Those that have seen the Christopher Nolan film “Inception” will relate to this. Those that have read Anthony Peake’s book “Is There Life After Death” will also relate to this. Last night, my wife had a vivid dream about being on a boat which was at sea in the middle of the perfect storm. She recalls being on board with the whole family, and that the boat was thrashing about in the water, giving her feelings of falling and motion sickness. She was scrambling with the ropes and holding onto my daughter for dear life. Eventually a huge wave hit the boat and she and my daughter were tossed overboard into the ocean. In the realm of consciousness, she had actually fallen out of bed with my daughter and they were both on the floor. She then proceeded to push her back on the boat (bed) to get her back to safety (clearly in some sort of hypnogogic / dreaming state). Once she was on the boat (bed), my daughter turned to her and said ‘It’s ok Mummy, we’re back on the boat now’.
So my wife is not sure whether our daughter said that in the dream, whether they had had a shared dream, or that she had convinced our now semi-awake daughter that she was on a boat not a bed…
Curiously (hence the reference to Inception), I asked her how long the dream lasted for (more specifically the thrashing about and falling into the ocean bit), and she said it felt like 20 minutes. One of the many things I have read about recently is internal and external time. It appears that the time that passes in the unconscious or subconscious states is different to the conscious state. Our conscious time (external time) is measured by the clock, and in the collective sense is shared with everyone else. Our unconscious time (internal time 1) is slower than external time, in that events commonly take longer than they do in conscious time, if indeed we dream at all in unconscious time. Our subconscious time (internal time 2) is longer still (i.e. my wife’s 20 minutes of thrashing/falling took 0.5 seconds from the edge of the bed to the floor), as it is said that when we are in the realm of deep sleep (REM sleep) we have our most vivid dreams, and time that appears to be in minutes, hours, or days in internal time, takes place within perhaps milliseconds in external time. Timescales of the dream within a dream.
Anthony Peake has an interesting take on the dream aspect of this entry (not that he as or ever will see this post). It could be, that in the unconscious/subconscious state, we have a precognitive ability to sense what is about to happen in the conscious state, on the basis that our senses buffer like a computer, and that recent studies have suggested that the point at which the senses detects something there is a 0.5 second delay from before it presents its ‘findings’ to consciousness, and during that time (in the case of dreaming), the subconscious dreamer has ample time to process an entire scenario and present it to the mind of the individual concerned.
#1 Meditation, that’s what you need
I have had feeling of regret giving up yoga last year for the last few weeks. It’s not the postures I miss the most, but the meditation. An hour of stretching and bending was good don’t get me wrong, but for those 15 minutes a week, I was in a different place. My place, without the distraction of family, friends or work. Externally visible to others, yet in my own internal solitude. As horrendous January was to be over in a few hours, I decided to take a long hot bath and listen to some sitar tunes on Spotify. There was a particular track on Anoushka Shankar’s latest album which stuck out a mile for me as the best on the album. It is called ‘Metamorphosis’ and every time I hear it, I start to feel my chakras giving it some. With a flannel over my eyes as a make-shift blindfold, on the track came and I slipped out of external time and into the hippy zone.
Within an instant, I had a overwhelming feeling that the Indian lyrics had some sort of meaning for me. So I googled the mantra. And this was what it said:
Om Tryambakam Yajamahe
Mrityor Mukshiya Maamritat
We Meditate on the Three-eyed reality.
Which permeates and nourishes all like a fragrance.
May we be liberated from death for the sake of immortality.
Even as the cucumber is severed from bondage to the creeper.
My recent readings have given me a lot of insight into the history and ‘esotericness’ of the pineal gland, and have been thinking for a number of weeks now that when I next meditated (whether it be at home or someplace else) that a deeper meditation was possible by focussing on the anja chakra (aka the pineal gland, aka the third eye)…
Before the track had ended, another feeling came to me. For some reason I thought of Laura my reiki master, and specifically the last time I had had reiki. At the time, I recall that she had her leg in a cast, and when she was doing reiki on me she centred on my right knee, and said that she felt there was something there, a blockage, a blockage that came with a certain level of frustration. After leaving, I turned to my wife and said that maybe Laura was picking up her own frustrations from me, in that her ligament damage had recently prevented her from starting up SUP (Stand Up Paddle Boarding), and it was she that was frustrated not me.
So there I was, lying in the bath with the remnants of cellulitis (yes on my right knee), acknowledging to myself that I was not taking part in a triathlon this year…
#2 Something Fishy going on
After my ‘karma’ bath, I went into the bedroom and for some reason the iPad was on. There was a track playing which was ‘State of Mind’ by Fish. Very odd I thought, not only due to the title of the track, but that no one ever listens to that album but me and I hadn’t switched it on. What was even weirder was the text message I was about to send. A chum had sent me a text to see how my leg was getting on, and for some totally bizarre reason, the word ‘still’ (“I am still in recovery mode” was that actual text) was replaced by ‘Marillion’ by the predictive text on my iPhone, Fish being the ex-lead singer of the band Marillion…
#3 Oooooooooooo (no I’m not talking about the Moto GP)
After I had retired for the evening, I decided to look for a local meditation circle near to where I live. I found one, and also opened the page again which had the translation of the mahamrityunjaya mantra. The page itself was quite interesting and goes on to state that there are 7 levels of consciousness:
Looking through each one, I found that when one reaches the highest state of consciousness (realisation, enlightenment) through yoga/meditation, then a specific mantra is adopted:
I am a Wave in the Ocean of Bliss. I and the Ocean are One. I am Ocean. I am That…
Reading this sent me back to when I was 20. I recall lying there in a still, blackened room, tripping my nuts off from too much THC. I recall the feeling of being burying in the sand up to my head, with wave after wave from the ocean hitting me bang on in the face (I believe the experience is called ‘sledging’). It was the next day that the sound of the waves in consciousness started (my tinnitus), and the waves have not left me ever since…
I’ve said many times over the last 12 months that for some reason, the number 42 is significant. The amount of times that number has popped up is becoming significant. As is customary these days, Saturday morning are me and pooch time. I’m always up first, and normally leave the masses in bed after delivering the obligatory cup of breakfast tea to the significant other. As it’s getting cold, we purchased Charlie a tartan winter coat, so on it went, as did the gloves and scarf (not his) and the next podcast in the Anthony Peake series (only 2 left now). This one was a rather lengthy one which I only got half way through, and was quite intrigued to hear him coin the phrase ‘Synchondipity’ which is a glued together / bastardisation of the words synchronicity (the simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection) and serendipity (the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way).
My mind wanders whilst out on the long Saturday walks, a time which I can release the mind from the trappings of the world and enslavery to the corporation. Shortly after passing the Black Pearl, which is (or rather was due to the recent storm surge) a pirate boat built from driftwood, Charlie decided to try and descend one of the old precarious staircases to the River Mersey (which had been cordoned off with some ‘barberesque’ red and white tape).
On seeing him loitering dangerously, I went over to the promenade wall/staircase and called him away, and as he did so, he revealed to me a number on the promenade floor. A painted yellow number. The only number I could see that was painted on the whole of the promenade actually. The number was of course 42…
#2 It’s a secret
A friend of ours has recent split from her long term partner of sixteen years and is feeling a bit down about things, as can be expected at the end of a relationship. We got to talking in the evening and I went on to explain how yoga, meditation and reiki had helped me move certain negativities in my life, which included a path from feelings of frustration/anger to feelings of indifference (I’m of the opinion that emotions are attached to love, emotions are attached to hate and whilst in those states, one cannot move on and can only do so once indifference has set in).
I also went on to ask her if she was a reader, and that a colleague of mine had given me a book in the blackened days of 2012 when I was in a dark place, and if she would like it, I would drop it off at her house in the morning. She asked me what it was called, and after I gave her the title of ‘The Secret’, her eyes widened and she looked quite shocked. I asked her what was the reaction for, and she said that before her daughter went back down to London from a recent trip up north, she left a book on her bedside table that she thought she would help her. It was of course ‘The Secret’…
#1 Flash before my eyes
Sundays mornings usually involves a local trip to the cinema as our wonderful independent picture house has a kids club at the weekend, and the prices for films are greatly reduced. As my daughter had recently broke her leg in school (not by being pushed ‘overboard’ by her mum), she gets pushed around by wheelchair temporarily (which she temporarily enjoys no end), so a trip to the cinema which has good provision for less able-bodied folks held no fear. Before we left the house, Keira was complaining about the seat belt being tight, so I chose not to put it on her. As there is little/no traffic around on Sunday mornings at 9am, there was little/no risk.
So off we went to see the Moshi Monster Movie, which not a classic to be fair, devoid of synchronicity (perhaps with the exception of Bobby Singsong, the Indian ‘Jollywood’ Moshi star who led a fine Moshi dance and got up to some serious sitar-based shenanigans).
After the lights went on, I carried her back to the wheelchair and this time decided to strap her in, to her mild annoyance. We left the cinema and waited for the lights to change to red. As we were talking about the movie, we heard the beep-beep sounding off so we began to cross the road along with a elderly couple next to us. We got to within a few feet on the centre line when a double-decker bus ran the red light right in front of us, forcing me to stop the chair dead in its tracks, with a little jolt to my daughter, possibly enough to push her out of her chair if she was not strapped in by the safety belt.
The driver realised that he was at fault, and in slow motion I had time to stop the wheelchair, to look at Keira to check she was ok, to look around at the elderly couple and to see the driver raise both arms up in the air as if to register his apologies for a potential calamitous event. He was going fast still (probably 25-30 mph), so I think that if we were slightly more advanced in the road, or her belt was not on, something quite serious could have occurred. But not today. Today was not that day. Thankfully.
So what was it that made me put the seat belt on, was it a return of health and safety obligations that I never had on my outward journey to the cinema, or was it something else, something precognative?
Kids are kids, and pushing her on up the hill towards home, she stated that the bus driver was a silly man, and that he needed more driving lessons. How true…
#2 Plate up
After getting my daughter back to the house and telling my wife what had happened (who wanted to contact the bus company to register her disgust immediately), I had a quick coffee and then went back down the hill to the store to get some provisions for lunch, which gave me a chance to pop on / finish my Anthony Peake podcast.
Now Tony is an avid fan of the works of Philip K Dick (an American science fiction writer who’s worked has been referenced or made onto film – such as Total Recall, Minority Report, A Scanner Darkly). In the interview, he cites a strange case of ‘synchondipity’, whereby he was approached by a group of students post-lecture who claimed that the reason why they were at his lecture, was that one of them was picking up a book from the library the day before and saw the poster for the lecture which had a picture of Tony next to a cover of the book Valis by Philip K Dick. The student in question went on to tell Tony that the book he picked up from the library was in fact Valis by Philip K Dick.
Picture the scene then on the M53 motorway not 2 hours late if you will, when I took the exit towards Bromborough and at the end of the slip road I was at the lights, stationary, behind a Range Rover with the personalised number plate of V14 LSS…
#1 I see faces and traces of home
I have often wondering how complex the mind is, specifically the unconscious or subconscious. I had the most vivid dream in the most minute detail last night. Nothing incredibly interesting happened, there was no boat, I did not fall out of bed. What did amaze me was the level of detail. I’ve never been to New York, but I recall walking through a part of Manhattan (for some reason the skyscrapers were not as tall) but every side to every build, every height, every different shaped window, every corner was conceived in full OLED quality. I had a meeting with an aging line-faced Russian project manager in an impeccable office, yet the signs on the doors were scrawled notes in red pen, on paper ripped from tatty notepads. Afterwards she directed me to my hotel which was literally next door, that had some sort of ship theme to it (the hotel was in the street but it looked like the side of a cruise ship deck).
So that was the dream. No spectacular events, just spectacular detail. It is astounding how one can create something so complex, and on that note, if ones unconscious/subconscious state can create something so magnificent, who’s to say that our conscious state isn’t doing the exact same thing…