{A Dream: of Maps and Travel}[19th January 1984]

[Redbook2:327][19840119:1030]{A Dream: of Maps and Travel}[19^th January 1984]

19840119.1030

Part of a rather mixed dream last night involved a lot of geography – travel, ending up in France instead of (officially on the way to) Japan, and a curious inability to trace people who walked away in a city because they had gone off the edge of the map; plus problems at the railway station coming home.

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{Decline}[16th January 1984]

[Redbook2:326][19840116:2400d]{Decline}[16^th January 1984]

19840116.2400

[continues]

I realised recently – during our break for building after Christmas – that I had once again become too immersed in the business, in the immediate time [sic], but that also – and more worryingly – signs and indications showed that I had over a longer period – or seemed to have – declined from levels of development achieved earlier.

This danger was perceived before this course was taken; but the course had still to be taken as, for all the intensity of my reaction to my earlier situation, no further progress seemed possible within it. The trap in this 'freer' life was always to let the means become the end; I hope that I have passed the major crisis and recognised it, and will recognise it if it comes again.

A result of this is that in our theoretically busiest month, I am pretty relaxed; but expecting something, waiting for something which (as usual) I cannot pick to pick me.

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{The Itch(4)}[16th January 1984]

[Redbook2:326][19840116:2400c]{The Itch(4)}[16^th January 1984]

19840116.2400

[continues]

The itch on my forehead occurs frequently, where the white spot was. There is still(?) a slight bump there.

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{A Dream of Three Churches}[16th January 1984]

[Redbook2:325][19840116:2400b]{A Dream of Three Churches}[16^th January 1984]

19840116.2400

[continues]

Yesterday morning, I think, a dream of which I remember three Churches side by side again, but more solid – with bricks – less intricate than before; and inside (the rather plain interior of) one of them, my suppressed anger conveyed in intense speech among half-drunk coffee cups.

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{A Dream of a Family Death [continued(3)]}[16th January 1984]

[Redbook2:325][19840116:2400]{A Dream of a Family Death [continued(3)]}[16^th January 1984]

19840116.2400

(Cousin) S* was ill**, but not seriously; my mother was more seriously ill, with a varying pulse rate which gave the Doctor some cause for concern, for a few days.

*[Elderly, female]

**[See last two previous entries.]

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{A Dream of a Family Death [continued]}[25th December 1983]

[Redbook2:325][19831225:0115]{A Dream of a Family Death [continued]}[25^th December 1983]

19831225.0115

On consideration, this snatch of dream* occurred earlier – certainly not later than Thursday 22^nd December, possibly earlier.

*[See last previous entry]

[continues]

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{A Dream of a Family Death}[24th December 1983]

[Redbook2:325][19831224:2130]{A Dream of a Family Death}[24^th December 1983]

19831224.2130

From yesterday morning I recall a short snatch of dream in which someone – female I think – my mother? – at some kind of small family gathering walked over to an old lady sitting in a chair and found the old lady was (seriously?) ill, ?maybe dead. There is in my mind some idea of a cold, but this may have arisen subsequently.

I very much hope that this relates to nothing in the near future.

[continues]

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{A Dream-Event Connection: The High Window Ledge}[17th December 1983]

[Redbook2:324][19831217:2345]{A Dream-Event Connection: The High Window Ledge}[17^th December 1983]

.2345

I ought to have recorded earlier (if I haven't already) that some months ago I had a series of dreams involving seeing people falling off high buildings, with much blood in the street; and with voices of family near me; and a dream or two of death, without cause. We had dinner one evening with [B] and [I], my aunt and cousin, at his flat off High St[reet] Ken[sington], on the third(?) floor at the front, on a hot evening with lots to drink and the low windows wide open – through which [my cousin] crawled to sit on the narrow ledge outside, feet dangling over the street. He invited me to join him; looking out, I realised that he was sitting on the wide bit, so that if I got out I should have to sit on the narrow bit:*

I remembered my dreams and became physically afraid, so much so that I had to sit down and eventually to ask him to come in; I tried and failed to shut the window.

While capable of fear and cowardice, I have jumped out of aircraft; heights do not necessarily petrify me, although perceived danger from heights can, and that height with my dreams did. I have not since then had any of the dreams described on this page.

*[Rough sketch plan included here might be scanned and inserted at a later time.]

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{The Brahan Seer [continued(3)]}[17th December 1983]

[Redbook2:322-323][19831217:2015g]{The Brahan Seer [continued(3)]}[17^th December 1983]

19831217.2015

[continued]

It was reading this piece*, which I take to refer to the Highlands, and seeing a photograph of Bonnie Prince Charlie's monument at Glenfinnan, a few days ago, that made me decide to stop fighting against my longing to settle in the Highlands, between the Mountains and the Sea, to stop compromising by pulling my settlement Southwards because of the needs of the business, to wander in fact wherever our vision leads us, and live there.

*[See last two previous entries]

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{The Brahan Seer [continued]}[17th December 1983]

[Redbook2:322-323][19831217:2015f]{The Brahan Seer [continued]}[17^th December 1983]

19831217.2015

[continued]

Allowing for the fact that the order of the words*, almost inevitably linear-sequential, is not necessarily the precise order of events, these words of the Brahan Seer spoken more than 300 years ago (the book says!) have proved exactly correct except for the final prediction, which has not yet happened. A couple of years ago, horrid black rains did indeed seem likely to refer to nuclear fallout or (possibly) oil; now the answer seems obvious: acid rain, which is having that effect (many scientists claim) already. If that is so, the effects could get worse but afterwards the people will return. This is also the future of [...]land in my mind, an 'inner mirror' of the land to which it is hinged; and somewhere I have quarter-inch maps of the Highlands obsessively covered (by me) with little circles which were the suggested sites for new Ward[-]Villages in a repopulated [Highland] Scotland.

*[See last previous entry]

[continues]

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{The Brahan Seer}[17th December 1983]

[Redbook2:322-323][19831217:2015f]{The Brahan Seer}[17^th December 1983]

19831217.2015

[continued]

Glancing again through a pretty awful book called 'Predictions' – part of the price paid to the Book Club for my Oxford English Dictionary – I was 'struck' by the prophecy by* Coinneach Odhar for Scotland and the deadly black rain, which when I bought the book in about 1980/81 seemed mystifying:

"The day will come when the jaw-bone of the big sheep will put the plough on the rafters; when sheep shall become so numerous that the bleating of the one shall be heard by the other from Conchra in Lochalsh to Bun-da-Loch in Kintail, they shall be at their height in price, and henceforth will go back and deteriorate, until they disappear altogether, and be so thoroughly forgotten that a man finding the jaw-bone of a sheep in a cairn, will not recognise it, or be able to tell what animal it belonged to. The ancient proprietors of the soil shall give place to strange merchant proprietors, and the whole Highlands will become one huge deer forest; the whole country will be so utterly desolated and depopulated that the crow of a cock shall not be heard north of Druim-Uachdair; the people will emigrate to Islands now unknown, but which shall yet be discovered in the boundless oceans, after which the deer and other wild animals in the huge wilderness shall be exterminated and drowned by horrid black rains. The people will then return and take undisturbed possession of the lands of their ancestors."

*[attributed to]

[continues]

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{A Thought-Event Connection? – Bombing}[17th December 1983]

[Redbook2:321][19831217:2015e]{A Thought-Event Connection? – Bombing}[17^th December 1983]

19831217.2015

[continued]

At about 12.45[am] we arrived at Dr. T's* house in Putney to get some cheques signed. We stayed for a glass of sherry for about – W and I agree – 45 minutes. As we left the road off which he lives, I was aware of a feeling of slight dizziness or disorientation of the head or thoughts; this, however, has happened before, recently, especially last weekend.

As we immediately found ourselves among shoppers, including youngsters, it struck me with some force that it was desperately sad simply to leave all these people to their fate of being blown up by bombs – nuclear ones, of course; what must be done was to insist that we** and the Russians mount a massive exchange program of all schoolchildren, so that the next generation would have sufficient trust in each other to throw down their weapons. The language barrier did not, at that time, seem to be a great problem; but I see now that this original and impractical solution has only once in my knowledge ever been carried out: in Ireland, where Protestant and Catholic children from Ulster were brought down to holiday together in the South, with precisely that idea in mind.

Association may well have been the form of communication there concerning the I[rish] R[epublican] A[rmy] bomb which exploded in Oxford Street at about that time; or it may have been co-incidence.

*Treasurer of the Royal [V...] Society (so-known), a client. <930119>

**[i.e the West, presumably.]

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{Falling into Love}[17th December 1983]

[Redbook2:320][19831217:2015d]{Falling into Love}[17^th December 1983]

19831217.2015

[continued]

A girl I have come across a few times and been attracted to; on W pointing out that she was attractive – I fell in love with: with all the symptoms; until, some two weeks later, I saw this event in the context of a rotation of (or round) the Circles: Church dreams having signified the approach of the [+C] point, the next significant (but not cardinal) point is Love itself, into which I fell. While I was explaining this hypothesis to W, the symptoms ceased.

Being 'in love' is of course a process of transition, an attractive impulse (i.e. an impulse involving attraction: the fact that one might appear to be moving away from the principle known as 'attraction' need not be relevant. Being 'in love' is not to be confused with 'loving', which may and should follow it. 'In love' is possibly a misnomer: it might be better described as falling into love. These symptoms ceased about a week ago.

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{Dreams of Partial Failure}[17th December 1983]

[Redbook2:319-320][19831217:2015c]{Dreams of Partial Failure}[17^th December 1983]

19831217.2015

[continued]

A frequent occurrence in these dreams is something or someone failing to do quite what is expected or required: and the 'what' usually feels like the right sort of thing, e.g. passing things up behind altars*, or floating gently to Earth**, which I fail to do properly – not failing altogether, but in part.

I do take this as a warning against too great a compromise – or perhaps against compromise with the wrong factors. Clearly body and soul need (at least for the time being) to be kept together; probably they need to be nurtured, or at least developed, in the proper way; I do not need to be indulged with luxuries. The distinction is not always easy to draw; so one should not attempt to draw it, being instead moved by that interrelation of events of which one is part, guided by these messages and by the feel of options. So it is in this context that our decisions not to stay in the re-run of interviews for the […] Trust, and to give up W's 'client' job, while financially a potential worry, seem and feel the right decisions: time is more important than money once the basics are cared*** for, and those are cared*** for as they arise.

My tendency to compromise wrongly – with the wrong factors – is a great trouble, one of the chief skills which I have to unlearn.

*[Redbook2:304-305][19831007:1430b]{Dream: Idle in Church}[7^th October 1983]

**[Redbook2:317-318][19831217:2015]{A Dream: Floating Down to Earth}[17^th December 1983][-- Last two previous entries]

***{=catered [for]?/taken care of?}

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{A Dream: Floating Down to Earth [continued]}[17th December 1983]

[Redbook2:317-318][19831217:2015b]{A Dream: Floating Down to Earth [continued]}[17^th December 1983]

19831217.2015

[continued]

The events* themselves seem of little significance: the quality was significant, the feel of it, but I saw it as more story than message, if one can distinguish. Nevertheless, the disappearing lady controller has her counterpart in (an) earlier dream(s)** which seemed more message than story. A possible association is with that familiar and frequent sensation of knowing more when asleep than when awake, encountered particularly on the edge of sleep: she is like part(s) of one's (?) mind that communicate(s) with the sleeping awareness, but not the waking awareness. The quality of the sensation of floating in a controlled way down to Earth was real.

*[See last previous entry]

**cf [Redbook2:189A-190A][19810704:0500]{A Dream of Forgetfulness}[4^th July 1981] p189A.

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{A Dream: Floating Down to Earth}[17th December 1983]

[Redbook2:317-318][19831217:2015]{A Dream: Floating Down to Earth}[17^th December 1983]

19831217.2015

This morning (finishing fully awake at about 4 a.m.) I dreamed a narrative so highly 'structured' or 'formalised' in flavour that I thought it at the time to be a Science Fiction story which I had read. High points recalled are (in order):

{1} A small conference or committee (including the 1^st person?) addressed by one particular personage. But another, female-type, to his left, had a model about 18 inches long of a totem-type person in sections: when she removed the top section of the model's head, the speaker's opinions altered. He could not see her; she then caused the rest of the conference to forget her.

{2} ?Some sort of (hiding?) event on ground not unlike the T-junction by the [C] tree nursery.

{3} A group of us, young space? cadets, moving through the mechanical institution/college hoping that others will not realise what we are going to do, despite the fact that we are in space suits and they are not.

{4} We drop off the edge of this installation and into space. We are floating down to Earth. But there is a malfunction in my spacesuit – something to do with a pipe behind my head, which my companion tries to indicate to me. I cannot correct it. All this time we are floating gently down to Earth, seen all blue and white and green beneath us. He helps me onto a structure floating in mid-heaven, which then starts to descend slowly with us (perhaps behaving like a balloon?). On the way down he picks a fierce argument with me, almost a fight, at the end of which he reveals that he had to do this in order to test my reaction, which has shown him that... (something) is alright.

{5} Arrival on the ground.

[continues]

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{Dream: The Messenger[/s] [continued(5)]}[2nd November 1983]

[Redbook2:314-316][19831102:2015b]{Dream: The Messenger[/s] [continued(5)]}[2nd November 1983]

19831102.2015

It is hard to describe or explain the effect this* has had on me, but it is not dissimilar to the experience of earlier 'spiritual' dreams.

I think partly this is due to the contrast of types: the first part, realistic thriller, dealt in everyday people, 'good' and 'bad'; the second, fantastic, dealt in demons; in the third, the Spiritual, the two brothers appeared clearly as Angels in their demeanour and light, albeit (by implication) not knowing themselves as such, and their clear integrity with the message of the voice stayed with me.**

[.]2300

A curious thing about this editorial intervener (in literary terms) is the fact that he addresses both readers and characters of the 'book' or work at the same time, without apparent paradox.

*[See last four previous entries]

**[See also [Redbook2:307-311][19831024:1000g]{Dream: The Peace of God [continued(5)]}, final footnote?]

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{Dream: The Messenger[/s] [continued(4)]}[2nd November 1983]

[Redbook2:314-316][19831102:2015]{Dream: The Messenger[/s] [continued(4)]}[2nd November 1983]

19831102.2015

The dream* was interesting in that it seemed to pass through all the significant types: starting as a bit of a muddle (at least as I recalled it) (possibly because [a] pattern took time to emerge), it developed into a story of juveniles in a realistic thriller-type narrative of intrigue and mystery seen from the point of view of a participant; it evolved into a fantastic narrative dream where the participant was a central figure and the 'evil' antagonists were ogreish and gnomic types in an underground realm; and finally it became a quite clearly spiritual experience (now viewed from an intervening editorial (or immanent God-like) point of view) in terms of the sense of it which stayed with me for much of the day (despite distractions). Yet the parts were interrelated: the earlier 'thriller' snatches led naturally to the explanation provided by the hidden power complex whose allegorical shapes could only exist on a different 'level'; and their evil nature (despite exceptions) in turn led, via the significance of the decisions (and means) of escape, to the clear spiritual point at which the dream ended – with the feeling of familiarity, that from this point on the story was known.

That point is worth describing again: The previous narrator, central figure since his arrival in the underground realm but narrated since his departure from it, entered a court not unlike the Court at [my secondary school] (it was parents' day?), wondering whom he could trust. As he advanced through the throngs the editorial intervener comes in, as in a book or film, clearly: 'God chose as his messenger then one Christopher and Davey(?) Bofors' (sic) – who are seen walking away (towards [the main (school)] House). They are young, fair-haired, cheerful-looking boys, probably brothers: one is bespectacled. One looks round**, then attracts the other's attention by lightly tugging his hair. As they turn and walk back towards the Gates to (and then with?) the central figure, the editorial intervener says clearly: 'Never mind what he said to them – they didn't hear it themselves.' The emphasis is on “hear”.

*[See last three previous entries]

** as if in response to the intervener's voice.

[continues]

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{Dream: The Messenger[/s] [continued(3)] (Notes) [continued(3)]}[2nd November 1983]

[Redbook2:314A-314E][19831102:0615c]{Dream: The Messenger[/s] [continued(3)] (Notes) [continued(3)]}[2nd November 1983]

19831102.0615

[continued]

The dream* started – before the point mentioned [above]: and there was much to do with observation points, overheard or transmitted conversations, etc. – as (I think) 1^st person narrative; by the end it had become definitely third person with editorial comment (even calling one of the Bofors to attract his attention?).

Symptoms: The last voice-over encounter was very clear, and ended with them walking back to [my secondary school] Gate – to meet hero?

I awoke then: wide awake (very tired now), hot (W cold, myself cooling now), have peed three times and defecated once in the half hour since then.

The building with damp patches is the modern one into which they went (to the hall etc.) – joined to the older one in? which was the 'underground' Hell-Kingdom.

(c6.45)

.0930

Thought when I awoke that this story, particularly the final viewpoint, could be well done on a future computerised sound-and-graphics system used to construct a video tape: but the final words would be unacceptable to many at the present time (though getting fewer?).

*[See last two previous entries]

[continues]

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{Dream: The Messenger[/s] [continued] (Notes) [continued]}[2nd November 1983]

[Redbook2:314A-314E][19831102:0615b]{Dream: The Messenger[/s] [continued] (Notes) [continued]}[2nd November 1983]

19831102.0615

[continued]

The earlier part of the dream* moved from a realistic 'mystery' set in some kind of institution – what was going on with digging (/construction?) in the grounds of neighbouring building? -- to entry into that building, which had become a slightly distorted fantastical and very Hellish 'military' 'dictatorship'. 'Hero' and others (girl?) – school child age – found themselves in a large empty hall filled with … bicycles?? (She attracted attention?) Suddenly hall filled with (politically?) grotesque threateners – he slipped away but caught up with other prisoners – escaped when he accidentally knocked over kitchen pot in doorway – Armed guard distracted to help. Twisting underground passage of activity: chance to go out but went in to cake-making centre with kind grotesques who gave him cake mix – he climbed up onto quivering roof of inflatable building – Noticed [it was] joined to Headmaster's House (sic) at one end, rest of school ([… House??]) at other – climbed on successive roofs (and previous hostel?) to ground level and noticed air fares absurdly low to …? – then [?] to [secondary school] court, people moving around, whom to trust? – to meet the Bofors. [Strong feeling then that from this point on the story is already known.]

*[See last previous entry]

[continues]

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