Leuven – Events and Dreams End of June 2013

I am reasonably accustomed to what might be called Freaky Friday Stuff but what unfolded here took the biscuit.

I had applied for a reasonably senior position in a large, ultra-high technology semiconductor outfit in Belgium. They wanted to interview me, and I was set for an interview with some of the internal big cheeses. I did not know until I got there that there was already someone in that position and the interview therefore was quasi-covert.

Because we wanted to look at the available housing, we hired a car at the central train station. Getting out of Brussel did not prove easy. When we arrived in Leuven it took us an inordinately large amount of time to find the hotel in the one-way system. It was a stylishly renovated catholic convent.  Leuven is a very nice place. The standard of living would be high I even spoke French to compliment the chef in a restaurant there.

First Dream Excerpt.

We are staying at a lakeside residence it is up on stilts. At night-time and out of the window I can see dolphins in the moonlight. I call for the wife to come and observe which she does.

The dolphins are in fact made of fluorescent plastic and are remote controlled. They are being driven by our next-door neighbour for his daughter.

Then there is a bit about the front of the house, my view of the world, falling suddenly off.

The next day I go in for the interview and am interviewed by the big cheeses in turn. The HR lady was excellent, and we got on very well. Then one of the blokes, started name dropping. I thought to myself WTF is this an interview or a mutual bullshit session? He started to make comments about people I knew and suggested that he knew them perhaps better than he did because his anecdotes were inconsistent with my knowledge of them. He showed me the clean room with its brand new EUV lithography kit. I had read about 25% of the entire patent portfolio of the company as preparation for the interview. We did not click, to understate. I was expecting some pretty techie question but did not get any. This name dropper gave me his business card…in an interview…bizarre city Arizona.

I was in a temporary porta-cabin waiting for the interviewers to turn up.  The last interviewer came twenty minutes late. If I had not been on a secure site, I would have left long before they showed up. They gave a low-down on the matrix management arrangements of the organisation which they said was “simple”. I had already looked this up. I said that it was not simple it was highly convoluted. This big cheese gave me a card as well. The only person who asked me any questions really was the HR lady. It was the weirdest interview experience of my life.

Next Dream Excerpt the night after the interview.

There is a gathering, and we are all sat round in a circle in front of a stage. We are waiting for a female shaman / seer. She appears from behind the curtains. I can see her eyes and for some reason she homes in on me and starts to look into my eyes. She then continues around the circle in ceremonial way. I say partially under my breath “mutant” The other people all sort of “gasp”, I have dared.

She comes back over to me and stares into my eyes. We lock in some kind of contest or wills and she turns into a naked childlike figure with Egyptian features. “Imhotep” I say out loud pointing. “You are a mutant of Imhotep. I have known you before. Why do you seek again? She is covered in a pelt of very fine black hair.

Everyone stares at me.

Next dream excerpt – totally out of the blue!

Whilst everyone is staring at me a book, leather bound, appears. It is to do with my mystery. I know now that I have had Egyptian lives {plural}. The book starts to open, and it says “Marchmont”. This is a part of my mystery too. “All very English and upper class”, I comment. Everybody smiles.

Imhotep (/ɪmˈhoʊtɛp/; Ancient Egyptian: ỉỉ-m-ḥtp “the one who comes in peace”; fl. late 27th century BCE) was an Egyptian chancellor to the Pharaoh Djoser, probable architect of Djoser’s step pyramid, and high priest of the sun god Ra at Heliopolis. Very little is known of Imhotep as a historical figure, but in the 3,000 years following his death, he was gradually glorified and deified.

The next dream sequence is at a doctor’s practice, and they are warning me to tell my close relatives of my condition in a very similar manner as happened in physical plane reality on Friday morning.

Anyway, it was time to go home, and we were mildly apprehensive about finding our way back into Brussels to drop off the hire car. On the journey in, a little on impulse, we took a road, it went down some back route and dumped us literally in front of the station!

Power, the universe, was aiding us to get out of Belgium.

We dropped off the hire care with some time to kill before the Eurostar. We exited the station into a square and turned the corner. And there they were, loads of large plastic dolphins on sticks held up in the air by environmental activist. WTF!!

We went up to big square and the HR lady rang to say that I was not going to be offered the job. The face of the house fell off in an instant. It was a pretty quick turnaround.  I had a suspicion that they may have rung someone and had been warned off me, off the record. But there was no way of proving this.

So, I went for a semiconductor job and had a dream pointing at Egyptian incarnations over four and half thousand years ago…

When we came to look for house here, the woman who housed us was Belgian and had connections with Leuven.

Maybe I need to contact Hercule Poirot to help solve the mystery…

Types of Initiation

At the moment I am reading “Le Chamanisme” by Mercea Eliade. It is slow progress because my French is not as good as my English. In this he writes about the selection and initiation of shamans across a wide range of cultures. He notes that the proto shaman often has a bad illness which causes him/her to take up the profession. The proto shaman is initiated into the ranks by a variety of grisly methods either by another shaman, the spirits or the Gods. These rituals include dismemberment, removal of bodily organs and the inserting of various crystals. The shaman dies and is reborn with new organs and limbs. So far, he hasn’t commented on whether this is actual or metaphorical. The insertion of crystals is actual amongst Australian aborigines. The proto shaman is taught the trade.

There is a rite of passage in which he enters the craft of shamanism.

The aboriginal shaman is called a man of high degree.

I have read that freemasonry has its various degrees and rites, of which I know very little.

I have participated in a number of rituals at The Royal Albert Hall, dressed in an academic costume at which a swathe of undergraduates is admitted into the degree of bachelor or master. I have signed the document granting a ~hundred people either a B.Sc. or M.Chem. I have partaken of viva voce oral examinations in which together with another we recommend the awarding of a Ph.D. There is no actual disembowelment, but the brain is given something of a workout. A Ph.D. means that you are qualified to do research on your own, it does not say if you will be any good at it. There is a whole lot more to learn after this degree.

There is ceremonial magic in the academic rite of passage. The academics are led on stage by someone carrying a rod of office. It is all a bit seventh ray.

Once qualified people can become a member or a fellow of a learned society. I myself was once a member of The Royal Society of Chemistry and The Institute of Physics.

Yesterday evening I put up the various degree in the Toltec Tradition as per Theun Mares. The blue books talk about nine planetary initiations two of them being threshold and the third being the first initiation proper, the Transfiguration.  In the scheme the initiation is given after the necessary work has been undertaken and the rod of initiation starts, initiates, the next phase of the journey. There is ritual magic involved. Speculating a little the Transfiguration is the culmination of the Warrior’s path and specifically the Path of Freedom. One becomes free of the clutches of the darkened paths. The third initiation precipitates the fourth.

In the blue book schema at the fourth initiation the causal vehicle is ruptured, and the being no longer is required to incarnate, the causal vehicle is blown off, nirvana. But there are still five possible initiations to be undertaken in this planetary scheme. At the fifth initiation the being becomes a master of wisdom and if I understand it correctly writes a kind of thesis so as to “crystalize” the knowledge and wisdom acquired. The initiations are not on the physical plane as per your common or garden degree ceremony.

Initiation and rites of passage are pretty common, from your tribal shaman to your freemason, to your modern university and the inner plans subjective initiations.

Snake Totem

This morning whilst out playing with the camera I came across this, a recently shed snakeskin.

This is the fourth encounter of a snake in the garden, and it comes, probably, from a snake not long out of hibernation. We also have three slow worms and a salamander. The skin is less than twenty metres from where I am now sat, out on the lawn just uphill of all the blossom.

Snakes and dragons get a bad press from the church.

Having been a child in outback Australia and in Zambia, close encounters of a snake like kind are not new. I very nearly ran over a black mamba with my bicycle. It was crossing the path in front of me, and I missed its tail by inches. In Australia aged 5-9 I used to bring snakeskins which I found in the dry creek or bush home to my mother. This freaked her a little.

Here is something on the snake totem from Animal Speak by Ted Andrews.

Granny Was a Gwrach {Witch}

As I mentioned earlier, I am reading a book about The Dreamtime. What strikes me most about the book is the absence of much reference to women. The Clever Men, the Men of High Degree are responsible for the sacred traditions, the healing and the dancing. In the West, the holders of the old traditions are more often portrayed as women, sometimes witches. Though there are male druids. Until recently the priesthood was exclusively male.

Here in Brittany one can see witch signs carved into fireplaces to stop nasty witches coming down the chimney. Witches got a bad press from the power obsessed clergy. Midwives are called sage-femme here, which is nice. I suspect that many of the so-called witches were mid-wives and portrayers of herbal medicine. So, there must be good, or white witches as well as those paid to put hexes on.

When I saw the Doors film and the scene where Jim sees the Shaman it struck some kind of chord in me. I can remeber the moment in a cinema in Bern. It started a line of inquiry.

When I first looked into Shamanism, I read Shamanism by Mircea Eliade. It is a long and seemingly well researched tome. It seems that most cultures have some kind of tradition. It is probably due another read, I might get the French version.

Family legend has it that at least one woman in the part of my family which emanates from Beddgelert was a witch. But does that mean healer or part magical? I have read various things which suggests that “the gift” is passed on down bloodline generations. It might skip one and then resurface.

With this loose hypothesis such a gift might manifest in someone trained in the Natural Sciences to Ph.D. degree level.

Certainly around 1995 when I had by breakdown and was forced to change my orientation to the world, I needed to change. Up until that point I soap boxed that the world and everything in it could be explained by Science, with a capitol S. I was a bit of a dickhead.

Things in deepest darkest North Wales were kept out of sight of the oppressive English and the old traditions perhaps lingered long there.

Since I have been here, I have noticed the number of cars in which there are dreamcatchers attached to the mirror. The number density is a lot higher than Surrey for sure. There are some true Bretons here who are markedly not French. They are proper country folk and would not look out of place in Snowdonia.

If one has “the gift” one should be sensitive to power spots or hot spots. For example, Avebury and Stonehenge. Avebury is more powerful than Stonehenge because less people have gone there. Glaslyn on the sides of Snowdon is one power spot. We have one here locally it is called Menez Bre.

Until a few days ago We had not been up there. But when we did it was pretty obvious it is a power spot.

You may not believe this, but many cathedrals are built on power spots. Winchester is the hottest one amongst those that I have visited.

Can I provide six sigma evidence for this? No.

People with this gift can recognise others with it too…

There is a menhir locally and there are massive stone temples to the West of here.

Why is it that the old ways are always driven to the West?

I have a feeling that I have some kind of upcoming appointment on Menez Bre.


Lay down

Your sweet and weary head

Night is falling

You have come to journey’s end

Sleep now

And dream of the ones who came before

They are calling

From across the distant shore

Why do you weep?

What are these tears upon your face?

Soon you will see

All of your fears will pass away

Safe in my arms

You’re only sleeping

What can you see

On the horizon?

Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea

A pale moon rises

The ships have come to carry you home

And all will turn

To silver glass

A light on the water

All souls pass

Hope fades

Into the world of night

Through shadows falling

Out of memory and time

Don’t say we have come now to the end

White shores are calling

You and I will meet again

And you’ll be here in my arms

Just sleeping

Karmapa / Dalai Lama Dream 7-9-2012

I am in my nan’s house when two large limousines pull up and out of them come loads of Tibetans together with security who set up a perimeter around the house.

One of them is the “Dalai Lama”, another is a doctor / healer and a third is a guide for protocol. The DL has a hooded cowl over his head. They all enter into the house and we go upstairs to my Grandfather’s room which is in the centre of the three story house. (I used to gaze out of here across the valley to Clydach when I was young)

They all sit down on the floor. The doctor wants to take a good look at me naked. So I strip and he goes over me examining me very thoroughly. He seems to be satisfied. The DL is sat down on the floor. I am sat on a chair. The protocol man says that no-one should have his head above the DL. So I sit down on the floor next to him. He removes the cowl from his head and  looks me direct in the eye. He is a Tibetan man with very dark hair and roughly my own age only a bit younger. I refer to him as Lhamo only he isn’t the man who goes around as the DL, he is too young for that.

He says to me; “Can you empty your mind?”

I shift quietly and quickly into a deep meditation.

“Of course you can !” He says smiling.

He says that he has been interested to read what I have sent them

“First let’s do a little healing for someone..”

He hands me a small object and asks me to concentrate. Out of the object I materialise a scorpion.

“Detach the scorpion and you will heal the person..”

I detach the scorpion with a little difficulty and throw it into the fire.

Looking out of the window we can see that some people have turned up. The DL is used to this and he motions to security to remove them gently.

Back in the room the DL says jokingly;

“It is always fun to do a bit of shamanism, isn’t it?”

I sense that this has been a test.

He then shows me his back. It has black marks upon it. “What are these he asks?”

I say that they are bones

“Yes I can express my bones through my skin. It is a part of the martial arts we do in Tibet which can be very deadly..”

As he speaks pins come out of the “bones” on his back.

He brings in three security guards who are dressed in brightly coloured robes. They are all trained in this. They are a mixed bunch, tall and with poor teeth. They all have a glint in the eyes.

“They are very fast and would probably win any Mixed Martial Arts contest. We have thought about entering them just for fun, but thought better of it. You are trained in martial arts too, aren’t you? Perhaps you too are deadly?”


We  are then in mind to mind contact for a very long time. After this he rummages around in a cupboard and sees artist’s materials there. I hand these to him and he starts to make an elaborate construction.

My aunt is downstairs. I explain to her what is going on.

Back upstairs the DL is busy building his construction. He asks me to put the fire up one level. He is a little cold. (Implied it is cooler here than in India)

The security guards come in and say that people and the press have started to gather outside the house. I have no idea how long we have been talking, perhaps days.

They decide that they will go out the front door and not the back one. Security goes out and brings around the limousines. The DL who is really the Karmapa, or a mix of the two, says that things will now really start to change. I go with them to the door and the press are there all flashlights and cameras. There are metal barriers and police to contain the crowd.The Karmapa gets into a car and they drive off.

The press interview me wanting to know what has been going on.

“He came here for a chat and for one of the doctors to look at me. It was all very nice,” I say.

Now I am somehow back in a city. The ex-wife is for some reason around. She has heard about what has happened. She asks if I can bring her some chilli on my way back from town. I am on a tube train and footage of the visit is being played on a TV screen in the carriage. A small Ethiopian looking man is there. He says;

“That is you in the footage, isn’t it?”


The whole carriage turns to look at me and the footage.

I am now living on a small country estate. There are two male lions prowling around the front gate for security.

I go outside for a wander. I see a small crowd and they start to throw silver CDs at me like discuses, the intention is one of harm. I turn my back on them and by using “the force”  block the CDs causing them to drop to the floor. I then fly over them and up into a truly massive tree. I then fly back into the house.

In an annexe, a type of out building for the main house, the “Toltec” group is gathered. I am now moving rapidly through the house pushing open doors as I do. I am going to give them a piece of my mind.

I go into the room and they are all sat upon chairs around the outside of the room, in a “circle”. There are many familiar faces there. I speak to them about my life path and what it means for them. {implicit is that it is very important for them} The ex-wife is in the audience and all she wants to know is whether or not I got her chilli.  This typifies the mood and even when they are shown footage of the DL’s / Karmapa’s visit and him leaving my house, they are unmoved and disinterested.

Later I am outside by a rubbish heap. I meet again the Ethiopian man only now his head is much larger.  I understand him to be a knowledgeable being. He tells me not to be worried and that he too cannot believe what he has just witnessed in terms of their arrogance and utter stupidity.

I now realise that the being I was interacting with before was definitely the Karmapa, who is known for his magical capacities.  We are now linked.

He says,” Things of true importance are always revealed in dreams and visions…”

Dream ends.

The Shaman’s Breakdown

I’ll preface by saying, if family legend is correct, I am a direct descendant of a gwrach or witch. And one from deepest darkest Snowdonia to boot. Sometimes “the gift” skips generations and resurfaces in the most unlikely of beings, maybe even a chemical physics dude and laser jock. 😉

Around 1995 I had a major depressive episode with inherent suicidal ideation. Initially I was on the green and whites. Later when these did not work the consultant psychiatrist put me on monoamine oxidase inhibitors and tricyclics.

There was major risk because of potential dietary interaction. The doctor felt able to take that risk because I was a practising vegan at the time. I even flew to Japan whilst on the latter combination and only had a mild hypertensive episode once at a business dinner in a fancy restaurant. This kind of treatment is usually for inpatients.

It was pretty clear to me that something had to change and change fast.  So, I began to look at alternate ways of living and ways of viewing the world. It is common knowledge amongst the shamanic community that many shamans have to have a kick up the butt in order to start practising. This is either a breakdown, a vision or a major life-threatening illness.

My first encounter with the word shaman was in the books of Carlos Castaneda. However, I had met two wise men before. These were our gardener and our houseboy when we lived in Zambia.  The houseboy was 53 and the gardener, Tembo (elephant) was in his seventies. They let me (10-13) sit with them sometimes, even when others came to ask their advice. They had a divination game involving throwing some stones over a grid of shallow holes dug in the ground. I was OK, my sister not.

During my illness a copy of the I Ching fell off a bookshelf in a bookshop in Tring and landed right at my feet. Ok, I am meant to look at I Ching. I found a course on Native American Indian Shamanism and began. As a part of this we did Runic Shamanism and Remote Viewing. I carved an entire set of runes from slate and wore each one, in turn, as a necklace. I got better.

One could argue it was the meds or it could be that I was at last looking into something I was “meant” to.

Here in Brittany, you can find shamans, clairvoyants and tarot readers in the yellow pages. They even had a thing in the local newspaper when someone opened up a cartomancy or Tarot business in the local town! It is a bit odd, to my eyes, for a catholic country. In the local town there is one shop which sells catholic icons and crosses as well as books on shamanism, Angels, and divining pendants. As usual there are contradictions.

So why am I being pointed again at Shamanism?

I’ll ask the I Ching.

There could be a business opportunity…

Shaman Dream 14-01-21

Here is the morning’s dream

The wife (Easterly Dreamer) and I are staying at the home of S (Easterly Stalker) we have a separate bedroom which is well decorated, modern and light. The change in decor is marked from what I remember about S’s previous accommodation. We go downstairs into a bright and airy hallway and then out into the streets of London. On our return we meet S in her front room. Again, it is light and airy with lots of pictures and artefacts on the wall.

S greets us. She asks me; “how long is it since you played your shaman’s drum.? How long is it since you did shamanic healing? You should start again. This is what the world needs most now, healing!”

The dream ends and I note its overall easterly feeling.

A part of my predilection is for East and dawn, though technically I am also of the South, the place of dreaming.

Over 20 years ago I attended a course in shamanism with S. I “passed” this course.

The Hooded Man

hunting echoes

in a canyon

with a ceremonial



wearing an overcoat

of shadows

belonging to

someone else


seeking a river’s tears

under a willow tree

being coy with carp

and an egret


wobbling with

the newborn deer

in ignorance grass

on poppy meadows


where remembering

brings no opium

not for ghosts

or djinns


counting cherry stones

piled in perfect balance

a heap of Sakurai

in the making


a sandwich of Satori

rice paper fine

and as delicate

as dew


the dawn chases away

echoes and shadows

and walks daisies,

petal footsteps in the stream


tickling toes between

washing scales

as the sunlight



the mists yawn

the trees sway

dancing mirror ponds

shimmer sequins


the stars stretch

their cosmic arms

teasing the hair

of night’s sky


and now even echoes

chime no more

Pie Jesu in the snow

as a lamb sings


frolicking with buttercups

and dents-de-lions

shorn of shadow coats

and now naked


no more soul

to clothe him

not now

not ever


the land of shadows

fades misty fast

without meals

or succour


and diamond eyed,

glinting galaxies,

he pulls up his cowl

the hooded man


… … hunts no more

Caer Paravel

Dreaming of Aslan and the Deep Magic…


Deep in his musty cavern

he lay out the cloth

drawn quadrants

and he rattled

his bag,

his bag of bones


The time is coming.

Now on the table

the bones they spoke,

they spoke to him.

Soon now must he go

to Caer Paravel


To speak with ancient stones

circled at the place,

the place of power

for this Deep Magic

will need a special,

a special place, a special time


In his Grimoire he reads

to undo oaths

made before time with

the words of liberation

the “libera lachryma antica”,

a most potent charm


“By all the power invested

I set you free.

I hold your oaths

entirely fulfilled!!

Go now in freedom

and think me no more”


“Go now free from

the curse of me

vested upon you

aeons ago.

I hold your oaths

entire fulfilled”


“Never again shall I call

in the vaulted Temple.

Go now in freedom

and think me no more!

By all the power invested

I set you free!!”


It has been years

since he has seen

fair Caer Peravel,

years since he walked

walked the stones round,

millennia since he built them


The Deep Magic

permeates there

and it will be good

to taste again.

A few days hence

and it will be so.