Rhondda – Y Ddraig Aur (Golden Dragon) Dream – 06-10-21

Last night we attended our second Breton class and as we arrived there were two crows circling above the venue. We are in Bro Dreger {Tregor} and part of what stimulated the move was the prevalence of this flag at a festival one night in Landreger in 2019.

This is the second dream from last night and because of the symbolism, it is probably significant.

I hear on the news that there has been a strange happening in Wales in which a row of terraced houses has been painted black. I “go” to see it. It is in the upper reaches of Trealaw Road. I arrive / land on the opposite side of the street and note that the black terrace is very close to where my maternal great grandfather John Parry Jones lived with his family when they moved down from North Wales. It is near where there is a path to a footbridge over the Rhondda River to Tonypandy. I decide to walk over the bridge and travel by train back to Gravesend.

As I cross the river, I am about to enter a shopping centre precinct, I notice a young woman coming towards me holding a cylindrical object which is white and painted upon which is y ddraig aur. I look down at the t-shirt I am wearing and it is my t-shirt with the y drraig aur flag printed upon it. I suggest to her that because of this we must talk. She speaks English with a fairly strong Russian accent. She agrees.

Next, we are in her room. I take a closer look at the cylindrical object and see that it is the covering for a bronze statue underneath. I see that the dragon is slightly lopsided and say that it must be dissolved and repainted. We dissolve the dragon using a liquid and it flakes off flakes of genuine gold leaf which is very bright and almost alive. It is way more golden than the original image of y ddraig aur I saw near the river. It has come alive.

With great care she at first paints a black outline on the cylindrical cover and then begins to start the dragon. The gold on the black paint is vivid.

I say to her that it is a bit of an omen and that perhaps we are to work together. I ask her to tell me about herself, her journey.

In her Russian accent she takes me over to her bookcase and says that first she studied shamanism and pulls out a book by Kenneth Meadows. I am dumbstruck. I say that he was the first person to teach me shamanism and that this is now omen enough for me.

She then asks me about my practices. I explain that I have done an extensive recapitulation, I organised the retreats with Theun and the fact that I don’t need to recapitulate any more.

Dream ends.

Y Ddraig Aur (The Gold Dragon), c. 1400 – c. 1416, the royal standard of Owain Glyndŵr, Prince of Wales, famously raised over Caernarfon during the Battle of Tuthill in 1401 against the English. It is evident in Glyndŵr’s privy seals that his gold dragon had two legs.

{From Wikipedia}

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Dragons are the dreaming symbol for power or magic {at work}

Gold is the symbol for the Nagal {in a universal sense} or Spirit

The combination of these is potent.

River is unconditional love

Black is Totality / the need for wholeness and sometimes at-one-ment.

The Soul urge of Russia is seventh ray.

Ken was a Shaman

Theun was a three pronged nagal being

Crows are couriers of power

Two can be need for humility and understanding or an indication of destiny.

An Omen or A Dreaming Symbol?

This morning we awoke to find this being on our backdoor inside our closed conservatory.

A Bing image search suggests that it is a paon-de-nuit or a peacock of the night. The adults appear April to June, this one is pretty early.

As a dreaming symbol moths are symbols of power in the universal sense, a bit like THE Dao. It has perched on our door which is the dreaming symbol of possibility. It is still there now.

Here are some Toltec Aphorisms extracted from a book by Theun Mares, Toltec Teachings Vol. 6.

This is a “herald of eternity”.

We need to treat it with respect in case it is an Ally or decides to turn into an Ally.

The last time I had a head-on encounter with the ally my life changed irrevocably.

We shall see what transpires…

a Nagual’s World

On the off chance that people are “observing” this blog from a strategic “what do we do with Alan ” point of view, then it would be my bad if I did not give then some clues or at least a few red herrings.  Enjoy…

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In my case, don Juan wanted an omen before he taught me the ritual. That omen came when don Juan and I were driving through a border town in Arizona and a policeman stopped me. The policeman thought I was an illegal alien. Only after I had shown him my passport, which he suspected of being a forgery, and other documents, did he let me go. Don Juan had been in the front seat next to me all the time, and the policeman had not given him a second glance. He had focused solely on me. Don Juan thought the incident was the omen he was waiting for. His interpretation of it was that it would be very dangerous for me to call attention to myself, and he concluded that my world had to be one of utter simplicity and candor – elaborate ritual and pomp were out of character for me. He conceded, however, that a minimal observance of ritualistic patterns was in order when I made my acquaintance with his warriors. I had to begin by approaching them from the south, because that is the direction that power follows in its ceaseless flux. Life force flows to us from the south, and leaves us flowing toward the north. He said that the only opening to a Nagual’s world was through the south, and that the gate was made by two female warriors, who would have to greet me and would let me go through if they so decided.

He took me to a town in central Mexico, to a house in the countryside. As we approached it on foot from a southerly direction, I saw two massive Indian women standing four feet apart, facing each other. They were about thirty or forty feet away from the main door of the house, in an area where the dirt was hard-packed. The two women were extraordinarily muscular and stern. Both had long, jet-black hair held together in a single thick braid. They looked like sisters. They were about the same height and weight – I figured that they must have been around five feet four, and weighed 150 pounds. One of them was extremely dark, almost black, the other much lighter. They were dressed like typical Indian women from central Mexico – long, full dresses and shawls, homemade sandals.

Don Juan made me stop three feet from them. He turned to the woman on our left and made me face her. He said that her name was Cecilia and that she was a dreamer. He then turned abruptly, without giving me time to say anything, and made me face the darker woman, to our right. He said that her name was Delia and that she was a stalker. The women nodded at me. They did not smile or move to shake hands with me, or make any gesture of welcome. Don Juan walked between them as if they were two columns marking a gate. He took a couple of steps and turned as if waiting for the women to invite me to go through. The women stared at me calmly for a moment. Then Cecilia asked me to come in, as if I were at the threshold of an actual door.

Don Juan led the way to the house. At the front door we found a man. He was very slender. At first sight he looked extremely young, but on closer examination he appeared to be in his late fifties. He gave me the impression of being an old child: small, wiry, with penetrating dark eyes. He was like an elfish apparition, a shadow. Don Juan introduced him to me as Emilito, and said that he was his courier and all-around helper, who would welcome me on his behalf. It seemed to me that Emilito was indeed the most appropriate being to welcome anyone. His smile was radiant; his small teeth were perfectly even. He shook hands with me, or rather he crossed his forearms and clasped both my hands. He seemed to be exuding enjoyment; anyone would have sworn that he was ecstatic in meeting me. His voice was very soft and his eyes sparkled.

We walked into a large room. There was another woman there. Don Juan said that her name was Teresa and that she was Cecilia’s and Delia’s courier. She was perhaps in her early thirties, and she definitely looked like Cecilia’s daughter. She was very quiet but very friendly. We followed don Juan to the back of the house, where there was a roofed porch. It was a warm day. We sat there around a table, and after a frugal dinner we talked until after midnight. Emilito was the host. He charmed and delighted everyone with his exotic stories. The women opened up. They were a great audience for him. To hear the women’s laughter was an exquisite pleasure. They were tremendously muscular, bold, and physical. At one point, when Emilito said that Cecilia and Delia were like two mothers to him, and Teresa like a daughter, they picked him up and tossed him in the air like a child.

Of the two women, Delia seemed the more rational, down- to-earth. Cecilia was perhaps more aloof, but appeared to have greater inner strength. She gave me the impression of being more intolerant, or more impatient; she seemed to get annoyed with some of Emilito’s stories. Nonetheless, she was definitely on the edge of her chair when he would tell what he called his “tales of eternity.” He would preface every story with the phrase, ‘Do you, dear friends, know that. . . ?’

The story that impressed me most was about some creatures that he said existed in the universe, who were the closest thing to human beings without being human; creatures who were obsessed with movement and capable of detecting the slightest fluctuation inside themselves or around them. These creatures were so sensitive to motion that it was a curse to them. It gave them such pain that their ultimate ambition was to find quietude. Emilito would intersperse his tales of eternity with the most outrageous dirty jokes. Because of his incredible gifts as a raconteur, I understood every one of his stories as a metaphor, a parable, with which he was teaching us something.

Don Juan said that Emilito was merely reporting about things he had witnessed in his journeys through eternity. The role of a courier was to travel ahead of the Nagual, like a scout in a military operation. Emilito went to the limits of the second attention, and whatever he witnessed he passed on to the others.