Currently not sleeping very well. I suspect my body is starting to produce more acetylcholine after smoking cessation and it hasn’t got the balance right yet.
I am walking through a leafy park across an open gravelled space. I know this place to be Kensington. I pass TJ whom I haven’t seen for over 15 years. He does a double take and recognises me. He gives me a small business card and a map. The business card is an invitation to an event at his university and is written partially in Arabic. The map shows how to find the venue on campus. I look at the date and it is for March next year. I return the invitation and map to him saying that I cannot attend. He is insistent and persuasive and tries to get me to take the invitation. I say that I cannot because I will be at home in Italy and it costs over a £100 per trip to come to the UK by car both in money for petrol and in coffee. He says that I really should try. Again, I politely decline. I congratulate him on his inauguration and say that I enjoyed his last paper. Which in the dream I have read and which demonstrates quantum entanglement of electronic spin wavefunctions in surface states. The entanglement is temporal and corresponds to the imaginary part of the wave function. He moves off.
I then enter a large semi-permanent marquee on a lawn. In the entrance area there are a lot of young women, smartly dressed, as if for an evening event. Somehow, they know me and ask me questions. I say that to me they do not look very happy. This they vehemently deny and wish to argue with me. I ask them; “how many of you are happy more than 50% of the time?” Many of them put their hands up. I walk over to them and say bullshit, bullshit, bullshit to several of them in turn. I turn to one of the young women and ask if she thinks her friends and colleagues are telling the truth about being happy. She says that she thinks they are lying. At which point several of them now concur and admit that they are not generally happy. One of the most vehement deniers now sidles up to me in a friendly way and wants to dance with me. We move into the main part of the marquee and onto a dance floor.
Off the dance floor there is a glass construction which has waist high walls, is shaped like a corridor and has automatic opening and closing doors. The entire structure is lined with a pastel peach piece of cloth. The “corridor” is about one foot under water.
Two other smartly dressed young women come over to me, one is tall the other normal height. They have a quaisi religious role in whatever ceremony is taking place. I am joined by my wife. They say that they would very much like for us to walk down the corridor for them. I approach the entrance door and it opens. I am wet by a wave of water. I step through and the door closes. I then walk along the cloth and exit by the far door. My wife follows suite. I then ask the women what is so special about the cloth. The shorter one says that it is only brought out of storage every 900 years and hence this event is extremely rare. The cloth is substantially older than 900 years old. I ask her do they have records of the last time it was brought out of storage. No, they do not, but it is what the legend of their order says.
She offers to show me around. We are led out of the marquee and into a large private house. We come across a very simple but exquisite altar and in the far corner of the room a man is playing a white grand piano. He has crazy out of control wispy hair. I know this room; I have been here before. I know the man. I say to the woman that I came here before to ask the man about my mind, but he was unable to help. This house is his.
She says that he in not rich and is very humble. I point out that given the size of the house and its location Kensington, it must be worth over £5 million pounds. I ask by what scale is that not rich?