from right to left, parallel to the hedge. The ground slopes up and away from the hedge. I notice one rider in particular. He is wearing medieval garb, which includes a black leather waistcoat. All the riders are male.
The riders disappear and we resume walking. We leave the hedge line and the scenery becomes rounded and undulating. Toward my right I see a broad green valley covered in a light mist. Suddenly another group of similarly attired riders charge down on us from higher ground to our left. There must be at least ten or twelve of them. They are soldiers. All wear black leather waistcoats with gold studs, save one, who is later seen to be the leader. They surround us. Two dismount, the leader and what I presume to be his second-in-command. Someone behind me says “Robin Hood”. I turn to look at the speaker and in that instant I become aware that I have the identity of Robin Hood. I had not been aware of this previously and it fades quickly. I become aware that the leader of the riders has issued a challenge. I am to take it up.
I move to the leader's side and he indicates the nature of the challenge. Ahead of us in the branches of a solitary tree, which resembles an oak but possesses no leaves, there are two diagonally crossed arrows with their flights uppermost. The flights are blue. The object appears to be to hit these flights. I realise that I now have a bow and quiver full of arrows on my shoulder.
The second-in-command takes aim and looses his arrow, narrowly missing the flight of the arrow on the left. The leader takes aim and looses his arrow, which passes through one of the feathers making up the flight on the left.
I take the bow and quiver of arrows from my shoulder only to see that it contains arrows of different lengths, with different coloured flights. One arrow with red flights and another with black flights stand out. I turn to the leader and ask if I may borrow one of his arrows as I have I used my best in beating of the three riders who assailed us earlier. (Although I was not aware that this was the case and did not know that I possessed a bow and quiver until this later incident). He hands me an arrow with a blue flight. I notch the arrow and ask which flight, in the tree, I am to aim for, the left or the right. The second-in-command replies “For the one which isn’t there”.
I say nothing and take aim at the point where the shafts of the two arrows cross. I loose the arrow it flies straight and true striking the target and splitting both the arrows in half. They fall to the ground. I turn and say, ”I have hit the one which was not there. You now have four shafts where before you had but two”. He seems satisfied and they remount and ride off back up the slope. As they go I notch an arrow and loose it at the second-in-command. It hits him low in the side and he falls from his horse to the ground. The others ride on. He looks dead but I expect him to move again. Dusk is falling and we sit near the body talking. After a while I see him move. He has a dagger in his right hand. He begins to crawl forward raising his head off the ground. Holding an arrow I plunge it between the base of his neck and his clavicle. He sinks back to the ground. I withdraw the arrow to find its tip covered in black blood. Black blood pours from his neck to form a thin film over the ground in front of us. I light the tip of the arrow and put it to the blood, which burns with a luminous blue flame. We try to extinguish this burning patch with a shaggy fur coat but although we achieve some success small areas continue to burn.
We have been kneeling around the burning patch, which is not very big. We are not perturbed by the fact that we can not put it out. I look down towards the broad mist wreathed valley. It is almost dark.
We embark on to low ground at the head of the fjord. Green fields cover the narrow strip of low land from which the steep sides of the valley rise up on either side.
We are out of the valley and walking along a dirt track. Since embarkation I have been aware of being with a company of people who I do not recognise but feel are good friends. All of those I note as individuals are male. To the left of the track is a high shrub hedge, with few leaves. A voice, distinct from the voice of my own thoughts, and having (what I assume to be) the quality of a telepathic message shouts. “Watch out! Darts! Behind!”
I dive beneath the hedge, there seems to be a wooden gate to my left, and see, lying together, two blue dart flights (of the screw in type) with white plastic mounts. They have no head. Soon however a complete dart with the same type of flight lands close to my left arm. I see two more fly over the hedge to land near a crouching companion. He is wearing rustic clothes. I look through the branches of the hedge and see that the darts are being thrown by three riders, galloping down a field from right to left, parallel to the hedge. The ground slopes up and away from the hedge. I notice one rider in particular. He is wearing medieval garb, which includes a black leather waistcoat. All the riders are male.
The riders disappear and we resume walking. We leave the hedge line and the scenery becomes rounded and undulating. Toward my right I see a broad green valley covered in a light mist. Suddenly another group of similarly attired riders charge down on us from higher ground to our left. There must be at least ten or twelve of them. They are soldiers. All wear black leather waistcoats with gold studs, save one, who is later seen to be the leader. They surround us. Two dismount, the leader and what I presume to be his second-in-command. Someone behind me says “Robin Hood”. I turn to look at the speaker and in that instant I become aware that I have the identity of Robin Hood. I had not been aware of this previously and it fades quickly. I become aware that the leader of the riders has issued a challenge. I am to take it up.
I move to the leader's side and he indicates the nature of the challenge. Ahead of us in the branches of a solitary tree, which resembles an oak but possesses no leaves, there are two diagonally crossed arrows with their flights uppermost. The flights are blue. The object appears to be to hit these flights. I realise that I now have a bow and quiver full of arrows on my shoulder.
The second-in-command takes aim and looses his arrow, narrowly missing the flight of the arrow on the left. The leader takes aim and looses his arrow, which passes through one of the feathers making up the flight on the left.
I take the bow and quiver of arrows from my shoulder only to see that it contains arrows of different lengths, with different coloured flights. One arrow with red flights and another with black flights stand out. I turn to the leader and ask if I may borrow one of his arrows as I have I used my best in beating of the three riders who assailed us earlier. (Although I was not aware that this was the case and did not know that I possessed a bow and quiver until this later incident). He hands me an arrow with a blue flight. I notch the arrow and ask which flight, in the tree, I am to aim for, the left or the right. The second-in-command replies “For the one which isn’t there”.
I say nothing and take aim at the point where the shafts of the two arrows cross. I loose the arrow it flies straight and true striking the target and splitting both the arrows in half. They fall to the ground. I turn and say, ”I have hit the one which was not there. You now have four shafts where before you had but two”. He seems satisfied and they remount and ride off back up the slope. As they go I notch an arrow and loose it at the second-in-command. It hits him low in the side and he falls from his horse to the ground. The others ride on. He looks dead but I expect him to move again. Dusk is falling and we sit near the body talking. After a while I see him move. He has a dagger in his right hand. He begins to crawl forward raising his head off the ground. Holding an arrow I plunge it between the base of his neck and his clavicle. He sinks back to the ground. I withdraw the arrow to find its tip covered in black blood. Black blood pours from his neck to form a thin film over the ground in front of us. I light the tip of the arrow and put it to the blood, which burns with a luminous blue flame. We try to extinguish this burning patch with a shaggy fur coat but although we achieve some success small areas continue to burn.
We have been kneeling around the burning patch, which is not very big. We are not perturbed by the fact that we can not put it out. I look down towards the broad mist wreathed valley. It is almost dark.
Commentary: The world I depart from is solid and real. It is man made. Things fit together well and each component is clearly delineated from the next. This is the world of the "rational" mind, the analytical intellect. The world I am travelling to seems unreal, a fiction, while later the way ahead is mysterious and largely hidden from view. If I am to make this journey I must overcome doubts thrown at me by the rational mind, the current dominant force of my psyche. I must adopt flexible and creative ways of thinking if I am to meet the challenges that lie ahead.
Robin Hood? Taking from the rich and giving to the poor? The redistribution that is going on here is not so much of wealth but of psychic energy and focus - from the egoic rational mind to the intuitive unconscious mind. The blue flame that arises from the burning blood, of the soldier of the forces of rationality, gives warning not to go too far with this. The light of rationality with its powers of dissection, discernment and, yes, even doubt, will provide a valuable friend on the journey, if used wisely.
Robin Hood? Taking from the rich and giving to the poor? The redistribution that is going on here is not so much of wealth but of psychic energy and focus - from the egoic rational mind to the intuitive unconscious mind. The blue flame that arises from the burning blood, of the soldier of the forces of rationality, gives warning not to go too far with this. The light of rationality with its powers of dissection, discernment and, yes, even doubt, will provide a valuable friend on the journey, if used wisely.
Dream 7: 9th August 1972. Apocalypse foretold - The task to be undertaken
A rather elaborate UFO with several prominent vanes arrives at the steps of a rather grand building. It comes to a stop at the foot of three very wide steps, which front the building. Three figures emerge. At first I think they are Tibetan lamas. They have long hair coming down over their shoulders and long kaftans. They enter the building. Inside is a large hall with what appears to be a throne at the far end. The figures approach the throne. Their mode of locomotion strikes me as rather strange. They swing themselves along on their arms like chimpanzees. I wonder what kind of men these are. A rather old and ugly woman follows them. I am only aware of her face. She discloses to the person on the throne, whose identity remains obscure, that the world is heading for disaster. She expresses this in several ways. At one point the manner in which the three main parts of her UFO are superimposed seems important.
Change of scene: I am in a small low cubicle containing an instrument panel. I am forced to leave the instruments because the cubicle is becoming filled with smoke and I am having difficulty in breathing. A friend hands me a small respirator through a hatch in the back of the cubicle. I fit the respirator into my mouth and it releases oxygen while excluding the fumes. I leave the cubicle via the hatch.
Change of scene: I am in a large hall, more like a cave with modifications really. Set into the floor are large circles about two metres across which consist of translucent crystal, tinged lightly with various colours. I am walking with a friend. It is apparent that it is our task to descend into the pits below these crystalline hatches. My friend says that this is one trip he’s not going on. I concede that it's one we are highly likely never to return from but for myself I am prepared to go, although I have some reservations. I suggest to him that perhaps it will be easier if we get them to put a ladder down for us. He thinks this will make little difference.
We emerge from the hall and are climbing some metal stairs, which resemble a fire escape. We enter a large room in which seven or eight people are in charge of many technical instruments. There are two large rectangular screens dominating the room. It is made clear to us that any moment from our past life may be show on these screens. Extracts from my friend’s life are to be shown first. These “life showings” will determine whether we are fit for the task. The screen shows my friend in a large room surrounded by banks of instruments. Through one of these banks he is placing and removing objects from a boiler or reactor.
A rather elaborate UFO with several prominent vanes arrives at the steps of a rather grand building. It comes to a stop at the foot of three very wide steps, which front the building. Three figures emerge. At first I think they are Tibetan lamas. They have long hair coming down over their shoulders and long kaftans. They enter the building. Inside is a large hall with what appears to be a throne at the far end. The figures approach the throne. Their mode of locomotion strikes me as rather strange. They swing themselves along on their arms like chimpanzees. I wonder what kind of men these are. A rather old and ugly woman follows them. I am only aware of her face. She discloses to the person on the throne, whose identity remains obscure, that the world is heading for disaster. She expresses this in several ways. At one point the manner in which the three main parts of her UFO are superimposed seems important.
Change of scene: I am in a small low cubicle containing an instrument panel. I am forced to leave the instruments because the cubicle is becoming filled with smoke and I am having difficulty in breathing. A friend hands me a small respirator through a hatch in the back of the cubicle. I fit the respirator into my mouth and it releases oxygen while excluding the fumes. I leave the cubicle via the hatch.
Change of scene: I am in a large hall, more like a cave with modifications really. Set into the floor are large circles about two metres across which consist of translucent crystal, tinged lightly with various colours. I am walking with a friend. It is apparent that it is our task to descend into the pits below these crystalline hatches. My friend says that this is one trip he’s not going on. I concede that it's one we are highly likely never to return from but for myself I am prepared to go, although I have some reservations. I suggest to him that perhaps it will be easier if we get them to put a ladder down for us. He thinks this will make little difference.
We emerge from the hall and are climbing some metal stairs, which resemble a fire escape. We enter a large room in which seven or eight people are in charge of many technical instruments. There are two large rectangular screens dominating the room. It is made clear to us that any moment from our past life may be show on these screens. Extracts from my friend’s life are to be shown first. These “life showings” will determine whether we are fit for the task. The screen shows my friend in a large room surrounded by banks of instruments. Through one of these banks he is placing and removing objects from a boiler or reactor.
Commentary: Personified representatives of the unconscious arrive with appropriate pomp, ceremony and strangeness. They have different ways of going about things and when they tell you that disaster is at hand you'd better take notice. To emphasise the dangers the narrow confines of my egoic mind, my mental command and control centre - complete with appropriate instruments and dials, are clearly becoming uninhabitable. I'm offered a way out and wisely take it. Clearly there is an aspect of my mind that needs to leave and another (my friend) who is showing the way. Although the pressure is relieved and greater space found, its clear there is a long way to go yet. It looks a risky business, although the way ahead, through crystalline hatches, suggests the value and beauty of the path. Time for some review of where we've (I've) been and where we are (I am) going. Continue to monitor the situation and keep the steam up, keep the reactor going! A bigger and better version of the cauldron in Dream 1 methinks.
Here is map of North America showing the progressive limits of the “The West” through time. This lecturer is of the opinion that his facts are correct and not to be questioned. There is a hard certainty in his whole attitude.
Change of scene: I am with a few other people in a small room. The teacher is prepared to consider all sincerely held opinions. His attitude is open and relaxed and very calm. We finish talking. He goes to the sink and washes his face. He dries it meticulously dabbing the towel carefully to his cheeks.
Dream 21:15th October 1972. Surgery and operations
I enter a small operating theatre. I am to help perform an operation. I am aware that this is the first time I have assisted in this way. I am also aware that the operation is a kind of test, which will be judged.
The senior surgeon gives me a few words of advice. However, it is not him I am to assist but the surgeon directly below him in rank. The senior surgeon assures me that his colleague is in every way a competent man.
A nurse is also present. We prepare the theatre. While relocating the operating table it takes on the appearance of an ordinary domestic table with crockery on it. We tilt the table slightly and the crockery slides towards the edge. I am just able to grab the pieces before they fall. The surgeon arrives and takes off his coat. We move the operating table into a large lecture theatre. It is hear we are to perform the operation before an audience.
Change of scene: I am at home and have received a certificate. This is deep yellow in colour and has black print. It informs me that I have passed the exam …but only just. The certificate has various spaces on it to indicate whether the various vows to abide by certain attitudes that are required of a doctor have been taken. These have not been filled in and I am not therefore a fully qualified doctor and may not practice.
I enter a small operating theatre. I am to help perform an operation. I am aware that this is the first time I have assisted in this way. I am also aware that the operation is a kind of test, which will be judged.
The senior surgeon gives me a few words of advice. However, it is not him I am to assist but the surgeon directly below him in rank. The senior surgeon assures me that his colleague is in every way a competent man.
A nurse is also present. We prepare the theatre. While relocating the operating table it takes on the appearance of an ordinary domestic table with crockery on it. We tilt the table slightly and the crockery slides towards the edge. I am just able to grab the pieces before they fall. The surgeon arrives and takes off his coat. We move the operating table into a large lecture theatre. It is hear we are to perform the operation before an audience.
Change of scene: I am at home and have received a certificate. This is deep yellow in colour and has black print. It informs me that I have passed the exam …but only just. The certificate has various spaces on it to indicate whether the various vows to abide by certain attitudes that are required of a doctor have been taken. These have not been filled in and I am not therefore a fully qualified doctor and may not practice.
Dream 22: 20th October 1972. More Target Practice
I see before me a manuscript on which is written a list of names. Against each name is an appropriate symbol. I see my name. It is written in a rectilinear medieval script.
The nature of the sign next to it is not clear. I am told by a man’s voice that each name originally derived from and indicated the nature of the person concerned. As an example he will take a specific name. He indicates the original form of this name and explains that this reveals the person to be an inventor.
He will now show me how the bow and arrow was invented. He picks up a primitive looking bow and arrow and demonstrates the original form in which it was used. The arrow is notched but held at an odd angle to the bow in a way that means that it is not supported by the fingers holding the bow but extends into mid-air. I am told that a surprising number of people have achieved considerable proficiency in this method considering its relative inefficiency. Using this method the arrow follows a curved, arching path with little power.
He now indicates the proper, normal, method of using the bow. I am given the bow and a target indicated. This is a large crystal set in a blank wall. I aim and loose the arrow, it flies with strength, its path is straight and true. The crystal is hit squarely. It unlocks and unfolds, blossoming forth, then like a shell burst with a pale strong pinkish light.
I see before me a manuscript on which is written a list of names. Against each name is an appropriate symbol. I see my name. It is written in a rectilinear medieval script.
The nature of the sign next to it is not clear. I am told by a man’s voice that each name originally derived from and indicated the nature of the person concerned. As an example he will take a specific name. He indicates the original form of this name and explains that this reveals the person to be an inventor.
He will now show me how the bow and arrow was invented. He picks up a primitive looking bow and arrow and demonstrates the original form in which it was used. The arrow is notched but held at an odd angle to the bow in a way that means that it is not supported by the fingers holding the bow but extends into mid-air. I am told that a surprising number of people have achieved considerable proficiency in this method considering its relative inefficiency. Using this method the arrow follows a curved, arching path with little power.
He now indicates the proper, normal, method of using the bow. I am given the bow and a target indicated. This is a large crystal set in a blank wall. I aim and loose the arrow, it flies with strength, its path is straight and true. The crystal is hit squarely. It unlocks and unfolds, blossoming forth, then like a shell burst with a pale strong pinkish light.
A state of semi-consciousness? I seem to make out shadows of objects in my room. Or a very real dream?
Power! Energy! A brilliant light of large dimensions exists before the window. I see only its iridescent yellow-gold-white edge. Even this is tremendously bright. I cannot bring myself to look upon the centre.
Huge amounts of energy burn through my body and power through every nerve. Immense pleasure alternates with the fear that if look at the centre I really will let myself go. Succumb to the energy. This is a loss that I cannot let myself make.
Slowly the energy dies away. The whole experience seems to last for 15 to 20 minutes.
Commentary: To this day this remains one of the most powerful experiences of Openfoot's life. At the time it took him completely by surprise. Even now he is amazed that it came upon him so soon on his journey. It shook him to his core. He was not sure what to make of it. He decided to accept it as it was and to "bracket" its nature and meaning while the experience sank in. Above all it provided undoubted and irrevocable confirmation of the reality of the journey he had embarked upon. After this there could be no going back. He had to bottom this out, get to the root. And now? It seems a bit like carelessly putting your toe into a very hot bath. The SHOCK! of the new. But with repeated and continued contact the contrast is not so great and eventually becomes familiar and enjoyable. The very nature of the experience is itself transformed.
Dream 34: December 1972. Convalescence
I undergo a major abdominal operation. When I examine the scars I am much surprised by their extent. The stitches are still in. I must be very careful to be still and let the wound heal. Care must be taken not to reopen them.
I make a request to be moved from the building where the operation was carried out back to the main hospital. This request is granted after much consideration of the dangers of re-opening the wounds. I am wheeled back lying on a two wheeled trolley.
I undergo a major abdominal operation. When I examine the scars I am much surprised by their extent. The stitches are still in. I must be very careful to be still and let the wound heal. Care must be taken not to reopen them.
I make a request to be moved from the building where the operation was carried out back to the main hospital. This request is granted after much consideration of the dangers of re-opening the wounds. I am wheeled back lying on a two wheeled trolley.
Dream 39: Jan 1973. Death by Samurai
I am in a large hall, in a castle perhaps, with bare stone walls and little ornamentation anywhere. I am aware of a group of soldiers. Samurai? They are certainly of an archaic type. They are hostile. I am with a friend and it is clear that we must hide. There is a vertical shaft in the floor, we can hide there. My friend goes first leaving enough room for me to get in on top. The shaft is only just wide enough for my shoulders and I have to squeeze down inch by inch. When I’m done my head is only a few inches below the opening of the shaft. Inevitably the soldiers see me. They come over and start jabbing their spears down at me but with no real force. They cause numerous small wounds around my shoulders and chest. Eventually the torment becomes unbearable and I decide I must get out. I’ll bleed to death anyway if I stay where I am. I scramble out but no sooner than I have emerged than a sword is thrust into my right side to emerge through the left. I am killed.
The sword is withdrawn. As I fall to the floor blood pours everywhere covering a white sheet that is on the ground. The leader of the soldiers regards the resulting blood stained sheet as art. Moving down a corridor (Yes, I’m alive) I turn into a room on the right. Here, along with the blood stained sheets recording their deaths, are the preserved corpses of many other men set out formally, standing on pedestals.
I am in a large hall, in a castle perhaps, with bare stone walls and little ornamentation anywhere. I am aware of a group of soldiers. Samurai? They are certainly of an archaic type. They are hostile. I am with a friend and it is clear that we must hide. There is a vertical shaft in the floor, we can hide there. My friend goes first leaving enough room for me to get in on top. The shaft is only just wide enough for my shoulders and I have to squeeze down inch by inch. When I’m done my head is only a few inches below the opening of the shaft. Inevitably the soldiers see me. They come over and start jabbing their spears down at me but with no real force. They cause numerous small wounds around my shoulders and chest. Eventually the torment becomes unbearable and I decide I must get out. I’ll bleed to death anyway if I stay where I am. I scramble out but no sooner than I have emerged than a sword is thrust into my right side to emerge through the left. I am killed.
The sword is withdrawn. As I fall to the floor blood pours everywhere covering a white sheet that is on the ground. The leader of the soldiers regards the resulting blood stained sheet as art. Moving down a corridor (Yes, I’m alive) I turn into a room on the right. Here, along with the blood stained sheets recording their deaths, are the preserved corpses of many other men set out formally, standing on pedestals.
We arrive at a castle or the walls of an old town. There is a large archway through the wall. We consist of a largish group of about twenty. Most of our party proceed to enter through the archway while two friends and I remain outside. We peer through a hole in the wall to view the scene beyond.
We look out over a flat battlefield. Our associates, moving from the archway proceed from left to right to take on an opposing army. At first I think they’ve won easily. Spearmen charge from the left and drive off a small phalanx of the opposition. However, effective counter attacks by the opposing force soon take place. I quickly come to realise that this battle has continued for as long as I can envisage and will continue for as long as can be imagined. A slight feeling of despondency overcomes me.
The opposition fight in highly mobile, small, tight phalanxes. Spears are much in evidence. Their uniforms are rather strange and somewhat oriental in appearance. The tactics of the other armies, there seem to be at least three, are not so clear.
We decide to leave this place, as the prospect of continual warfare doesn’t seem to offer much. The decision is not however clear cut. Looking at myself I think, “What’s this? Running away from a fight? Ah well, so it goes”. A feeling of sadness comes over me when contemplating that things have come to this.
We take a car that is nearby. My male friend drives and my female friend sits in the passenger seat. I stay outside, presumably kneeling on the running board. We look at each other, smile, and away.
We haven’t gone far when we realise that we’ll have to get some petrol soon as there are only two gallons left and we’re not going to get far on that. We come to a garage at the top of hill. I am driving now? The garage is deserted and there is no petrol. We know that there are no more petrol stations for miles around and the fact that this one is deserted seems to be something of an omen. We are left with one alternative. To return. We start off back down the long hill. We note the yellow road markings.
Dream 68: 17th May 1973. Return to the Battlefield
I am tossed back and for between the light energy and me. Hammer and anvil spring to mind. I’m in between!
With a group of people I enter through a high archway in an ancient wall. On passing through the arch I suddenly realise that archers on top of the wall will shoot at us when we pass out on the other side. The others go on. I wait underneath. As the archers let fly I think there are sure to be casualties. I make a dash for it before they can draw their bows again.
Inside the wall is a flat unending green plane upon which a highly formalised battle is being fought. Obstacles seem to be scattered all across it with a group of soldiers being attached to each obstacle. I realise that these must be negotiated if the plane is to be crossed, although I’m not sure where I’m going. I manage to make my way a good distance across the plane by avoiding obstacles and combat.
Eventually I am set upon by a small, portly, armoured knight. The ensuing combat is formalised. After a little while I consider myself to have won but so does he. The official umpire is called in to decide the case and decides in my favour, awarding me my opponent's short sword and spear. Previously I possessed no armour or weapons. I am pleased by this turn of events. My opponent is sent back to go, to the archway, to start again.
Commentary: (With D63 above). The threshold was crossed some time ago. It is too late to have doubts about crossing it again, to have doubts about continuing, even though the way ahead seems difficult and fraught with turmoil and upheaval. Although tempted to give up there is no possibility of going back. There is nothing to be found, no energy, there. The decision to set out on the path is now clearly seen as an irrevocable one. Realising this, the inevitability of continuing forces progress along the path. The challenges are met and some protective practises and concepts acquired for the journey to come.
I am tossed back and for between the light energy and me. Hammer and anvil spring to mind. I’m in between!
With a group of people I enter through a high archway in an ancient wall. On passing through the arch I suddenly realise that archers on top of the wall will shoot at us when we pass out on the other side. The others go on. I wait underneath. As the archers let fly I think there are sure to be casualties. I make a dash for it before they can draw their bows again.
Inside the wall is a flat unending green plane upon which a highly formalised battle is being fought. Obstacles seem to be scattered all across it with a group of soldiers being attached to each obstacle. I realise that these must be negotiated if the plane is to be crossed, although I’m not sure where I’m going. I manage to make my way a good distance across the plane by avoiding obstacles and combat.
Eventually I am set upon by a small, portly, armoured knight. The ensuing combat is formalised. After a little while I consider myself to have won but so does he. The official umpire is called in to decide the case and decides in my favour, awarding me my opponent's short sword and spear. Previously I possessed no armour or weapons. I am pleased by this turn of events. My opponent is sent back to go, to the archway, to start again.
Commentary: (With D63 above). The threshold was crossed some time ago. It is too late to have doubts about crossing it again, to have doubts about continuing, even though the way ahead seems difficult and fraught with turmoil and upheaval. Although tempted to give up there is no possibility of going back. There is nothing to be found, no energy, there. The decision to set out on the path is now clearly seen as an irrevocable one. Realising this, the inevitability of continuing forces progress along the path. The challenges are met and some protective practises and concepts acquired for the journey to come.
I am sitting at a table with a female friend on my left, a male friend on my right. Opposite, across the table is a wall decorated with mandalas. I flow into the central madala, into the wall …an ecstatic feeling. Then I think I hear footsteps behind me. I think ”They can take advantage of me in my trance like state”. I am frightened by this thought into withdrawing from my connection with the mandala (an umbilical link had connected the awareness of me in my body and the me in the mandala/wall). A slight feeling of guilt remains at my lack of trust and the failing of my courage.
With my girlfriend we meet the wise man. He knows how we can make a journey to somewhere/ nowhere, the other side of the universe.
He usually makes the trip by utilising a time warp but in this case we must make a “conventional” trip. We are placed in steel shells and sent into orbit in a large space wheel, which carries many other shells. We must stay in orbit for a long time, about eighteen hours. We get a bit bored.
The time to set out is missed! We must return to earth. During re-entry we lose control. We are not now in our shells but in an ocean liner, it plunges towards the sea. We hit the water and capsize. Water rushes in up to the widows. How to get out? Two sailors rush past and leave through an emergency exit. We follow. I jump in to the ocean. My girlfriend shouts that I should beware of the propeller, it’s still going round. I see it threshing ineffectually in mid-air, no longer of any use. I miss it, just. I hit the water and float. I have a life jacket. My girlfriend prepares to jump from the door into the sea.
(That's quite a trip for your 21st Birthday)
83a: July 1973. Reports of a Death
The signs have gone up outside all the newspaper shops. All is revealed. A murder has been committed…… by me! My mother is comforted by the thought that it would be impossible for me to do such a thing.
The signs have gone up outside all the newspaper shops. All is revealed. A murder has been committed…… by me! My mother is comforted by the thought that it would be impossible for me to do such a thing.
Dream 95: 12th August 1973. Atop the Black Column
I am alone, standing on the top of a high black column that has a diameter of about 12 feet. All around grey mists hang silently. I however am far from silent. I am angry, agitated and frustrated. I run back and forth across the top of the column of unknown height. The base is hidden in the mist. I stamp and challenge with words and body postures “Come out you bastard! Where are you! Come out you bastard!” I have in my mind the image of some ghostly spectre, which I believe to be lurking in the mists. Nothing and nobody appears. Perhaps I am imagining its existence? It does not exist?
Commentary: The things of the world are cut away. There are no objects to be found, but old illusions remain. Stamp and curse, shout and holler, all to no avail. That which does not exist cannot be found, cannot be made to appear. Now in a very precarious position, old realities are severely undermined. There's not much left on which to make a stand. Go on searching for a self as long as you wish the Buddha was quite clear; you will not find one.
"For there is suffering, but none who suffers; Doing exists although there is no doer.Extinction is but no extinguished person; Although there is a path, there is no goer". Visuddhimagga
(See Early Jotting E1)
I am alone, standing on the top of a high black column that has a diameter of about 12 feet. All around grey mists hang silently. I however am far from silent. I am angry, agitated and frustrated. I run back and forth across the top of the column of unknown height. The base is hidden in the mist. I stamp and challenge with words and body postures “Come out you bastard! Where are you! Come out you bastard!” I have in my mind the image of some ghostly spectre, which I believe to be lurking in the mists. Nothing and nobody appears. Perhaps I am imagining its existence? It does not exist?
Commentary: The things of the world are cut away. There are no objects to be found, but old illusions remain. Stamp and curse, shout and holler, all to no avail. That which does not exist cannot be found, cannot be made to appear. Now in a very precarious position, old realities are severely undermined. There's not much left on which to make a stand. Go on searching for a self as long as you wish the Buddha was quite clear; you will not find one.
"For there is suffering, but none who suffers; Doing exists although there is no doer.Extinction is but no extinguished person; Although there is a path, there is no goer". Visuddhimagga
(See Early Jotting E1)
I am in a local park walking towards the rugby pitch from the town end. Looking towards the pitch I see lions emerging from the players entrance under the stand. The lions run out onto the pitch. I am reminded of a Roman amphitheatre. I had intended to walk around the pitch on the terrace side but I see that the lions are there. I decide to walk around the pitch on the stand side instead. As I change direction to carry out this decision I see two lions coming up the slope rather quickly. I change my mind again and decide to go around via the terrace. Turning once more I am confronted by a group of eight or so ape like hominids. Other than their face, which is relatively free, their bodies are covered by fine luminous green hair about four inches long. They seem to regard me as one of themselves, this make me feel a little bit easier. However, I am rather unsettled when they seem to be following me. I turn to the nearest and say “I am not one of you”.
“No” he replies “but we are one of you”.
Dream 109: 17th September 1973. Atlantians?
A row of divers all descend to 100 feet. One however (that’s me while I also observe) goes on to 1,000 feet. This causes great consternation in the man controlling the dive team. Everything must be done to bring him up. He’ll kill himself with the bends or something.
I return with a friend after a long journey into space. We are youthful but the people we know back on Earth are now very old, with grey hair etc. Surprisingly they appear to be youthfully fit. Even the babies have long flowing grey hair. Old Babies! It’s obvious. They are all very pleased to see us and make us feel very welcome. They are all “new friends” I don’t recognise any of them. They have no specific identities.
They form the gentlest, noblest people I could possibly imagine. Their women are very beautiful but everywhere the impression is of age. This is a race that has existed in this way for a very long time. There is great stability and calm.
A row of divers all descend to 100 feet. One however (that’s me while I also observe) goes on to 1,000 feet. This causes great consternation in the man controlling the dive team. Everything must be done to bring him up. He’ll kill himself with the bends or something.
I return with a friend after a long journey into space. We are youthful but the people we know back on Earth are now very old, with grey hair etc. Surprisingly they appear to be youthfully fit. Even the babies have long flowing grey hair. Old Babies! It’s obvious. They are all very pleased to see us and make us feel very welcome. They are all “new friends” I don’t recognise any of them. They have no specific identities.
They form the gentlest, noblest people I could possibly imagine. Their women are very beautiful but everywhere the impression is of age. This is a race that has existed in this way for a very long time. There is great stability and calm.
Dream 137: 30th December 1973. A Natural Way of Being
From the point at which the dream begins a commentary runs.
“ And now we must move to Lorraine, France”. Aerial views are accompanied by ”Shots from a moving plane over sparsely vegetated rocks with many lakes”. This reminds me of Scotland.
I find myself watching a group of children whose ages are about eleven to thirteen. Two children specifically form the centre of the scene. One, I presume , is French. The other is a Negro. They (along with the other children?) have been occupied in building model boats. I get the impression that this model boat building is an important part of some annual festival. It has a ceremonial air about it.
The two boys are about to test their boats both of which have very long hulls. The Negro boy launches his first. It sails out beautifully across the water. Having reached a good distance from the shore it turns quickly to the right. I am surprised at the tightness of the turn, considering the hulls length. Going on a little further it turns back towards the boy and having travelled on once again it turns to my left crossing its original course which has thus been a perfect square , with rounded corners.
Attention now focuses on the French boy’s model. As he begins to launch his boat I am aware, or have overheard from the watching crowd, that he has taken great care in making his boat. He has made numerous calculations, measurements and plans, whereas the Negro boy built his more with a natural flair and with an instinctive appreciation of what is required.
The French boy’s boat sets out across the water, which as previously is flat calm. Almost at once I have the impression that his model is not going to perform as well. It comes to make its first turn. I understand that it is to follow the same course as the Negro boy’s. Disaster! It capsizes (and sinks?). The French boy is in the water. He is holding his boat beneath the water and frantically trying to remould it with his hands in an attempt to correct failures in the design.
In the children’s school they are all standing in single file, queuing to receive a meal. The Negro boy stands out prominently. There is altogether some quality about this boy, of a love for life, a spontaneity, of a certain immediateness. He begins to hum and do a little dance. Soon the whole queue is following his example. Everyone is bopping around and humming in the queue.
The negro boy suddenly has an idea for an imaginary game of football. About five other boys fall out of the queue with him. They engage in the imaginary game, with mock laughs, cries of anguish, falling and kicking actions etc. The whole scene is one of people having fun, truly joyful. These emotions are especially prominent in the Negro boy .
From the point at which the dream begins a commentary runs.
“ And now we must move to Lorraine, France”. Aerial views are accompanied by ”Shots from a moving plane over sparsely vegetated rocks with many lakes”. This reminds me of Scotland.
I find myself watching a group of children whose ages are about eleven to thirteen. Two children specifically form the centre of the scene. One, I presume , is French. The other is a Negro. They (along with the other children?) have been occupied in building model boats. I get the impression that this model boat building is an important part of some annual festival. It has a ceremonial air about it.
The two boys are about to test their boats both of which have very long hulls. The Negro boy launches his first. It sails out beautifully across the water. Having reached a good distance from the shore it turns quickly to the right. I am surprised at the tightness of the turn, considering the hulls length. Going on a little further it turns back towards the boy and having travelled on once again it turns to my left crossing its original course which has thus been a perfect square , with rounded corners.
Attention now focuses on the French boy’s model. As he begins to launch his boat I am aware, or have overheard from the watching crowd, that he has taken great care in making his boat. He has made numerous calculations, measurements and plans, whereas the Negro boy built his more with a natural flair and with an instinctive appreciation of what is required.
The French boy’s boat sets out across the water, which as previously is flat calm. Almost at once I have the impression that his model is not going to perform as well. It comes to make its first turn. I understand that it is to follow the same course as the Negro boy’s. Disaster! It capsizes (and sinks?). The French boy is in the water. He is holding his boat beneath the water and frantically trying to remould it with his hands in an attempt to correct failures in the design.
In the children’s school they are all standing in single file, queuing to receive a meal. The Negro boy stands out prominently. There is altogether some quality about this boy, of a love for life, a spontaneity, of a certain immediateness. He begins to hum and do a little dance. Soon the whole queue is following his example. Everyone is bopping around and humming in the queue.
The negro boy suddenly has an idea for an imaginary game of football. About five other boys fall out of the queue with him. They engage in the imaginary game, with mock laughs, cries of anguish, falling and kicking actions etc. The whole scene is one of people having fun, truly joyful. These emotions are especially prominent in the Negro boy .
D142: 4th January 1974. Reporting back via Time Travel
I am a member (the leader?) of an Ancient British raiding party on a Roman barn. The barn is built against a high bank and this enables us to enter through openings high in the barns side. Once inside we are able to creep stealthily along the roof's beams and rafters. Several Roman guards stand motionless in the barn below. We leap down on them. After a harder fight than expected we mange to overcome them but now realise that there are more Roman soldiers in a separate section at the other end of the barn and that many more have gathered outside. A large wooden plank door separates us from the other section of the barn and it is clear that we can only leave the barn by going this way. We have no option but to open the door and fight our way out. We open the door. The ensuing action is long and fierce. We seem to have practically no weapons. I am forced to use weapons captured from the Roman soldiers. Roman short swords and small knives are much in evidence. I fight with the later. Eventually we are defeated, suffering heavy losses. I am lucky and manage to slip away without being captured.
I wander from village to village, seeking food, shelter and assistance, which are readily given. In the barn I was very sparsely clad with a thin skin waistcoat, shorts and boots. Now I find myself in strong leather boots, hose and a spectacular black tunic with a golden lion emblazoned across the chest.
I eventually find my way to what has apparently been my destination all along (and I now realise was my original point of departure). I am in a well-furnished nineteenth century drawing room in which a coffee table is prominent. This change of scene is sudden and surprises me although I have an instant recognition of the place. The room is set out as if it were a stage. It is open at the front as if to look out at the audience.
I come to attention at the front of the room and bow my head towards the room’s occupants; a group of about eight ladies and gentlemen who are appropriately dressed for the period. A man and woman appear to be jointly in charge of proceedings and they sit facing me. The others are arranged in a circle behind them.
I report that the mission has been largely successful. I have discovered the facts and have gained the knowledge that we decided I should go off in search of. It seems that I was once a member of their group. I relate what I have discovered and some of the adventures I have had along the way.
The impact of my report upon them seems minimal. They have an air of detached curiosity. Their curiosity has been fulfilled and they see no reason for any consequent course of action. They are content to remain as they are. The “head man” passes a comment to the effect that, “So that’s how it is”. “So that’s how it will end”.
This air of aloofness annoys me intensely. I storm out of the scene and pass around the left side of the stage. “Where are you going” they demand. “To save the world”, I reply in a sarcastic tone of voice which seems to reflect a belief that this can’t be done and questions or doesn’t believe that it needs “saving” anyway.
I am a member (the leader?) of an Ancient British raiding party on a Roman barn. The barn is built against a high bank and this enables us to enter through openings high in the barns side. Once inside we are able to creep stealthily along the roof's beams and rafters. Several Roman guards stand motionless in the barn below. We leap down on them. After a harder fight than expected we mange to overcome them but now realise that there are more Roman soldiers in a separate section at the other end of the barn and that many more have gathered outside. A large wooden plank door separates us from the other section of the barn and it is clear that we can only leave the barn by going this way. We have no option but to open the door and fight our way out. We open the door. The ensuing action is long and fierce. We seem to have practically no weapons. I am forced to use weapons captured from the Roman soldiers. Roman short swords and small knives are much in evidence. I fight with the later. Eventually we are defeated, suffering heavy losses. I am lucky and manage to slip away without being captured.
I wander from village to village, seeking food, shelter and assistance, which are readily given. In the barn I was very sparsely clad with a thin skin waistcoat, shorts and boots. Now I find myself in strong leather boots, hose and a spectacular black tunic with a golden lion emblazoned across the chest.
I eventually find my way to what has apparently been my destination all along (and I now realise was my original point of departure). I am in a well-furnished nineteenth century drawing room in which a coffee table is prominent. This change of scene is sudden and surprises me although I have an instant recognition of the place. The room is set out as if it were a stage. It is open at the front as if to look out at the audience.
I come to attention at the front of the room and bow my head towards the room’s occupants; a group of about eight ladies and gentlemen who are appropriately dressed for the period. A man and woman appear to be jointly in charge of proceedings and they sit facing me. The others are arranged in a circle behind them.
I report that the mission has been largely successful. I have discovered the facts and have gained the knowledge that we decided I should go off in search of. It seems that I was once a member of their group. I relate what I have discovered and some of the adventures I have had along the way.
The impact of my report upon them seems minimal. They have an air of detached curiosity. Their curiosity has been fulfilled and they see no reason for any consequent course of action. They are content to remain as they are. The “head man” passes a comment to the effect that, “So that’s how it is”. “So that’s how it will end”.
This air of aloofness annoys me intensely. I storm out of the scene and pass around the left side of the stage. “Where are you going” they demand. “To save the world”, I reply in a sarcastic tone of voice which seems to reflect a belief that this can’t be done and questions or doesn’t believe that it needs “saving” anyway.
D147: 12th January 1974. Union
I am sitting on a harbour wall. It appears to be of an old Cornish or Welsh type. The harbour has a narrow mouth with cliffs rising on either side. I am sitting near the mouth. I look across the harbour to the point on the opposite harbour wall. There I see a small grey wispy figure of a woman. She has a somewhat ghostlike appearance. My feelings towards this woman are predominantly of curiosity, no fear, no love. Suddenly she has transported herself across the harbour and is standing no more than a foot from me. I am still seated.
I begin to merge with her. As this occurs I become aware that she is the image of THAT ENERGY. I am frightened for a moment but then resolve, as I have previously promised myself, to merge with it fully this time.
We merge. I and it are one. Just pure golden light, soft, warm and loving. The transition to this state of total union is accompanied by a rushing, whooshing sound like a sharp inhalation of breath, quickly building in strength and terminating in a deep Uhhh!
This state exists momentarily. I become aware of my boldness in coming this far and rapidly withdraw. Or perhaps the cognition of my state can only occur by my withdrawing from it.
Afterwards there are feelings of surprise, amazement and satisfaction at the achievement. Growing in confidence I resolve to try and extend such periods. High-energy contentment prevails. There is excitement at the prospect of further exploration and future possibilities.
I am sitting on a harbour wall. It appears to be of an old Cornish or Welsh type. The harbour has a narrow mouth with cliffs rising on either side. I am sitting near the mouth. I look across the harbour to the point on the opposite harbour wall. There I see a small grey wispy figure of a woman. She has a somewhat ghostlike appearance. My feelings towards this woman are predominantly of curiosity, no fear, no love. Suddenly she has transported herself across the harbour and is standing no more than a foot from me. I am still seated.
I begin to merge with her. As this occurs I become aware that she is the image of THAT ENERGY. I am frightened for a moment but then resolve, as I have previously promised myself, to merge with it fully this time.
We merge. I and it are one. Just pure golden light, soft, warm and loving. The transition to this state of total union is accompanied by a rushing, whooshing sound like a sharp inhalation of breath, quickly building in strength and terminating in a deep Uhhh!
This state exists momentarily. I become aware of my boldness in coming this far and rapidly withdraw. Or perhaps the cognition of my state can only occur by my withdrawing from it.
Afterwards there are feelings of surprise, amazement and satisfaction at the achievement. Growing in confidence I resolve to try and extend such periods. High-energy contentment prevails. There is excitement at the prospect of further exploration and future possibilities.
I am in a Transit van outside a warehouse. I am informed that I have to go out on an errand. I get the impression that I’ll have to go out and give another van a tow or pick someone up. But no the boss appears with another executive, we are to go to a meeting at a local factory. We arrive at the factory. It’s a modern building in pleasant landscaped surroundings. In the factory grounds is a race track with several Formulae 1 racing cars parked up.
I become eager and look forward to having a drive in one of these but the boss says "No." This is not what we have come here for. We are to discuss something much more important.
We enter a long modern room with a glass front. Rows of chairs are set out. The room is equipped with a blackboard. A group of about eighty men eventually assemble. They are all dressed in executive suits. I am the only exception in my usual jeans etc. A man appears at the front and begins to lecture. He reveals a large model of a Saturn V launch vehicle. This is what we have come here for. To discuss its launching, trip, destination etc. I look on in awe. I know this is me. I identify strongly with that rocket! It’s my ride for sure! Think of the power and energy in that! Nothing can hold it down! Its away free! Spaced Out!
D149: 14th January 1974. Whoosh again
The identities of a large number of friends and relatives are suddenly impressed sharply and clearly on my mind. Suddenly the distinction disappears. We are one, in clear space with that rushing, whooshing sound again. Back out I’m a little surprised and shocked as before.
The identities of a large number of friends and relatives are suddenly impressed sharply and clearly on my mind. Suddenly the distinction disappears. We are one, in clear space with that rushing, whooshing sound again. Back out I’m a little surprised and shocked as before.
D155: 24th January 1974. Choose a wall, any wall - Outside the box
I am in some kind of room or cave, the walls of which are mobile and plastic, with swirling colours of green, brown and yellow. A few other people are also in the room. We are there together. We realise that this is the beginning. We know that we may step through the walls into some reality but we are not sure what to do. Which way to leave?
D157: 30th January 1974. A Ghost, a Wedding and a Birth
a) I view a blue-white ghost of the traditional shapeless sheet form but with a clownish face. I become the ghost. I see through its eyes. The world appears in monochrome, which in this case is the same range of blue-white hues as the ghost itself appears when seen from the outside.
The ghost is laid! Its blue sheet like form lies stuck to a dark brown muddy surface, decomposing. I prod a hole in its upper chest and dislodge a fly. I flick a piece of snot from its nostril. It decomposes and dissolves completely.
b) I am in some kind of small surgery. Doctors and nurses are in attendance. My wife is coming in to have our baby (In “the real world” I'm not married or intending at this point). I know I love her very much but she is not strikingly beautiful or pretty, quite average in fact. I want to stay and watch her have our baby but I think I’m going to faint or something. I still want to stay but the doctor insists that I go and wait in another part of the room. A nurse comes after a while and tells me that our baby has been born. No gender is specified.
I subsequently note that this is a 1 year 9 month gestation from the start of the dream diary.
a) I view a blue-white ghost of the traditional shapeless sheet form but with a clownish face. I become the ghost. I see through its eyes. The world appears in monochrome, which in this case is the same range of blue-white hues as the ghost itself appears when seen from the outside.
The ghost is laid! Its blue sheet like form lies stuck to a dark brown muddy surface, decomposing. I prod a hole in its upper chest and dislodge a fly. I flick a piece of snot from its nostril. It decomposes and dissolves completely.
b) I am in some kind of small surgery. Doctors and nurses are in attendance. My wife is coming in to have our baby (In “the real world” I'm not married or intending at this point). I know I love her very much but she is not strikingly beautiful or pretty, quite average in fact. I want to stay and watch her have our baby but I think I’m going to faint or something. I still want to stay but the doctor insists that I go and wait in another part of the room. A nurse comes after a while and tells me that our baby has been born. No gender is specified.
I subsequently note that this is a 1 year 9 month gestation from the start of the dream diary.
D158: 1st February 1974. Conception, Repeatability and Doubt
I am at a party. The building and room where it is taking place are unknown to me. My girlfriend is there. During the party some facts come to light that disturb me. My girlfriend has started using drugs.
I start dancing with an unknown girl with long dark hair. She is only semi-conscious. This doesn’t prevent me from achieving penetration and reaching orgasm while still dancing with her. I sit down and my girlfriend reveals to me that the girl I have danced with is not on the pill and has definitely conceived a child as a result of my actions.
In another room a group of people are sitting down near a window. A male friend of mine is speaking; his comments are along the lines of, “ Yes it's encouraging. I’ve read your dream books and the fact that you are able to repeat these experiences again and again and again and again and again and again is very good. I think that it’s very significant but I still find myself wondering if you have really had these experiences”.
I am at a party. The building and room where it is taking place are unknown to me. My girlfriend is there. During the party some facts come to light that disturb me. My girlfriend has started using drugs.
I start dancing with an unknown girl with long dark hair. She is only semi-conscious. This doesn’t prevent me from achieving penetration and reaching orgasm while still dancing with her. I sit down and my girlfriend reveals to me that the girl I have danced with is not on the pill and has definitely conceived a child as a result of my actions.
In another room a group of people are sitting down near a window. A male friend of mine is speaking; his comments are along the lines of, “ Yes it's encouraging. I’ve read your dream books and the fact that you are able to repeat these experiences again and again and again and again and again and again is very good. I think that it’s very significant but I still find myself wondering if you have really had these experiences”.
D164: February 18 1974. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice?
I am cooking a meal for my friends. They are sat at the table looking on. A single large pot is on the stove. It contains a dish composed largely of egg. The mixture rises and begins to overflow. It is fairly supple but retains its shape pretty well. I grab as much as I can as it flops over the rim and half throw, half place it on my friends’ plates.
They are very amused by the whole affair and are all laughing and making funny comments. I keep turning back and forth as I carry more of the overflowing mixture from the pot to their plates. I am rushing frantically. Is it never going to stop?
I am cooking a meal for my friends. They are sat at the table looking on. A single large pot is on the stove. It contains a dish composed largely of egg. The mixture rises and begins to overflow. It is fairly supple but retains its shape pretty well. I grab as much as I can as it flops over the rim and half throw, half place it on my friends’ plates.
They are very amused by the whole affair and are all laughing and making funny comments. I keep turning back and forth as I carry more of the overflowing mixture from the pot to their plates. I am rushing frantically. Is it never going to stop?
I am looking under the bonnet of my Transit van. The boss comes up to see what I am doing. I have the distributor cap off. I suspect the points are dirty; that’s why it won’t start. The boss suggest that it’s actually because the rotor arm is missing. I show it him in my right hand.
Within the distributor is a system of cogs and wheels of clear Perspex but dotted symmetrically around them are round beads of many bright colours. I’m sure it’s the points. I take them out only to find that they are a piece of dried grass bent in a U-shape. These pieces are lying within the other. They spring out of my hand and get blown down the road. I manage to retrieve them. No wonder it won’t start. They are all dry and brittle and broken and not joined up at the top.
D173: 8th March 1974. Stairway to – the top of a mountain
I am with three other men. We are standing on the lower slopes of a tall surrealist mountain, which rises up from a featureless plane. I get the impression that we belong to some force like the FBI, plain clothes men anyway. Somebody says that if we go up the frozen staircase, rather than around on the plane, we have a good chance of getting there before them. (It’s not clear who they are). We set off up the ice staircase. The steps are very small and close together. On the way up one of the men explains that the staircase was constructed by a single man, who devoted his whole life to the task.
Reaching the end of the staircase we find evidence of his work; his tools and various fragments of ice that have been cut off in shaping the next step. The staircase leads to a fairly wide stone path which ends at a cliff face about twenty-five yards further on. To the right of this point are a pair of iron bar gates. They are very old. The one on the right is partly off its hinges while the one on the left is quite secure. They are half open.
We walk through them into a large room that has been hewn from the living rock. It gives the impression of great antiquity. The room is in a state of general disarray; stone objects lie scattered about. An altar is to the left? It seems that this was formerly a room of considerable importance. A state room perhaps or some sort of religious centre.
There only seem to be three of us now. It’s pretty dark inside the room. We hear something scuffling about against the wall. I ask for the single torch that we are carrying. Passed to me the beam is a very weak light and hardly has any effect at all. The scuffling moves towards the right. I flash the light.
It is enough for us to catch a glimpse of a salamander like creature about six feet long, including a tail of about two and half feet in length. It is predominantly black in colour and slightly slimy. Across the top of its head and going a little way down its stout stubby neck are a series of yellow flashes. Along its side, towards the arch of its back, are a series of white spots running back are far as the base of its tail.
The creature continues to move to the right until it comes to the far wall where it is forced to turn ninety degrees and proceed along the wall that runs toward us. Somehow it makes its way outside and turns another ninety degrees to make its way along the stone path. We now begin to feel that it threatens us. We catch glimpses of it in the beam of the torch, as it comes ever closer. I climb up to the top of the stable iron gate. The other two go and climb the one that is loose on its hinges. I shout to tell them to climb down and join me on the secure one. Their gate is liable to collapse under their weight. They heed my advice.
The thing stands at the foot of the gate looking up at us.
Change of scene: I am outside what I now realise is a chamber just under the mountain’s peak. Although I know my body is still inside the chamber I am observing from outside where I am presented with the following sight.
A group of firemen clad in full uniform and carrying a standard hose are rushing towards the top of the mountain. I realise that this is in an effort to save us. They reach the summit and begin dowsing it with water.
Back inside the chamber we are still at the top of the gate. The water begins to pour through from the outside. We get soaking wet. This annoys us. What the bloody hell are they playing at up there. We do not seem to be in any immediate danger from the reptile/amphibian below.
I am with three other men. We are standing on the lower slopes of a tall surrealist mountain, which rises up from a featureless plane. I get the impression that we belong to some force like the FBI, plain clothes men anyway. Somebody says that if we go up the frozen staircase, rather than around on the plane, we have a good chance of getting there before them. (It’s not clear who they are). We set off up the ice staircase. The steps are very small and close together. On the way up one of the men explains that the staircase was constructed by a single man, who devoted his whole life to the task.
Reaching the end of the staircase we find evidence of his work; his tools and various fragments of ice that have been cut off in shaping the next step. The staircase leads to a fairly wide stone path which ends at a cliff face about twenty-five yards further on. To the right of this point are a pair of iron bar gates. They are very old. The one on the right is partly off its hinges while the one on the left is quite secure. They are half open.
We walk through them into a large room that has been hewn from the living rock. It gives the impression of great antiquity. The room is in a state of general disarray; stone objects lie scattered about. An altar is to the left? It seems that this was formerly a room of considerable importance. A state room perhaps or some sort of religious centre.
There only seem to be three of us now. It’s pretty dark inside the room. We hear something scuffling about against the wall. I ask for the single torch that we are carrying. Passed to me the beam is a very weak light and hardly has any effect at all. The scuffling moves towards the right. I flash the light.
It is enough for us to catch a glimpse of a salamander like creature about six feet long, including a tail of about two and half feet in length. It is predominantly black in colour and slightly slimy. Across the top of its head and going a little way down its stout stubby neck are a series of yellow flashes. Along its side, towards the arch of its back, are a series of white spots running back are far as the base of its tail.
The creature continues to move to the right until it comes to the far wall where it is forced to turn ninety degrees and proceed along the wall that runs toward us. Somehow it makes its way outside and turns another ninety degrees to make its way along the stone path. We now begin to feel that it threatens us. We catch glimpses of it in the beam of the torch, as it comes ever closer. I climb up to the top of the stable iron gate. The other two go and climb the one that is loose on its hinges. I shout to tell them to climb down and join me on the secure one. Their gate is liable to collapse under their weight. They heed my advice.
The thing stands at the foot of the gate looking up at us.
Change of scene: I am outside what I now realise is a chamber just under the mountain’s peak. Although I know my body is still inside the chamber I am observing from outside where I am presented with the following sight.
A group of firemen clad in full uniform and carrying a standard hose are rushing towards the top of the mountain. I realise that this is in an effort to save us. They reach the summit and begin dowsing it with water.
Back inside the chamber we are still at the top of the gate. The water begins to pour through from the outside. We get soaking wet. This annoys us. What the bloody hell are they playing at up there. We do not seem to be in any immediate danger from the reptile/amphibian below.
D174b: 9th March 1974. At home in the ocean
I am swimming strongly, away from a sandy beach, through a calm sea. I'm surprised by the strength of my strokes and the efficiency of my breathing.
I am now far out at sea, no land can be seen. The water is warm and calm. I roll over and float on my back I am very content, as if I had been born in the sea and lived in it all my life.
I become aware that something is becoming entangled around my left leg. I sink down to see what it is and find myself descending through nylon ropes drifting from a yacht that has sunk and now hangs motionless just below the surface. I start to become afraid of being completely entangled in these ropes and drowning but I find that either I have no difficulty in breathing underwater or that breathing is not necessary here. There is no cause to worry. At this discovery I continue let myself descend slowly through the water column. I pass through all the ropes without becoming entangled.
The water is perfectly clear and visibility excellent. The descent is very enjoyable. The water is so warm and cosy. After a little while I land gently on the sandy bottom. Fears about increased pressure on my eardrums also seem to be unfounded.
I start to walk along the bottom, back towards the shore. I pass through row after row of shelves. An underwater library it would seem.
Commentary: Openfoot posted this dream on the Facebook page of Jung Hearted where it prompted this comment from a visitor "It sounds like you became aware of the tremendous energy coming from archetypes especially the central component,enabling you to have the strength of your strokes and breathing efficiency.Then you descend into the unconscious/water, with a possibility of danger to your ego/yacht. But you see that different laws apply here.There is a positive prognosis in that you adjust to this transcendental realm and are on your way back to consciousness with News of the Kingdom. Your also open to more collective knowledge from men who have made this journey before you and written about it". Openfoot replied that while he was happy with the general thrust of this interpretation the words " News of the Kingdom" would never pass his lips.
I am swimming strongly, away from a sandy beach, through a calm sea. I'm surprised by the strength of my strokes and the efficiency of my breathing.
I am now far out at sea, no land can be seen. The water is warm and calm. I roll over and float on my back I am very content, as if I had been born in the sea and lived in it all my life.
I become aware that something is becoming entangled around my left leg. I sink down to see what it is and find myself descending through nylon ropes drifting from a yacht that has sunk and now hangs motionless just below the surface. I start to become afraid of being completely entangled in these ropes and drowning but I find that either I have no difficulty in breathing underwater or that breathing is not necessary here. There is no cause to worry. At this discovery I continue let myself descend slowly through the water column. I pass through all the ropes without becoming entangled.
The water is perfectly clear and visibility excellent. The descent is very enjoyable. The water is so warm and cosy. After a little while I land gently on the sandy bottom. Fears about increased pressure on my eardrums also seem to be unfounded.
I start to walk along the bottom, back towards the shore. I pass through row after row of shelves. An underwater library it would seem.
Commentary: Openfoot posted this dream on the Facebook page of Jung Hearted where it prompted this comment from a visitor "It sounds like you became aware of the tremendous energy coming from archetypes especially the central component,enabling you to have the strength of your strokes and breathing efficiency.Then you descend into the unconscious/water, with a possibility of danger to your ego/yacht. But you see that different laws apply here.There is a positive prognosis in that you adjust to this transcendental realm and are on your way back to consciousness with News of the Kingdom. Your also open to more collective knowledge from men who have made this journey before you and written about it". Openfoot replied that while he was happy with the general thrust of this interpretation the words " News of the Kingdom" would never pass his lips.
D176b: 15th March 1974. The Cosmic Book
They show me a cosmic book with green pages and gold lettering. I observe two main sections. The first consists of a highly complicated system of symbols in red black and brown. These represent subdivisions of reality. Lines making connections between the symbols show the way in which the subdivisions intersect.
Below these on the page are short poems or aphorisms. They are the quintessence of what has been stated about ALL by beings throughout history. One in particular attracts my attention. It reads something like this.
They show me a cosmic book with green pages and gold lettering. I observe two main sections. The first consists of a highly complicated system of symbols in red black and brown. These represent subdivisions of reality. Lines making connections between the symbols show the way in which the subdivisions intersect.
Below these on the page are short poems or aphorisms. They are the quintessence of what has been stated about ALL by beings throughout history. One in particular attracts my attention. It reads something like this.
All
All to All
The growing green light
Draws me on and on and on
Growing, flowing, pulsating
Being, All to All
All, All, All
All to All
All………….. tra la la
D179b: 19th March1974. Translucent Meteors - Meeting Aliens
I am on a beach with a small group of people, other groups of two’s, three’s and four’s are loosely spread about. Everyone is chatting and playing games. The evening is drawing to a close and the light is getting dim.
Suddenly, what we think is a heavy shower of meteors sear across the darkening sky. Some land close by sending up plumes of smoke and sparks. One smashes down onto the beach. It is a glowing sphere about twenty feet in diameter and constructed of hexagonal plates. It rests on the beach. It has made no crater. It sits there glowing orange with heat. Looking closely we see that it is translucent allowing us to see signs of movement inside. Three tall figures, also glowing orange, lurch out of the sphere. They look in a desperate condition but they soon cool down and take on a metallic blue hue.
Now in a large living room, the aliens are with us. They are basically humanoid although still of abnormally large size. There are about half-a-dozen of them, both male and female.
I go and sit opposite the male alien at the table. He has a slightly yellowish face. They all give the impression of great wisdom and seem to be involved in the running of the universe. They know what it is all about. I’m very cheeky. I challenge his wisdom in an insubordinate fashion, conveying the attitude that I probably know as much as about the generalities as he does.
He is a little sceptical but says that he knows a suitable test of my claims. Our faces come close together and we look into each others eyes. Our minds merge almost instantly - into free space, the liberating, embracing space of ALL. He’s surprised and I’m delighted that I’ve risen to the occasion. I feel as though I am a child of this man. Although my knowledge rivals his, his personality has more weight and authority.
We go out on a canoe trip with one of the aliens. We paddle through reeds and eventually come to some open water. The male alien now proceeds to demonstrate and instruct. He shows how our mode of transport over water is very inefficient. He produces a single ski which appears to be self propelled. We soon master the art of skimming over the water at high speed and I delight in my new found freedom and mobility. I enjoy a childish delight and sense of innocence from mastering the task.
Commentary: Well, here they come! Descending from the heavens. In times gone by, or with a different mind set, they might have been angels or deities. For Openfoot these archetypes of wisdom are in the guise of aliens. Arriving on the strand line, the interface of the rational and intuitive mind, they emerge and wisdom comes face to face with notions of an everyday self. The challenge is taken up and immediately the illusory nature of both parties is revealed as their identities dissolve into the spaciousness and freedom of that which just IS. Learn from this and develop the ability to ride on the cutting edge of the now, to enjoy the energetic flow of the ever becoming, ever present.
I am on a beach with a small group of people, other groups of two’s, three’s and four’s are loosely spread about. Everyone is chatting and playing games. The evening is drawing to a close and the light is getting dim.
Suddenly, what we think is a heavy shower of meteors sear across the darkening sky. Some land close by sending up plumes of smoke and sparks. One smashes down onto the beach. It is a glowing sphere about twenty feet in diameter and constructed of hexagonal plates. It rests on the beach. It has made no crater. It sits there glowing orange with heat. Looking closely we see that it is translucent allowing us to see signs of movement inside. Three tall figures, also glowing orange, lurch out of the sphere. They look in a desperate condition but they soon cool down and take on a metallic blue hue.
Now in a large living room, the aliens are with us. They are basically humanoid although still of abnormally large size. There are about half-a-dozen of them, both male and female.
I go and sit opposite the male alien at the table. He has a slightly yellowish face. They all give the impression of great wisdom and seem to be involved in the running of the universe. They know what it is all about. I’m very cheeky. I challenge his wisdom in an insubordinate fashion, conveying the attitude that I probably know as much as about the generalities as he does.
He is a little sceptical but says that he knows a suitable test of my claims. Our faces come close together and we look into each others eyes. Our minds merge almost instantly - into free space, the liberating, embracing space of ALL. He’s surprised and I’m delighted that I’ve risen to the occasion. I feel as though I am a child of this man. Although my knowledge rivals his, his personality has more weight and authority.
We go out on a canoe trip with one of the aliens. We paddle through reeds and eventually come to some open water. The male alien now proceeds to demonstrate and instruct. He shows how our mode of transport over water is very inefficient. He produces a single ski which appears to be self propelled. We soon master the art of skimming over the water at high speed and I delight in my new found freedom and mobility. I enjoy a childish delight and sense of innocence from mastering the task.
Commentary: Well, here they come! Descending from the heavens. In times gone by, or with a different mind set, they might have been angels or deities. For Openfoot these archetypes of wisdom are in the guise of aliens. Arriving on the strand line, the interface of the rational and intuitive mind, they emerge and wisdom comes face to face with notions of an everyday self. The challenge is taken up and immediately the illusory nature of both parties is revealed as their identities dissolve into the spaciousness and freedom of that which just IS. Learn from this and develop the ability to ride on the cutting edge of the now, to enjoy the energetic flow of the ever becoming, ever present.
D180: 21st March 1974. The Examination
With a group of other people I am taking an examination. It is the final exam of my degree. We all sit down at desks in a large hall. The exam papers are laid out before us. They have been poorly set out and are printed on a rough quality paper.
I am of the opinion that the whole affair is a farce. The exam is in two main parts. The first comprises a lengthy and involved comprehension. The passage seems to concern itself only with a discussion of trivialities. The second part is along the lines of an intelligence test and requires the matching of symbols.
I become so annoyed with the sheer pointlessness of the whole affair, especially the comprehension, that I refuse to sit the exam. I write my name on the top of the examination sheet and walk out.
Back at school I meet up with friend. They beckon me over and whisper that because I walked out of the exam they are threatening to fail everybody. This annoys me. Why should they fail everybody? I was the one who walked out!
I determine to go and find out what’s really going on. I march off downstairs to find the Chief Examiner. He is there along with his assistant, who sits to one side and says nothing throughout. The Chief Examiner has something of devilish character about him.
I ask if this is all about someone walking out of the exam. “That’s correct”, he says. However, he’s not sure who it was although the person wrote their name on the top of the exam sheet. He thinks he’d be able to recognise a specimen of the same handwriting.
I borrow a circular white pen that seems rather limp and bends over at the top. Beneath the signature on the top of the exam paper I sign my name. They are identical. The Chief Examiner looks up “So it was you!"
He now produces some pictures that have a dream like aspect. There are four or five and he asks me to interpret them. I find no difficulty in doing this.
One is of a Red Indian tied to a stake with a troop of lance bearing cavalry charging down on him. I interpret this as the attack of convention, orthodoxy, and formal organisation upon the true self, represented by the Indian. He says nothing and, as examiners do, passes on to the next picture.
All is OK until the fourth or fifth picture when I come unstuck.
This picture shows a sensuous woman (Think, Roxy Music – Stranded). On her left thigh is a line drawing of a tree frog – the ones with suckers on their finger tips. On her right leg is a triangular symbol.
With a group of other people I am taking an examination. It is the final exam of my degree. We all sit down at desks in a large hall. The exam papers are laid out before us. They have been poorly set out and are printed on a rough quality paper.
I am of the opinion that the whole affair is a farce. The exam is in two main parts. The first comprises a lengthy and involved comprehension. The passage seems to concern itself only with a discussion of trivialities. The second part is along the lines of an intelligence test and requires the matching of symbols.
I become so annoyed with the sheer pointlessness of the whole affair, especially the comprehension, that I refuse to sit the exam. I write my name on the top of the examination sheet and walk out.
Back at school I meet up with friend. They beckon me over and whisper that because I walked out of the exam they are threatening to fail everybody. This annoys me. Why should they fail everybody? I was the one who walked out!
I determine to go and find out what’s really going on. I march off downstairs to find the Chief Examiner. He is there along with his assistant, who sits to one side and says nothing throughout. The Chief Examiner has something of devilish character about him.
I ask if this is all about someone walking out of the exam. “That’s correct”, he says. However, he’s not sure who it was although the person wrote their name on the top of the exam sheet. He thinks he’d be able to recognise a specimen of the same handwriting.
I borrow a circular white pen that seems rather limp and bends over at the top. Beneath the signature on the top of the exam paper I sign my name. They are identical. The Chief Examiner looks up “So it was you!"
He now produces some pictures that have a dream like aspect. There are four or five and he asks me to interpret them. I find no difficulty in doing this.
One is of a Red Indian tied to a stake with a troop of lance bearing cavalry charging down on him. I interpret this as the attack of convention, orthodoxy, and formal organisation upon the true self, represented by the Indian. He says nothing and, as examiners do, passes on to the next picture.
All is OK until the fourth or fifth picture when I come unstuck.
This picture shows a sensuous woman (Think, Roxy Music – Stranded). On her left thigh is a line drawing of a tree frog – the ones with suckers on their finger tips. On her right leg is a triangular symbol.
I am in a rather nebulous form, in a small room with an attractive girl. We are obviously deeply involved emotionally but my misty existence and her physicality preclude any physical involvement. She remarks that I’ve really gone and done it this time. How can we carry on under these circumstances? I tell her that I’ll try and materialise. I become a number of rectangular coloured cards. I try to pull a body together out of these but I get no further than shown and collapse on the floor. She sighs. She knew that I’d never make it.
I suggest that there is, of course, another alternative. She can become misty, like me. As I swirl about as a misty white smoke she can hardly bring herself to take the suggestion seriously and says “No chance”.
I am in what I presume to be a huge tower block. I am with a group of people who seem to be mostly family. We start near the top and descend what has every appearance of being an endless succession of stairs. Sometimes we appear to have reached the bottom but find that we can go further and descend into yet lower rooms through trap doors in the floor, odd openings etc.
Eventually we come to the basement and enter through the door. It's dark and the smell of disuse fills the room, There are cobwebs everywhere. We realise that this must be the end. We can go no further. But what a place to end up! Suddenly the room is filled with light and on the far wall a symbol glows and pulsates in red and orange.
We stand staring in amazement. Turning to each other we ask, “What is this”? We gradually discern that there are stirrings taking place on the other walls. Two young Nordic men and two similar girls arise from coffins. We see that they are “composing”’ (the decomposing process in reverse) before our very eyes until they stand as perfectly healthy young men and women again. They have retuned to life after a long sleep.
I am on the way to my first day of teaching practice. A childhood friend who is starting teaching practice too accompanies me. We are the first to arrive in the schools staff room. The teachers are of that alien race I met in D179, both male and female are present. Other student teachers arrive at intervals, one man and two girls. We fall into a general discussion in which our inexperience and our lack of knowledge and wisdom soon become evident.
We set about playing a game in which each player adds small rectilinear components together to make a lattice. A player’s turn is terminated when he can no longer successfully add pieces. They, the alien teachers, are extremely adept at adding pieces. They seem to be able to pick up three or four pieces at once in some sort of flicking motion, the pieces falling neatly into place in the lattice.
I am eager for my turn although I doubt that I will be able to place a single piece successfully, even if I’m at my most dexterous. I am severely disgruntled when the player on my left terminates his go and I am not allowed to follow. I am assured that according to the rules the order of play must reverse at this point. Consequently the player to the left of the one who has terminated his go commences his second turn.
and 197b: Catch Ottery Thing at Four?
We are now up on some moorland and involved in a hunt for an agile ferret or otter like creature. We eventually manage to grab it by the tail. It seems very slippery. I expect to lose my grip at any moment but to my amazement I am able to hold on until the others arrive. We wrap it up in an old raincoat. We now have it secure. I don’t think it will escape again.
D198: 28th April 1974. Wow! Oh what a night!
I am sitting cross-legged on the floor. I am holding hands (or more correctly I am holding his) with a male friend who sits cross-legged opposite me. I know we can make it. Energy starts to pulse back and forth between us then wooomph! Suddenly out and into that wide, wide, white open space. Everything I see has waves and ripples passing through it. WE look each other in the face and we laugh with uncontrolled joy. We laugh and laugh and laugh. I try to speak to him, he tries to speak to me. Mouths move but we hear no sound except laughter, which seems as if it is coming from a long way off. Of course, how stupid. Communication by word in this state?! WE are both their together, each being totally aware of the other in all aspects, we are individual entities existing within the same awareness. The awareness is the same, only the fact that we represent different points of cognition of that same awareness separates us.
I think how good it would be to tell other friends of this. At home with Mum and Dad I try to tell them. A baby boy is also in our company. Dad says we really should take him to the doctor to see about the love bite on his neck. It looks nasty. It seems that only I recognise it as a control knob to regulate the amount of cosmic energy entering me. I am the baby.
My mind flows free, the many different spaces combing in different ways. Entering back into my body and bed for a quick comparison, knowing I am completely free to move out again at will. Rippling energy, expansiveness. The future draws in, the past no longer exists, just this moment. I project to future and past spaces and withdraw again. The one I am in now is on the up and down line. Complete mobility, freedom. Wow! and Oh Good Golly Gosh!
I am sitting cross-legged on the floor. I am holding hands (or more correctly I am holding his) with a male friend who sits cross-legged opposite me. I know we can make it. Energy starts to pulse back and forth between us then wooomph! Suddenly out and into that wide, wide, white open space. Everything I see has waves and ripples passing through it. WE look each other in the face and we laugh with uncontrolled joy. We laugh and laugh and laugh. I try to speak to him, he tries to speak to me. Mouths move but we hear no sound except laughter, which seems as if it is coming from a long way off. Of course, how stupid. Communication by word in this state?! WE are both their together, each being totally aware of the other in all aspects, we are individual entities existing within the same awareness. The awareness is the same, only the fact that we represent different points of cognition of that same awareness separates us.
I think how good it would be to tell other friends of this. At home with Mum and Dad I try to tell them. A baby boy is also in our company. Dad says we really should take him to the doctor to see about the love bite on his neck. It looks nasty. It seems that only I recognise it as a control knob to regulate the amount of cosmic energy entering me. I am the baby.
My mind flows free, the many different spaces combing in different ways. Entering back into my body and bed for a quick comparison, knowing I am completely free to move out again at will. Rippling energy, expansiveness. The future draws in, the past no longer exists, just this moment. I project to future and past spaces and withdraw again. The one I am in now is on the up and down line. Complete mobility, freedom. Wow! and Oh Good Golly Gosh!
D214: 5th June 1974. Death and Reincarnation
I am in a party of people walking over undulating grassy hills. One of the group, who I seem to identify as my brother, has a heart condition. He succumbs to a heart attack and is about to die. I hold him in my arms and sing him some kind of metaphysical nursery rhyme. I am surprised by my own ability to sing and considering that I am spontaneously producing the lyrics the ease with which they run along is amazing. They go something like this:
I am in a party of people walking over undulating grassy hills. One of the group, who I seem to identify as my brother, has a heart condition. He succumbs to a heart attack and is about to die. I hold him in my arms and sing him some kind of metaphysical nursery rhyme. I am surprised by my own ability to sing and considering that I am spontaneously producing the lyrics the ease with which they run along is amazing. They go something like this:
A dying man
But younger, as you
Go through to merge
With star points
And with All
Beaming as a baby
Now
Your mind flows
Back to its beginnings
As illusions of a lifetime
Fall away
Warm light will flow
Drawing you on
To
All’s star points
Fuse into blissful
Eternity
This has a wonderful calming effect upon him and as he dies his “liberation” is paralleled by a physical metamorphosis the culmination of which is his appearance as a foetus whose human features are beginning to fade away.
The whole affair gives me a great feeling of contentment at having been able to help this man at the moment of his death.
I am aboard a galactic spaceship far out amongst the stars. We have been travelling for many years and we realise that it is about time that a check was made on good old Earth, to see how its getting along. About eight of us enter a perfectly rectangular smaller ship, the inner walls of which are well padded.
We take our positions lying down along the longest walls. We feel the ship begin to accelerate. This is accompanied by a gentle electronic whine that increases in pitch as we accelerate. After a few minutes all is quiet as we speed towards Earth at many times the speed of light. After a few hours we begin to feel the deceleration, which is accompanied by a whine of lowering pitch. We get up and look out of the observation window. We can see the Sun and the nine planets lying straight ahead.
D235: ? October 1974. An Unexpected Appointment
I am in a medieval setting inside a very plush palatial building. A large crowd is gathering. The selection of a new Pope is soon to be announced. I am walking with a stately lady. She reports that it is widely regarded that there are only two possible choices to be considered. Me or some other bloke? I assure her that it can’t possibly be me as I am certainly not worthy of such a position. We go outside and pass through the assembled throng. We walk into an spacious garden.
From the stirring of the crowd we can see that the announcement has been made. It is me they have chosen! I am truly astounded. It takes my breath away.
Suddenly a knight charges up and lances me in the side. I AM A MAN!
This realisation flashes home in an instant and all of the implications of such a statement are apparent in this one moment. I cry, full of an emotion of……
I am in a medieval setting inside a very plush palatial building. A large crowd is gathering. The selection of a new Pope is soon to be announced. I am walking with a stately lady. She reports that it is widely regarded that there are only two possible choices to be considered. Me or some other bloke? I assure her that it can’t possibly be me as I am certainly not worthy of such a position. We go outside and pass through the assembled throng. We walk into an spacious garden.
From the stirring of the crowd we can see that the announcement has been made. It is me they have chosen! I am truly astounded. It takes my breath away.
Suddenly a knight charges up and lances me in the side. I AM A MAN!
This realisation flashes home in an instant and all of the implications of such a statement are apparent in this one moment. I cry, full of an emotion of……
I am alone in a space capsule, destination the Sun. I pass around its far side and come swinging back around heading for home. It is a dangerously close thing and I nearly overshoot Earth.
I eventually manage to land but nowhere near the scheduled landing site. I’m somewhere in France. The recovery team soon arrive to find that the capsule is damaged. Its contents, the specimens I’ve brought back, are already beginning to decompose on contact with the air. However the team have arrived soon enough to save by far the majority of them.
The specimens are largely biological, plants and animals. The foremost of these are some form of primate and a type of wingless bird, which has two feet on each leg, one above the other.
D245: 4th December 1974. Revolution in the air
Deep diving with a friend we make our way down a slope into very deep water. Lots of small sea fans and crinoids, frequently brightly coloured, grow on the rocks at this depth, but there are no shells.To ascend we are simply pulled up on our lifelines by those on the boat above
On the way up we find a cave. The rest of the dream takes place inside this I think. It has something of a Gormenghast setting. We seem to be the only inhabitants. There is a computer that displays information when the correct password is entered.
A very large biped appears and demands to know the password. If I don’t give him the answer I’m dead. I can’t remember the password and that’s the truth! It is! After I fail with the suggestion ”mammal” a companion gives me a clue “snake” from which I correctly recall that the password is “reptile”. This sets the computer going. The scenes now taking place seem to be those shown on the computer. A group of people appear to be acting out the whole of recorded history.
From time to time an official guard of high office comes around. He is dressed in an official uniform in medieval style. This is the stage in world history reached by the players (of the computer game?). A situation arises in which a new king seems necessary even if the present one has yet to be deposed. This is largely being organised by the French. I indicate that I will support their move. This surprises them but I point out that it has to happen as it’s already been shown and recorded on the computer.
It becomes clear that the present guard has transgressed against his own duties or has been dishonoured in some way. This necessitates a visit by the Chief Guard. As he enters through a door our Giant Ruler can be seen sitting in the corridor behind him. He really is HUGE!
The Chief Guard says that a new guard must be appointed to replace the old one. This will probably be done from within the ranks of the players. I think it’s going to be me.
I arrange to meet the French Queen in a secret spot for a sexual encounter. If I give her pleasure she promises to make the arrangement permanent, if not, hard lines.
Deep diving with a friend we make our way down a slope into very deep water. Lots of small sea fans and crinoids, frequently brightly coloured, grow on the rocks at this depth, but there are no shells.To ascend we are simply pulled up on our lifelines by those on the boat above
On the way up we find a cave. The rest of the dream takes place inside this I think. It has something of a Gormenghast setting. We seem to be the only inhabitants. There is a computer that displays information when the correct password is entered.
A very large biped appears and demands to know the password. If I don’t give him the answer I’m dead. I can’t remember the password and that’s the truth! It is! After I fail with the suggestion ”mammal” a companion gives me a clue “snake” from which I correctly recall that the password is “reptile”. This sets the computer going. The scenes now taking place seem to be those shown on the computer. A group of people appear to be acting out the whole of recorded history.
From time to time an official guard of high office comes around. He is dressed in an official uniform in medieval style. This is the stage in world history reached by the players (of the computer game?). A situation arises in which a new king seems necessary even if the present one has yet to be deposed. This is largely being organised by the French. I indicate that I will support their move. This surprises them but I point out that it has to happen as it’s already been shown and recorded on the computer.
It becomes clear that the present guard has transgressed against his own duties or has been dishonoured in some way. This necessitates a visit by the Chief Guard. As he enters through a door our Giant Ruler can be seen sitting in the corridor behind him. He really is HUGE!
The Chief Guard says that a new guard must be appointed to replace the old one. This will probably be done from within the ranks of the players. I think it’s going to be me.
I arrange to meet the French Queen in a secret spot for a sexual encounter. If I give her pleasure she promises to make the arrangement permanent, if not, hard lines.
I am in bed, ill, but it’s only something minor like a cold. Some weird kind of doctor comes to tend me. I find him slightly repugnant but fascinating nevertheless. He is of distinctly oriental origins. I notice that he is wearing something like Roman sandals on his feet, only they are much more complex. Before he leaves he leans over to me and whispers that I am dead. In a rather bewildered way I tell him that I agree with him. What’s going on? He collects a series of documents relating to me.
I am now in a large kind of hall with sliding walls (Japanese style?) as the means of entry and exit. There are confused scenes. The doctor and some other guy are running towards the partly open wall. The doc has marks on his back, the other guy on the back of his neck. Daggers fly, one hits the doc, his companion is next. The daggers penetrate the marks, blood explodes around the wounds. I am stunned.
I realise that I am lying on the floor as if wounded. Two women (of the alien teachers race) are kneeling on either side of me, looking after me. They lift my head up. As they do so I see the mark, the same as the docs, in the centre of my chest. A moments thought and I panic, rise swiftly and run towards the open wall. I think that the fate that befell the doc and the other guy is also in store for me. The women don’t seem to be of the same opinion.
I reach the wall. It is slid back just enough for a man to squeeze through if turned sideways. I peer out. What is going on? Now I’m really confused. The scene before me is like some surrealist dream come to life. A huge chicken type bird struts about. Two statues of stumpy dwarfs walk past; they are identical. Other weird and wonderful characters walk about as if they are in a dream.
I can’t go out there. I sit down on the floor bemused. Mighty horror! Some screaming oriental swordsman comes charging up wielding a large sword, He makes several rapid slashes along the whole length of my body, as if he is dicing me for some salad. I find myself unharmed, relieved and amazed.
A young girl is in our group. She lies naked and shivering under a low table. She is obviously the unbalanced one we thought existed in our group. How did she get like this? Several rather unpleasant sexual encounters are portrayed. Were these the cause?
I am standing at a door with a friend. Through the glass I can see a rather misty scene in which Dalek like beings are fighting men dressed in brightly coloured uniforms. I hold various types of hook in my hand. Stretching through the glass I try and dig the hooks in to passing Daleks. Suddenly one of the men falls through the door. He is eager to close the gap he has left; to stop pieces of the battle from falling thorough. I now realise that the scene through the door is of the far future and that the man has come from the future too. “Surely that’s not really what is going to happen in the future” I ask. “Yes“ he replies “but I can show you ways or preventing it”.
I wake up in a sweat. I don’t want to get up. I can feel Dalek presences nearby.
D272: 22nd June 1975. Spin and sleep paralysis
The wheel spins, but I am too scared to let it spin me at ever increasing speed……. into eternity.
I am running towards myself but I am scared to make the crunch. The fear that accompanied episodes of sleep paralysis I experienced in childhood overcomes me. Exactly the same fear I felt in childhood, of loss, of not being able to return.
The wheel spins, but I am too scared to let it spin me at ever increasing speed……. into eternity.
I am running towards myself but I am scared to make the crunch. The fear that accompanied episodes of sleep paralysis I experienced in childhood overcomes me. Exactly the same fear I felt in childhood, of loss, of not being able to return.
D298: 7th October 1975. Letting go….or not
I am with a friend in a subterranean kingdom. I have successfully managed to rob the King of his most precious jewel. We jump into a river to escape. There are other people being swept along by the river. They tell us to beware of the rapids ahead. Too late. We are in the rapids and that’s not all… The river narrows and enters a tunnel. Soon it spews out (from a cliff face?) into open space. Earth can be seen tens of thousands of feet below. I enter that wonderful spacey feeling, then fear. I manage to grab a rock and “save” myself. As I watch the others disappear as specks below.
With my back to the cave roof I cling on using my hands and feet like some kind of giant bat. I realise I have only to let go to be free. No effort is required. The effort is expended in holding on. Let go and…..vacuity.
I am with a friend in a subterranean kingdom. I have successfully managed to rob the King of his most precious jewel. We jump into a river to escape. There are other people being swept along by the river. They tell us to beware of the rapids ahead. Too late. We are in the rapids and that’s not all… The river narrows and enters a tunnel. Soon it spews out (from a cliff face?) into open space. Earth can be seen tens of thousands of feet below. I enter that wonderful spacey feeling, then fear. I manage to grab a rock and “save” myself. As I watch the others disappear as specks below.
With my back to the cave roof I cling on using my hands and feet like some kind of giant bat. I realise I have only to let go to be free. No effort is required. The effort is expended in holding on. Let go and…..vacuity.
D301: 28th October 1975. Piloting Concorde
I am an airline pilot. I am about to make my first flight in Concorde. I go aboard and find some technicians sitting in the pilots seat. I get them to move. I start down the runway, back with stick…. and nothing happens. We don’t take off but merely fly forward through all of the objects in our path; without any damage being done.
But something is not right. I’ve been in some sort of trance. The technicians are actually co-pilots. It's only now that I recognise them as such. They assure me that we have taken off and are now at a great altitude.
The fact that I think we are “flying“ through objects at ground level is a psychological defence mechanism on my part. I won’t let go of the ground. I’m afraid of the new experience of seeing the world from such a great altitude. As I realise the truth of this the ground recedes and I begin to appreciate our true position and height.
I am an airline pilot. I am about to make my first flight in Concorde. I go aboard and find some technicians sitting in the pilots seat. I get them to move. I start down the runway, back with stick…. and nothing happens. We don’t take off but merely fly forward through all of the objects in our path; without any damage being done.
But something is not right. I’ve been in some sort of trance. The technicians are actually co-pilots. It's only now that I recognise them as such. They assure me that we have taken off and are now at a great altitude.
The fact that I think we are “flying“ through objects at ground level is a psychological defence mechanism on my part. I won’t let go of the ground. I’m afraid of the new experience of seeing the world from such a great altitude. As I realise the truth of this the ground recedes and I begin to appreciate our true position and height.
A very clear dream: I am at a strange machine. It has a large screen on which can be see three small circles arranged on the vertical central axis. The middle white circle is located at the centre of the screen with a black circle located above it on the central axis, and another black circle below. There is a fourth circle of moving light that travels back and forth in an arc. Its position is always projected on the screen, presumably from an object moving behind the screen.
I am able to control the movement of the circle of light by means of a joystick. The circle of light now appears to be able to wander laterally and vertically over the screen. The aim is to keep the circle of light over the vacant circle at the centre of the screen.
At first I am not very good at this, the light wanders quite a lot, but eventually I am able to keep it stable over the vacant circle. A very satisfying feeling.
Commentary: Some resolution has been achieved. Openfoot has wandered widely across the field of awareness and is now able to maintain a good measure of balance, of dynamic equilibrium. He can centre himself, his focus of attention and being. But an underlying duality seems to remain. Two "locations" of experience appear to be granted a great reality than the rest - an upper and lower world, an inner and outer world, a rational and an intuitive mind. Although Openfoot does not identify himself closely with these they remain as fundamental divisions and stand out as distinct from the rest of the field of awareness. There is also the suggestion of things still hidden, things moving behind the scenes. Suggestions of mysteries not yet penetrated or uncovered.
The dream is often occupied with apparently very silly details, thus producing an impression of absurdity, or else it is on the surface so unintelligible as to leave us thoroughly bewildered. Hence we always have to overcome a certain resistance before we can seriously set about disentangling the intricate web through patient work. C.G.Jung
