© Olaf Gamst 1980
Lithograph Artist Proof
© Arvin da Braga 2014
© Olaf Gamst 1980
Lithograph Artist Proof
© Arvin da Braga 2014
While the Moon transited both Aquarius and my ninth house, I would on Sunday, June 2, 1991 dream these next dreams. There were two dream cycles that day; it was Sunday and I was enjoying a rare day off. At the time, I was seeing an utterly superficial wealthy American from upstate New York who apart from being phenomenal sex hadn’t a fucking clue.
The other was a Montréalais Air Canada pilot going through a midlife crisis. Again, great sex but darling, I’m neither your shrink nor your mother; just bury your face in the pillow and yell my damn name! As amours fous come a dime a dozen, rest assured that by summer’s end both were out of my life; hell, I didn’t even do their Michael Overleaves.
Too, the dream of Whoopi, one of the four cats who made a home with Merlin and me, betrayed the dislocation that I then experienced. I was monstrously in debt and constantly having to uproot and start afresh. This proved a stressful time for both Whoopi and me but survive we did.
An encounter had with Maria di Caspieri-Dragan, in this the first dream, and we had been travelling a great deal. We were in a city of a far-off country. We had decided to go into this place to wander about.
The site was like a mall in a very cosmopolitan city like New York City or Hong Kong, however, it was not like the agedness and containment of European city centres.
We went to sit down and eat something and as we did, we began talking. I was going on and on while she sat there with a newborn child; the child actually looked more like a hairless white cat than a human being. As a matter of fact, the child even cried like a cat.
I chose not to say anything or focus overlong on the asymmetry of the situation. The child was very tiny, even smaller than the miraculous days-old Kendra Denman did when I first saw her beauteous eyes.
I thought passingly of Whoopi at the time. I decided that it was either a very psychic creature from its resemblance to a feline or a very ill-evolved proposition. I, for one, chose to stay clear of the child and focussed instead on Maria di Caspieri-Dragan’s familiar soulful energies.
Diego Lunamas was about because earlier I had visited with him with Maria di Caspieri-Dragan along at the time. I was carrying on about the experience of my stay while in Winnipeg back in the early 1980s which is where we had all met.
I was telling her how devastated and left out I felt when I didn’t make it into the production of Romeo and Juliet and the general group marginalisation that I had experienced.
Maria immediately got incensed; she stood up and screamed at the top of her lungs,
“I don’t buy any of this Arvin. You brought it all on yourself. And I never accepted any of that. I was there at the time and I don’t want you saying that that’s what happened because you know damn well that that’s not what happened.”
She was feeling incredible guilt about what had gone down. She was in major denial by protesting so passionately. She was in a true rage to which I added coolly,
“Well Maria di Caspieri-Dragan, you have your opinion and I have mine.”
When I had been with Diego Lunamas there was a moment where we were alone. Turning to look into his eyes, I said,
“Boy Diego Lunamas you have beautiful eyes. And I really do love looking at your eyes.”
I rather enjoyed his energies.
*What an utterly soul-crushing fetid experience was Winnipeg. Looking back, it was the best insight into Canadian racism and then I moved to New York City and became and was related to as a human being… again.
Besides, like a bad dream, I soon awoke from Winnipeg to meet the most wonderful, magical companion on this incarnation’s journey; and he was fun too, witty, nine parts intellect, great sex, could cook, a great raconteur and valued and nurtured my humanity.
My experience in Winnipeg only that much more made me appreciative of the beauty that was Merlin. Quite remarkably, his being White was the most incidental aspect of his totality, his humanity; this newfound love and acceptance, after having been in Winnipeg, was light years removed from the absurdist bullshit that one had endured.
Indeed, another’s perception of you is just that… a reflection of their spiritual maturity or lack thereof. END.
*Prior to sleep I had been antsy and moved about the apartment feeling very energised. Too high to even have taken to writing, I couldn’t sit still. Finally, I went to bed and decided to meditate.
Immediately, I had a spontaneous OBE – just as I did last Sunday. I was listening to a red-tipped black bird which after the fourth four-time chirp does a series of rapid-fire ululating-like calls.
The birdsong was quite beautiful. More than that, it was simply Zen the effect that hearing this birdsong at 04:30 had on me. I felt a degree of resonance with it. At my solar and heart chakras the same rapture, as I have experienced with great art, be it music, dance, writing or the visual arts, began welling up in me.
This lasted for an interminably satiating five minutes as this sole bird serenaded me with the advent of dawn. I was truly paralysed by its beauty. This moment was so utterly beautiful and hypnotic.
At the time, I was wearing the double-terminated amethyst crystal about my neck on a chain. Interestingly enough, the amethyst rested on my heart to solar plexus chakras. As the day shifted, speeding along from dawn to daylight, I immediately became very leaden before I could reach for any of the other crystals to use during meditation.
I soon lost focus so had to keep my eyes closed. At that, I saw a circling movement. There weren’t many colours associated with this but it was the audio stimuli that I experienced that mattered.
Something was happening in my hearing wherein I heard a high-pitched sound that was almost deafening. The pitch was quite acute. I was able at will to even turn off the piercing pitch, at times, because it proved so very intense.
Every time that it happened, I had a sense of a great flow of energy up through my crown chakra and out the top of my head. The sensation was very intense and very powerful. At the same time, there was as if an opening at my heart center and solar plexus.
The experience was very expansive and I simultaneously felt very leaden. Also, I had a sense of being so expanded that I felt very bloated and very light. In fact, there was one point where I detached the two separate polar gestalts and was able to levitate just inches above my leaden body and became focussed in the more expanded aerated-feeling one projected astral body.
I don’t know why it is because when Merlin was alive and I routinely had these experiences, I was never then afraid. I knew that I couldn’t die on him and I also knew that it was part of the shared process that we were moving through.
Now that I am alone without him, I have grown very afraid and don’t let go. I was so afraid of letting go because I thought that if I were to have done so that I could die.
At these times, I always think that there is something wrong with me physically. I was always afraid of ending up going somewhere and not being able to recover and thereby returning alive to my body.
Of course, with Merlin there in the bed with me, I always knew that I could recover because he would pick up on it, awaken and shake me awake. This did happen on a number of occasions. He was always there safely grounding me in this reality.
I was afraid of my loneliness and of being in the world all alone without the utter intimacy of his companionship. This then has made me afraid of being alone out in the loneliness of the vastness of these experiences.
There is a vastness that one experiences in moments like this that finally is just so overwhelmingly terrifying. Into the vastness, I saw a movement. The presence was a globe which rotated while coming towards me.
I was seeing the planet’s northern hemisphere as I hovered high up its atmosphere. I then saw a vast track of agricultural land that was in a bunch of undulating rows.
They were, though, rows of light with everything else around being dark; the troughs between the raised rows were dark. The globe itself was dark and the space about the globe also dark.
The rows outlined the sphere as it empoweringly tumbled towards me. The planet’s rotation was so exquisitely slow. Impatiently, I just wanted it to speed up; I then began wanting to fly, to project.
However, my desire to astral project wasn’t happening. There was just this globe that was so full of a power, all its own, and a force that was massively heavy. The globe tumbled in the knowing vastness of space.
Next, off to my right, I felt as though there was someone here in my apartment in the room who slowly approached my leaden body. I was too afraid to have opened my eyes.
I did, though, have a sense of the force being tall; the presence was not unlike the force of light which I saw next to Merlin’s body that time when I had entered the bedroom one night while writing out in the living and finding his guide, spirit or astral body standing beside his body.
The body currently was walking towards me and as it came I began being immensely energised by the force of the entity; the force was clearly a light being. The light being was bleeding energy into me as light simultaneously came out of my body.
I just felt so grilled and exhausted that I just had to collapse. I tried to scream but as I tried opening my mouth, I knew that if I were to have tried screaming it would be aborted.
I did try screaming but it came out as a slow-motioned, somnambulant stretched out kind of yawned breath. Quite remarkably, it was as though the scream had been slowed down.
I don’t quite know who was in the room; whether it was Gilson Magnusson, whom I have been seeing or Merlin or even my higher self, which was contacting me. Even though I didn’t see it as having been a negative experience, I just couldn’t bring myself to fully open up to experiencing whatever it was and wholeheartedly embracing and being in the moment.
I hadn’t called on the light to protect me before immediately slipping into the experiences; as a result, I didn’t quite know what to make of it all. I have also been quite out of it of late.
I have been so caught up with the business of coping with work pressures and trying to keep this job that I have not been in a very creative, healing, spiritual space of late.
For some strange reason, on slipping into the dreamtime after all that energy work, I found myself on this stairwell. In this the first dream, I had beheaded Whoopi but didn’t know what possessed me to have done such a thing.
I was really hungry, was very desperate and decided that I would eat her body. After having killed her, I knew that I just couldn’t eat her body.
Her body was still flouncing there and with a pang of revulsion, I thought that this just wasn’t right at all. Some people had gathered about but it was because there were some police officers around on a subway system.
The stairwell was a brown affair. Soon, the family of the person who had suffered some sort of injury on the subway system had arrived. They were a Black family. The person had died and was in a black body bag which was standing upright and waited to be taken away.
I thought it, at the time, a very unusual position to have the body bag in. Some of the family members were being consoled at the time. They had simply accepted what had happened and were not overly emotional or distraught at what had happened.
Seemingly the person was shot, suicide or had been killed by accident by an incoming train. Somehow, this incident had occurred leaving the person dead.
I didn’t see the body, didn’t know who it was and the people weren’t familiar to me, so I moved on.
That however had prompted me to have returned to Whoopi’s body which, even though it had been beheaded, was still in the death throes. So at that, I knew what I had to do.
“Whoopi, you are not going to go through this. I don’t want you to die. Tell you what; I am going to bring you back to Life. I know what I have to do.
“I will bring you back from this experience. I will revive you because this is the dreamtime and you will not die in the waking state. You will not die because I don’t want you to die.
“I am going to heal you of this.”
Her body, it turned out, had bled a whole lot of frothy-looking stuff that seemed some sort of parasitic element which it was ridding itself of.
“Okay then, I’ll heal your body of this infestation. When you awake Whoopi, you will not remember having had this dream and it will not in any way have affected you.
“What I am going to do now is, I am going to breathe life into you. When I breathe, your body will become whole again and you will put this dream experience behind you.
“When I go to the door, I’ll open the door and I am going to whistle and call for you then. When I do, on hearing my familiar call, you will be reborn.
“You will take on another body at the summoning of your instinctual response to my voice calling you.
“When I awake, you will therefore be alive.”
*Whoopi went out at 21:00 and still hadn’t come back by midnight and no amount of calling her summoned her to the backyard. So this was clearly a dream in which both she and I worked through some issues.
These issues were regarding her state of health, her concerns about whether or not she was wanted by me anymore. Indeed, issues around the fact of her being alive for much longer.
The dear creature was clearly feeling some emotional displacement at having lost Merlin and Zora and then having to be moved around like this.
Not just being at Bryan Trottier’s, where there were three cats to fend off in the same household, but also Bryan whose energies I know for a fact she found distressing.
Finally, she didn’t show up until well after noon today. END.
So I then began breathing very heavily into her severed-headed flouncing body. Whoopi’s severed body was showing signs of getting new life in it. I then went to the door of the house, which had a screen door, and looked outdoors.
Sunny, there was snow on the ground. This was one of those cool, crisp winter days with snow everywhere. The snow simply glowed because it had frozen over.
Apparently, freezing rain had fallen. The ground was icy and glistened.
I then saw this man with three dogs, in the distance, coming down a slope that seemed like at Mount Pleasant Cemetery. The dogs were happy and were barking as they ran unrestrained through the snow.
Theirs was such a wonderful intense energy. They were Labrador retrievers or some such breed. They were black but one of them was black and white.
They were coming from the left, running helter-skelter down the slope, through the snow into the valley. Then, another guy was coming with his dogs; he had, as a matter of fact, two of them. Both men were White.
Unlike the others that were coming from the left, the Sun was in that direction and off to the left. I was whistling for Whoopi but the dogs had heard my whistling and gotten excited.
They began barking and the ones coming from the left were unleashed. They were very excited to come running. The dogs from the right were leashed, young and were almost pulling their owner off his feet.
When they came together, off to the left of the door, the dogs were intermingling. All tails and drop-jawed excitement were they. This was such a glorious sight as their owners said hello and tried to restrain them.
I had treated the dogs’ owners absently and hadn’t paid them any mind but it was more because I was so attracted to the dogs. They were so beautiful and so happy.
Along then came Whoopi down his little precipice. She was speeding like a bat out of hell. She had heard me but was so scared of the barking dogs that all she cared about was getting home toute de suite.
Even though she couldn’t see them, she was bolting away when making it for the front door. She was so excited, bounding through the snow with feline finesse, her coat glistening in the intense helium.
Her coat was so bright and sparkling as the whites in it bounced back the intense sunlight, I thought,
“Good work, Arvin. Good for you! This is very good dream work. This is very good use of your healing and shamanic energies.”
At that, I opened the door for her to bolt in. The dogs saw her and began yapping away. She came in and was so happy to have seen me.
She threw herself immediately onto the floor, anticipating being lovingly caressed. With utter delighted abandonment, I threw myself on the floor with her and began playing with her.
This was one of the most wonderful dreams, I can assure you. Sheer and utter bliss transpired between us. Whoopi’s purr was so loud that I was awakened; of course, there she lay next to me silently looking on and slowly winking both eyes in that way which felines magically harmonise with us their bipedal hosts.
Of course, we don’t own them and why should they do something so gauche as speak and prevent us being in the dark as to who really runs the show?
*Again, for the record, I have not, nor do I ever do or have done drugs. More than that, it is not in my nature and both my parents lived their lives without once having smoked, done drugs or consumed alcohol. I just don’t see the point to indulging.
After having experienced so much disempowerment in childhood and youth, I am all about not giving away my power. Besides, as is fairly obvious, you never do drugs, drugs do you. I have too mighty well-endowed a pineal gland to be in need of enhancements.
Actually, that reminds me of a glorious dinner party, one of many, at Frederick “Mr. Hat” Jones’s; he was a milliner friend of Merlin’s who lived in New York City’s Times Square. The Norfolk, Virginia-born Black American was the greatest of souls; however, like far too many Black Americans, especially the creatively gifted, he was a deeply troubled and enraged soul.
One evening, at said dinner party, Frederick who had been trying to bed me for long months – it was a non-starter; he was a drunk who drank from the moment he woke up to when he finally passed out at night – finally turned his caustic focus in my direction and asked,
“Merlin, I bet that li’l motherfucker don’t have a big dick. Do he have a big dick? I know he don’t have no big dick.”
Without so much as missing a beat, Merlin who was ever cool and charming, paused, took a drag on the ubiquitous fag, blew a plume above and across the dinner table and intoned while turning to mischievously look into my waiting gaze,
“Au contraire, my dear Frederick, Arvin has the most well-endowed pineal gland I’ve ever seen.”
Conspiratorially, Merlin winked at me as we leaned in and he lingeringly French kissed me to prevent me from erupting in gales of wicked laughter; of course, that would come later as we rode by cab down to Chelsea where we sublet the Trocadero loft.
Not surprisingly and as can be expected, Frederick then added,
“Damn, I always knew that li’l nigger had him a big dick!”
Indeed, being with Merlin was truly recess for the incarnate soul. END.
© Arvin da Braga 2014
Oil on Canvas
52 x 40 cm
© Rupert Alexander
© Arvin da Braga
© Kenojuak Ashevak 2004
Lithograph 62 of 100
50th birthday gift from art dealer friend! A true treasure
© Arvin da Braga 2014
These next are a short couple of dreams, sans adult content, on this offering. These dreams involved one of Merlin’s oldest friends, from a WASP Brahmin family. More than that, this man is a mature soul king, though, not older-souled than Merlin and me.
As per the Michael Teachings, this man is the consummate study of the king holding court. King or no king, it all gets to be readily boring when your life is more so spiritually focussed rather than being consumed with being most-sort-after social butterfly.
At the time of these dreams, the Moon transited both Leo and my third house. Too, it was Sunday, June 16, 1991 and as the dream reflects, it was a time of intense emotional flare-ups as can occur when a will is involved.
Since I never see the need to suffer bullshit overlong, and am highly disputatiously West Indian to the core, this was a time of having to imperiously dismiss my lawyer with a full-lunged frequent directive,
“Deal with them!”
Carl’s Michael Overleaves follow the end of these dreams.
I was talking with Carl at nighttime, in this the first dream, while Maxime Gascoigne-de Montigny was about. Carl was seemingly playing devil’s advocate which was Merlin’s forte.
I think that Niles Ben-Daniel’s energies were around as well. Niles wasn’t present but Carl was, for the sake of argument, representing Niles’s point of view.
Carl was speaking about Merlin’s estate. I snapped at him flatly saying,
“Carl Leroiderien, it’s none of your fucking business. I don’t want to get into it. So just shut up and leave me alone.”
He was very sarcastic and bore his marvellous orthodontia at me.
At that, I got up and left.
Removing myself from that ill-spirited drunkard’s Chi, in this the second dream, I got to this place where Carl however decided to have come after me. At that, I began flying through the air for short distances to be rid of him.
This was a stepped city; I would fly up to a higher level, every now and again, to be rid of Carl’s pestering aggression. I would fly up the stairs; Carl did not find this funny at all because he would have to run.
Of course, he didn’t realised what I was attempting. My intentions were to have encouraged him to move away from the negative space that he was in to a higher, more evolved, space.
As I had kept flying for these short distances, he would doggedly keep up his pursuit. Truth be told, it was so wonderful to just push off and fly. Truly, it was rather exhilarating.
Finally, Carl got so mad that he ended up flying at one point. I thought,
“Good, Carl Leroiderien, that’s exactly what I wanted you to do.”
So, sure enough, I was able to teach Carl how to transcend his lower instincts – the domain of the ego’s aggressive negativity – and take to a higher plane and fly. He was, though, quite awkward at his attempts at flying.
Quite remarkably, it was almost as though I had just taught Carl how to fly in the dreamtime. Indeed, he has been much out of touch with his spiritual self in this incarnation.
He could only fly for short distances. I was somewhat impatient and soon realised that this proved a lesson in patience for me because ideally I would rather have flown for much greater distances.
I was saying to myself,
“Gee, I wish that he were much more advanced. I could just fly as per usual and he could accompany me.”
Carl, however, was terribly insecure about being in flight and not being in his usual element. Indeed, all Carl knew in life was how to hold court and little else.
Soon enough, we had transcended to a different plane altogether where it was nighttime. The city here was very massive and it was hard to discern a sense of time.
Too, it was really hard to say what age it was set in. Whether it was set during the Roman era, pre-Roman era or Egyptian times, I was unclear.
Even the fabled Atlantean or pre-Atlantean times may have been the setting for this dream. Perhaps, it was even set in the future somewhere. I found that it was quite hard to discern the proper time frame here.
*This was a very good dream which dealt with the importance of transmuting energies from a base to higher level. Especially, in regards Merlin’s will and estate.
These, of course, are energies which I will be encountering up ahead. This dream was about how I will be able to soar above the tumult, as it were, if only I will be able to keep the proper evolved attitude and at all times.
Thereby one would be able to affect even greater spiritual growth and evolvement; of course, this can only be achieved by taking a higher path, by being able to fly or move to resonating to the higher octaves, when communicatively relating.
Certainly, with regards to relating to all such persons, this was the path being shown to take and thereby relating on a higher level.
By relating from a higher octave, I actually would be able to affect spiritual growth within all those persons; regardless of how fleeting, whether they are aware of it at the time, or not or even if they were to choose to acknowledge it.
Regardless of how laborious the process may prove for me, as the dream analogy with Carl proved, the point is that I will have affected much positive change as with Carl.
“And for god’s sakes,” as Merlin would keenly remind me, “be patient.”
I was so pleasantly surprised that Carl had been able to fly. What’s more, that my intentions of trying to have affected growth in him proved not to be futile as no noble intention ever is.
Even though Carl hadn’t been able to fly for long distances or confidently, it didn’t matter because were it not for me being there and prompting him by way of taking the higher approach, Carl would not have flown in that dream. END.
Leroiderien, Carl 22/11/46 Toronto.
This fragment is not a young soul, just a conceited mature one. Conceit is not limited to the young soul cycle by any means.
Carl is a third level mature king in the passion mode, with a goal of dominance, a sceptic in the intellectual part of moving centre.
He has a Solar/Mercury body type.
Carl has a chief feature of arrogance, with a strong secondary of impatience.
This fragment was fourth cast in his cadence and his cadence is third in the greater cadence. He is a member of entity five, cadre four, greater cadre 42, pod/node 414.
He has a discarnate king essence twin, whom he did know earlier in this life but who died in the fighting in Vietnam. Although Canadian by birth this fragment immigrated to New York as a very young man, becoming a high ranking officer in the American Army.
Carl has a scholar task companion, who is alive, but there were no plans for them to meet in this lifetime.
In this life, the three primary needs for Carl are adventure, expression and power.
He and the fragment who was Merlin were comrades-at-arms in three major conflicts. In one of these, during the fifteenth century, they served the Duke of Lancaster against the forces of the Duke of York.
Carl has been a king of the realm as well as a king in essence and has held rank in the armed forces of many nations. The highest rank he achieved was as a Major-General in his immediate past life as a part of the British Raj in India.
Ironically, it was in India that this fragment was actually a king of the realm in the sixteenth century of the Common Era or Rajah, as they were called. As a matter of fact, this was Carl’s third life as a first level mature soul and he served his constituency with grace and aplomb.
Merlin was also once tutor to this fragment and at that time they completed one-half of the mentor/student monad. They had agreed to complete the other half but this was never done.
The fragment who is now Arvin knew Carl when that fragment and Merlin were serving with the forces of the Duke of Lancaster. Both Merlin and Arvin also knew this fragment when all three of them lived in North Africa in the third century of the Common Era.
At that time, Carl was a minor chieftain, while Merlin and Arvin were both travelling merchants along the spice road. This was the first time these fragments had ever met and the camaraderie that they felt for one another led to the series of subsequent encounters.
This fragment is positive for the Human Immuno-deficiency virus but he does not have AIDS.
This scholar-cast king could certainly be an excellent writer if he so chose. However, it is our impression that he would rather, as the fragment Arvin has noted, hold court.
This does not necessarily make him a superficial fragment. He simply wants the power associated with being surrounded by a group of adoring friends.
We would say that kings in essence do like to have their little entourages with them wherever they go. Many king fragments collect people the way that other fragments collect stamps.
This fragment has a great deal of scholar energy, however, and he tends to want time to himself, as do most scholars. He also has much drama, emanating from his entity.
King fragments of this entity – Michael’s entity – recall behaving in this same, rather indifferent manner during the mature soul cycle. The positive pole – mastery – of the king is very difficult to achieve in the mature cycle until the final level, simply because of all the inner work that is going on.
© Arvin da Braga 2014
As it has billions of millennia, impervious of the rise and fall of innumerable civilisations, arrival of extra-human visitors, ice ages and more, the Moon drifted through Sagittarius and my seventh house. Therein, of course, is my Moon – which in this incarnation has definitely represented Merlin – sitting on its corner of my grand mutable square to retrograde Chiron, Mars and Pluto… among other things, I can be a most indefatigable of foes.
At the time, it was Friday, October 6, 1989 and Merlin was then suffering with the second bout of pneumocystis. Shortly, he would be admitted to Wellesley Hospital – which, in this being Toronto, has been replaced by three condominiums and a palliative care centre – from which he would never return.
I awoke that morning to the crackling of fluid-filled lungs while Merlin peacefully slept his arms wrapped about me. I was thankful, despite the obvious signs of his returning pneumocystis because there was not the added pain of his being awake and suffering the effects of the Candida that plagued him for the past three months.
I watched him, in the morning’s growing light, until he stirred awake. We kissed, proclaimed our love anew and while he coughed and nobly slipped from the bedroom to the bathroom, I gathered the audio-cassette recorder on my night table and began – still not fully awake – documenting the following beautiful bouquets from my journey inward.
While at nighttime, in this the first dream, Pandora and Isha da Braga were about. At the time, they were playing some sort of game. Pandora was really warm with me. We were indoors in the house in Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts.
Pandora had started cooking but had then put off cooking; concerned, I asked her why. She started cooking onion rings and little sliced potatoes and there were tonnes and tonnes of it; they were as if being prepared for a restaurant. She was saying that they had to dry and they were really appetising-looking.
In an earlier dream, here recorded as the second, Gita Gurucharan had come by with Bipasha Gurucharan and Pandora was playing with the toddler. I was on a bed which had a light blue cover. Bipasha went under the cover and I was so amazed because Gita was at the foot of the bed as well as Pandora – on the left and right respectively.
This seemingly took place out in the backyard at 122 Mortimer Avenue; as a matter of fact, it was where the garage used to be. Bipasha was there and another little child whom I didn’t recognise. Bipasha, however, could talk and was saying things. I was so amazed. I was so stunned that I squealed with unabashed delight.
I grabbed and started celebratorily playing with her. I was calling her name and making playful sounds and really proud as all hell that she had come so far. I was just so elated to hear that she was talking and to see her.
Gita was really pleased at my response and Bipasha ran under the covers to get away from my tickling; she was so radiant a toddler as her face lit up with the purest laughter.
I played with her some more. All around, it was very nice.
Back in the house, in this the third dream, I was with Pandora and Harella da Braga was about. There was a carpet, like the one in the hall at Cabbagetown’s 20 Amelia Street, and there was a big canister there on wheels. Apparently, it had been brought there by Maxime Gascoigne-de Montigny who had shown up.
I was saying to Harella,
“I don’t care what is what. It doesn’t matter that Merlin is in the hospital right now. I don’t like him. I don’t want him staying in this house. And he’s not going to stay in this house. I’m fed up of him.”
I was really emphatic; there was no room for argument.
Pandora had said,
“Fine. If you feel that way, go and tell him because you shouldn’t be suffering unduly.”
*I was just frustrated more at the fact that Merlin and Morag had been at odds and though Merlin’s oldest friend, Maxime, had chosen to stay in touch with this woman – who to my way of thinking, he would never have known were it not for his oldest friend, Merlin.
To my very warrior-spirited approach, Maxime’s position seemed disloyal in the least.
More to the point, I was just mad at the universe because Merlin was inevitably moving closer to the end of his life and I would be left alone without him. I needed to protest, not so much at Maxime but the very callous immutability of Merlin’s imminent departure. END.
I was in the yards at Prospect Cemetery, in this the fourth dream, down the boulevard that goes into the work yard. I was looking for Jerome Poirier because he was the mechanic on duty. The John Deere vehicle was parked in such a manner that it was in the way because these guys were trying to back out some other work equipment and machinery.
So I took the John Deere and I reversed it all the way across the main road and into that little circle by the large elm tree – the circle that took you all the way to the eastern wall and just south of the Kitchener Gates.
I parked the John Deere and the road there was earthen. When I was coming back, there were two Black guys; both men were wearing leather jackets, green long pants and green shirts. I soon realised that they worked for Toronto Trust Cemeteries.
I was thinking that this was quite a new set of people working here and I was not familiar with any of them. The two guys didn’t know who I was. I remember walking back and past them in silence and looking down at my feet and noticed that I was wearing my work boots.
They were very silent and they had obviously been working very hard because they were sweating at their shirt collars around the back. On passing them, I had noticed the sweaty strains on the backs of their shirts.
I had gone into the yard, which here was much more expansive, and it turned out that I was now deposited in an altogether different locale. There was a lot of red machinery like the gravelies. The storehouse garage here was also painted red.
At one point, I had to go and put away one of the machines because it had been improperly put away by another guy. When I went up the stairs to the plant, it turned out that the employees lived on the site.
They were being checked in. There were two doors and I went and peeped in and you could look on your left and see them working.
This was rather interesting because I knew then in the dream that this was a continuation of a dream, set in the same locale, that had happened when I working back at Prospect Cemetery. Interestingly enough, I had gone to visit Prospect in the dream and it had evolved into this continuation of a prior dream.
Here, I was amazed that there were a lot of bunk beds on the left of entrance as I had looked in. These were flat beds, closer to the door, but down where the people were being checked in there were bunk beds.
Somehow, it seemed to be mostly Oriental workers there and they were all covered in grey woollen blankets. The man who was closest to me had an enormous erection and was playing with himself while sleeping.
A couple of people who were awake were looking at him paying him no particular mind. Anyway, he woke up and came out and I started following him and thinking,
“Oh baby let’s get busy.”
I really wanted to eye that dick of his some more.
When he got up to put on his shorts, I had seen his cock; he was blond. I thought at the time it was Karl Weller but it wasn’t him. He was an older man in his forties and he had gone off to get changed.
He ended up, as he walked out the door and walked past me, in Harella’s bedroom over by the telephone desk at 122 Mortimer Avenue. I kept on coming on to him and he said,
“No, I really wish you wouldn’t do this because I’m not interested.”
“Fine,” I flatly replied.
Then I went back and looked in again to see if, perhaps, I could find Jerome Poirier or Karl Weller. When I looked down to the right, where the people were being checked in, I could make out that they were Orientals.
I looked away again and looked back because, somehow, here in this dream my focus wasn’t all that good. My vision was warped such that I couldn’t clearly distinguish faces. I was quite aware of this incapacity in the dream. In this dream, it was as though I were nearsighted.
Anyway, I turned around and I went back to Harella’s Toronto bedroom. When I looked out the window, there was a man in black corduroy pants and he had beautiful strong legs; a mesomorphic body and a beautiful arse, he wore a blue top. I thought,
“Okay great. This is my chance to make my move and get laid.”
So I went downstairs and as I did, I decided that I was going to take off all my clothes and only keep on my pink merino. When he turned around from the fence, I could hold up the cotton top and enticingly rub my hard-on at him.
He seemed to be working on the fence that was at 124 Mortimer Avenue; the fence was going to be taken down and be replaced by a stronger fence. So he was surveying the place. He carried a notebook while working.
I never did see his face but he was the kind of man that you wanted to hold on to all night. I had opened the door and was looking up at him and thought if he looked around, he may not see me because of the tree in our backyard.
So I went through the yard at 124 and over to 126, Maria ‘Mama Mia’ di Bartoli’s home, back shed’s doorway. There was music coming from the house; then and there in the dream, I instinctively knew that Maria longer lived there. I didn’t know who the new occupants were but I knew who the ones at 124 were.
That woman, Tara Duggins lived there and she was friendly enough. From there, I thought that he was not going to see me either. So, with that, I decided to go back. As I went back, I noticed that I couldn’t get through the fence between 122 and 124 because it was raised.
I stooped down and I had to grovel my way, underneath the fence, legs first on my right side. I had gotten my head under when my face almost got caught in cobweb. As I was doing this, I thought,
“Arvin this is a dream, so I should have been able to just walk straight through the fence.”
In any event, I was already under so I didn’t bother doing that. I never did get the attention of the man.
*When Merlin became sick with full-blown AIDS, owing to the harrowing fear-based dreams I experienced, I chose to go work at one of the city’s cemeteries.
Got a fear, deal with it head on.
I was empowered for having thus challenged my fears; one of the most rewarding jobs that I have ever had. END.
Later on, in this the fifth dream, I would then end up in the red building again. This time, there were some workers about. When I went to the shed again, where I had parked the gravely-like machine, it turned out that I had parked it improperly. As a result, when the door was opened, it would be right in the way and anybody could stumble over it.
Some guys were telling me where I could go and put it. I was going to go and put it into the building when I encountered an Oriental guy. He automatically started projecting a great deal of hostility onto me. He was picking a fight with me; at one point, he had actually kicked me.
He did it again and when he kicked me again, I remembered from my dance training that when he put his leg up, all I did was grab it. I pushed his leg up in à la seconde and I knew he probably didn’t have all that great flexibility.
Although I was amazed, I should not have been surprised that he knew karate and he had quite swift legs. In any event, he kicked at me again, with his left leg, while I ran over to a corner cowering away from him.
Then I grabbed the leg because my cowering, of course, was mere theatrics. With that, I shoved up the leg. I then reached under him and kicked the back of his right knee and he collapsed to the ground.
To stop him from further attacking me, I pinned him down and jabbed him with the knees in the chest. He then came to, after I had abandoned him on the ground, and he was now wearing white shorts that had some white matching suspenders; he wore nothing else.
He had, as a matter of fact, a quite dark torso. He was very bronze but Oriental. I pointed out to him that he wasn’t all that hot because his stomach was sticking out and was showing; straight away, he immediately sucked in his tummy.
He soon realised that I was only making fun of him. Pissed off, he started coming after me and I bolted through the door and slammed it. He went around the way and I thought,
“My god, where am I going to go? He’s going to chase me.”
I saw that there was a brown Fiat-looking car and so I thought to go onto the roof of the car and he wouldn’t be able to get me. Then he started coming around and everybody was gathering around to watch the showdown.
“Well Arvin, this is a dream and I know exactly what I have to do.”
At that, I jumped down off the car as he was coming towards me. When I landed, I used it as a plié and I simply pushed off the ground and did what one would do when diving vertically in the ocean.
I dived upwards through the air and kept on going upwards. This was in very slow-motion and kept on going further and further upwards. Everyone on the ground was absolutely stunned and I felt such joy. I hysterically laughed for joy as I ascended. As I ascended there were lots of maple trees about.
There was a lot of breeze in the trees which rustled as though they were happy for me that I was in flight; this actually was something that I sensed from them. I was diving upwards in a frog-like stroke and for that reason there were momentary pauses.
I kept on going upwards and as I did, I thought that I had to stay clear of the electrical cables and did do just that. Soon, I vertically flew upwards past the electrical cables. When I looked down, everyone was down way below looking up at me. They were really scared and concerned for me.
They were mostly Black people. They were asking me to come down and wondered aloud if I wasn’t afraid that I would fall. Many had dismissed me as having lost my mind.
At the time, when I had come out of the building and gone to the brown car, I had passed a number of Black women who were about to go jogging. One of them seemed like Vanessa Banks-Abella’s mother, Juanita Banks. They were, as a matter of fact, disappointed in my supposed cowardice.
As I dove up and kept on looking back, I kept on thinking,
“My god, what if I lose it and start to fall?”
I knew, however, that I was dreaming so assured myself that even if I were to start crashing to the ground, I would ultimately not die.
I reminded myself not to be negative,
“Arvin, this is a dream and it’s about flying. It’s about power, about empowering myself. It’s about the power of the psyche, especially unrestricted, as it is in the dreamtime.
“Don’t you worry, Arvin. You are not going to fall down. It doesn’t matter how the people on the ground are reacting, and are fearful and concerned that you are up too high. It doesn’t matter.”
“This is what Dreaming is about. You are advancing. You are flying.”
Then it dawned on me,
“Good for the Oriental guy to have kicked me; it was quite a lesson in disguise.”
This was about being challenged and tested as to whether one would choose a fear-based response or not. He was a blessing because I would not otherwise have thought of flying in the dream.
I was quite happy that I had encountered this adversary which, I suppose, one could see as my being at war with the psyche – doubting, being fearful and, finally, that part of the psyche – the soul – kicking one into action.
This was actually so good very good spiritually. I then flew up higher and higher. I soon decided not to bother looking down because it did not matter and they couldn’t in any way have caught or affected me.
There was some talk of them, perhaps, shooting me down out of the air and I thought,
“Yes, perhaps, but they are not going to be able to because I can evade their bullets.”
Besides, I was now up too high for their stun guns to shoot that far. I was well out of their range.
So I thought,
“All that I have to do is no longer be focussed on falling and realise that I was in a dream and have the capacity of flight. I just had to keep my gaze up and ahead. Just as I had in the waking state in St. Croix that day when swimming and experiencing a freedom that was mind-blowing.”
*In March 1989, I visited St. Croix and stayed with my regal aunt – who is actually a mature king soul. While there, I went swimming one day at one of the hotel beaches in Christiansted. There were lots of German tourists on the beach, some Danes and naturally many Americans.
I got out into the crystal clear waters of the reef-necklaced island and began lazily crawling in the water. I was well more than forty yards from the gentle-breaking-wave shore when I decided to stop crawling and bury my head below the tranquil surface. Below me, some ten or more feet down was the largest stingray imaginable which lazily drifted by directly below me.
As it moved past, I watched my aqueous shadow undulate across its massive body. I had never felt such peace and wonder, while in the waking state, in long ages. It was the most beautiful moment. The creature drifted ahead of me and after it was out of sight, I thought how sad it would have been to have experienced fear rather than be in the moment and enjoy its beauty.
Goodness knows to have feared it would have had nothing to do with the creature. The stingray was simply going about its business, in its aquatic realm, enjoying the play of dappled light on its richly dark skin. So far from sure, I could have panicked. What good, in the end, could have come from such an irrational response? END.
I then righted myself and began horizontally flying and it was as though I was going at a diagonal. As though flying eastward and the major artery was Toronto’s Bloor Street, I was hugging the south side of the street.
I was, however, diagonally flying as though to go towards Cabbagetown. I was in flight by Brunswick Avenue and Bloor Street West and there were people gathering in the street to look at me.
There was quite a commotion to see me fly by. I was quite surprised at the stir that my being in flight had created; this was, to say the least, interesting. Then I came to this building which seemingly was a very old building from Roman times.
There were these Italian women down below and they were saying,
“How do you know that you can fly?” They were, surprisingly enough, rather amazed.
There was a heated discussion, among the earthbound onlookers, which had to do with the races. I then joined in and pointed out to them that I could fly and that they needn’t worry. This, I added, had nothing to do with sex, virility, and the myth of the Black male which had been proffered below. I told them not to worry.
I pointed out things in such a way that for being so aged of spirit, I had counselled them in a healing capacity. Truth be told, it wasn’t necessary for them to fear people who were different than themselves because we were all the same race.
At that point, I stopped clinging on to the millennia-ancient building and started flying again. I ascended and drank in the pleasure of the tall maple trees about and their sublime beauty.
I really had a strong sense of connectedness to them and was keenly aware of these majestic arboreals lauding me for being in flight. Their energies were quite jubilant and life-supporting. Indeed, it was very nice. I soon flew past the Romans below, who were truly from millennia ago, and moved on.
I got to a point where I alighted and I did so in the streets of Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts. When in flight, Pandora and Isha da Braga had seen me. Pandora was so ecstatic and she was so genuinely happy,
“Yes Arvin, you’re flying. That’s wonderful.”
Vanessa Banks-Abella was also there but she was much younger. Her mother, Juanita Banks, too was much younger. It was a mélange of Crab Hill and Mount Idle, Sandy Point, St. Kitts where Vanessa lived during childhood at her much-loved grandmother, Lara Wellesley’s compound.
Vanessa and her sister, Margret Banks-Sealey, were there and they were talking about one of Lydia Ralton’s two daughters who was really tiny and was almost redheaded. As a matter of fact, it was actually that girl whom Pandora and I saw when we were home in St. Kitts last March 1989; she is that woman who had a child and now works at Jack Tar Village resort.
She was over in the yard alone and playing. Vanessa and the others were trying to coax her to come back across the street and not be afraid of traffic. At that time, I was coming along that street at Mount Pleasant Cemetery and I saw Ian Banks Jr. on a bike. Ian very small and I said,
“Junior, how you doing?”
I went over and shook his hand. I asked if he didn’t recognise me and he defensively answered no. I asked him how old he was and he said 23. I then asked how come he couldn’t get away and he told me not to bother with his family. He said that he knew how to seduce and sauce – charm – them up.
He was just as feisty as when I last saw him. He did, however, look older. I was trying to refamiliarise him with who I was but I had become almost gargantuan in comparison to him. He couldn’t believe that it was me. He was on his little red bike like he had back in childhood. Presently, he was really concerned about getting back home.
Then as he moved along the street, the dream then shifted. Ian now walked not in Toronto but back from Cookie Sole’s, across the street in the Roman Catholic Church’s compound to cross the street, to his house at Lara Wellesley’s compound in Mount Idle, Sandy Point, St. Kitts.
When we got home to Crab Hill, I told Pandora and Isha to look at me. The rest of the village had gathered and I told them that I was going to fly. So I pushed off from the ground and began flying.
I decided that it would be better, instead of doing diving motions, to flap my arms instead up and down like wings. Besides, it had been the flight pattern that I had used after having let go of the crumbling chimney in the old Roman ruins.
This mode of flying had proven much more economical. I could flap them at leisure and it proved a really good feeling.
So anyway, I decided to flap them to take off and on doing so, I vertically ascended. When I got to the chosen zenith, I thought to myself,
“Now I’m really going to try and roll over and tumble over on myself – like I did in that meditative trance state, on November 30, 1988, last year.”
I started doing that and as I did so, I felt so beautiful because time actually slowed down. Soon, I was experiencing the same thing as in the out-of-body meditative experience of a year earlier.
I felt so incredible and it was so beautiful an experience. Then, I had a sense of enormous expansiveness and everything turning blue; this was a blue like on November 30, 1988 and December 26, 1972.
When I looked down at the people on the ground, everyone was being seen through a blue aqueous light medium. This was so incredible and so intense. I perceived them all through my fully manifested aura. I started tumbling backwards on myself towards my right shoulder.
My head was turned towards Mount Idle due south. I was directly above the street in front of Florence ‘Flori’ Pole and Raphaell Saunders’s house. This was truly an incredible experience.
At the time, I was simultaneously aware of feeling this great sense of resonance and glistening – as I call it – of my body as I laid here on the bed asleep but spatially aware – just as in that dream on September 9, 1988.
I could feel my body electrically zinging with the stray particles that engulfed me, across dimensions in the dreamtime, as I tumbled in flight. This experience was quite something and rather incredible.
I then alighted down and went off to see a film.
*Later that day, after Merlin had listened to the day’s taped dreams, as he was in the habit of doing, he commented at dinner,
“You know, my darling, I must say that was quite the anticlimax. All that cosmic spirituality and then this Lamb just casually goes off to see porno.”
This naturally made me deliciously roar – and deliriously at that – at my great fortune to have found and enjoyed Merlin’s stellar spirit during the course of this lifetime. END.
We then went into this theatre, in this the sixth dream, but by the time I had gotten to the theatre, I had forgotten what film it was that I wanted to see. I was still so elated from having flown and having had such incredible experiences that my focus was understandably off.
Earlier, Pandora, Isha, and I were talking and saying that during Pandora’s visit from Paris – which was the case in the waking state – we should perhaps go and see a film. We had decided on a film but now they weren’t with me.
I was at a Cineplex theatre but here, it was like a roofed over amphitheatre; the place was strangely enclosed. Too, the space was sectioned off and each of these theatres was quite tiny. I couldn’t quite figure out, for the life of me, which film we had earlier decided on.
There were two smaller theatres and a large circular place like the Roman forum – that should be Coliseum. It was most colossal and here there were many people: Whites, Blacks and Asians – all the races were represented. However, everyone had meticulously applied makeup and especially so about the eyes.
The made up eye were unusual-looking. There was this one White guy, in particular, whom I had noticed and he had yellow kohl which went way past his eyes towards his ears.
There was a Far-East Asian woman and she had from her temple a little bronze statuette that had a crescent Moon and a star inside it. The item was like an earring but it was directly over her forehead which seemed, somehow, to have been suspended.
She also had a very unusually round face which was half-Moon-shaped. As though she had an open gill system, just out of view from head on, her jaw was decidedly splayed. She was extremely pretty. This woman was clearly extra-human.
This I noticed as I was walking down, trying to find a seat and deciding where I was going to sit in the theatre. In this way, I was able to get a view of people on either side of the aisle as I advanced. There was a very noticeably Gay White male.
This ostentatious, effeminate Gay White male was trying to get the attention of the young White male who wore enormously elaborate eye makeup.
However, the young man’s makeup had nothing to do with his sexuality. He seemed more bisexual than either heterosexual or homosexual. Nor was he particularly interested or aware that he was the centre of this man’s attention.
I found that interesting because the guy to the right of me was very Gay. He behaved ostentatiously, overtly Gay in his approach to the people on the left. All the people on the left were very different-looking persons. They were of another race; they were EHs and rather interesting.
I then went off over into a little room, in this the seventh dream, as I was going to be watching this particular film. The film was called, Ideal Love: A true story. When the second part of the title appeared on screen, there was then action in the background. The action was viewed through the same blue as I had encountered when in flight.
Then there film was focussed in an aquatic medium that was coral-pinkish. There, a little boy was strapped down to bamboo reeds in a hut. He, though, was of a race that was amphibian so he was in no danger of drowning. There was a storm under the sea and he started being swept away by the strong currents. I was really saddened by his predicament.
Then some people came in: a White and a Black woman, and I asked them who was starring in the film and they replied, Christine Lahti. I was asking if it had to do with Isabella Rossellini but I couldn’t remember her name in the dream.
So I tried to describe her by saying that she did those Lancôme Ads in magazines and had done a couple of movies. The Black woman said that she thought that Isabella Rossellini might be in it but it was quite an interesting story.
As the film began, the story was moving along and I soon realised that it was not particularly to my liking. Even though it was a cosy theatre and quite warm, I just couldn’t get focussed enough to get into the film. I thought that, perhaps, I would rather be watching an action film and not a drama. All in all, it was rather interesting.
I had the sound turned up really loud. At that point, the patron of the theatre came in. A woman, she looked like the actress, Bea Arthur but she was blonde and very made up; she had silver-white hair actually with lots of finery in them.
She was very tall and lean and wore a long open coat. She was almost skeletal and intense. Without a doubt, this woman was likely extra-human. The coat just fell from her shoulder right down to the floor and without any curves; the look was very linear à la Jil Sander.
She was letting me know that I shouldn’t have turned up the sound and that I should be quiet and pay attention. She then left but there was positively no sense of sexuality about her being.
I was, in this the eighth dream, on the subway – possibly the southbound platform of St. Clair station. I was being very vain and my hair was long and out. At the time, my hair was quite bobbed and beautiful. Pandora da Braga was commenting on it again as she had in that dream earlier which was set in Crab Hill and I flew for onlookers.
While I was waiting for the train to arrive, I was being silently looked at by the people around me. I brushed my hand through my hair and pulled out some stray strands and it was very thick, black and coarse like Pandora’s.
When the train started coming into the station, I noticed that there was a White woman walking with handbags down on the tracks. She was wearing a tan-coloured trench coat and was stout. She wore a head kerchief and was clearly a bag lady.
She was undoubtedly going to be hit by the train. I was so upset by the spectre that I ran and hid myself because I thought that I just didn’t want blood splattering on me.
*Who gives a damn about her? Here, I was all about being vain… youth is such callous solipsistic fare, alas. END.
In any event, I went and hid around the corner by the stairs to the street level. There was just no having blood on my clothes and definitely not in my shoulder-length hair!
The train passed without much incident or sounds indicating an accident. None of the other people had moved; I thought it so incredible. When I came back, there were was no signs of blood.
I entered the train, like everyone else did, and I didn’t know whether she had been laying down there. I couldn’t, however, see how anyone could have reached down and pulled her up to safety in time.
The train, though, had honked its horn and slowed down a bit. I don’t know if the woman was deaf or if she was intent on suicide. I then settled in as the train uneventfully started moving. Rather self-aware, I chose to draw on a deep breath, close my eyes while aboard the train; thus, after all that dream activity, I consciously chose to spirit my way back to the waking state.
© Arvin da Braga 2014
Within these next dreams, four in all, there is a dream which serves to complement the dream recently shared entitled, “In your hour of need, I will be there.” Indeed, in my hour of need, there would be extra-humans who would come to my aid.
Too, apart from the third dream, there is a beautiful interlude between Merlin and me. These dreams were a wonderful adventure into the lusciousness of spirit that is mine in this incarnation.
The dreams occurred on Sunday, June 11, 1989 and, at the time, Merlin was then still incarnate. The Moon then transited both Virgo and my fourth house; interestingly enough, the Moon was then in the same phase at the time as the aforementioned complementary dream.
Enjoy and sweet dreams.
In this the first dream, I was in a studio and there was a woman present who was a mélange of both Lee Boones and Carrie Paynes; their warmth and the immediacy that I have always felt with both of them were the dominant resonance to the other two women. I was instructing the class and I used the familiar woman to show the combination.
What it involved was that I needed a very snaky flashy movement. As we did the variation, it started out in a crescent. You started with a preparation then plié, tombé back onto the left as you are going from stage left to right in an arc.
You tombéd back on yourself, then you followed with a développéd into temps levé, pas de bourrée. On the half count “and” was a quick glissade and then you picked her up and you arched around the crescent. Afterwards, you came down to land in time to quickly do a temps levé en pointe and readied to go into the next tombé to go back to the other side.
Then when you were coming back the second time, on the other side, the next couple began. The pianist didn’t know what kind of music tempo I wanted. So, I had to go over to the piano and sing out the opening of the adagio from the Don Quixote grand pas de deux. That was what I wanted to manipulate and sustain the sense of flight that I was after.
Although, during the run-through, I wasn’t all that strong to have picked up my partner but I managed to have gotten the feeling across anyway. At the time, it was nighttime in the studio and was rather nice.
In this the second dream, I was climbing through these trees and went from tree to tree. I was so excited because I wanted to get ahead as I had all this camera gear. I had planned on taking pictures from the perspective of the stand of trees down over into a beautiful valley. However, for being tree-perched, I could only just get glimmers of the valley.
In the tree ahead of me had greedily gone ahead little boys from back at home in St. Kitts. I myself was tiny like them and, as such, these little boys were my contemporaries. One of them was Denis Thiereault and they were all precariously on the branch of a spruce tree. They had not realised that it wasn’t going to be wise for them to hang out the spruce branch as they were.
Denis was out onto the edge of the limb; a third person then came out onto the limb of this huge spruce. With that the branch started buoying up and down. Denis lost his grip, when he got scared, and fell. I watched him fall to the ground and it was quite a hard fall. There was no ground break; he just crashed into the ground with great impact.
Everybody scurried about him and they tried to pick him up; even the guys scurried down out of the tree to help him. They picked him up and turned him onto his back and tried to revive him.
I was totally horror-struck. In a state of shock, I clung on to the tree that I was in. the tree seemed like a London Plane that went up for 50 to 70 feet. Here I was and after all that trauma I then had to come down out of this tree.
“I’ll never be able to make it down because half way down the tree, I’m going to panic and experience vertigo.”
I readily knew that I would have to concentrate or have to awake.
Suddenly, these White men around; they appeared on the scene and were older. Rather than Caucasian, they were literally white. They were silent beings but they were not radiating thermal light from beneath their alabaster while skin.
I had called them to my rescue by reaching out telepathically. Thus, they had suddenly manifested on the edge of the dream.
Quite remarkably, as they approached the tree, they became giants of more than twenty to thirty feet tall. As a result, they were able to let me tumble backwards into their outstretched cupped hands.
Comfortably nestled in the bay of their cupped hands, I felt truly protected and cared for. Slowly, gently, they graciously lowered me from the considerable heights down to the ground.
I was deeply appreciative. They were rather nice and kind of them. They were so evolved in their old-souled mellow sweetness. Without a doubt, these were extra-humans who had come to my aid in my hour of need.
I went across Amelia Street to Avril Pinkerton’s lawn and, here in this the third dream, there was no white picket fence. The cottage was a cobblestoned affair. Merlin and I were there and he was doing a drawing. We were rather warm and affection towards each other.
We were both sitting in second position and I had my right leg thrown up over his left leg. I was on Merlin’s left facing the street and he was sideways towards the street.
Then a beautiful, long silver-blue Mercedes went by with a beautiful couple in it. I was rather attracted to the man and they were going into the Chained Up Duck; Le Canard Enchainé.
They took forever to come out of the car. I stood up and was all eager to show off and cross the street and go into the house and shake my tail feather for the man. Since they took so long to get out of the car, I decided to forget that idea.
What was really interesting was what Merlin was doing with the painting of me. He had turned my face into a sphinx’s and placed some pyramids in the background. Deeply absorbed in his creativity, Merlin looked so serene as he painted.
The interesting thing about the painting was that it was a duplicate of one that I had done in the waking state in 1983 while in New York. I thought that it was so very interesting to see it being recreated in the dreamtime.
After a while, we then moved on into the house.
In this the fourth dream, I was in the yard of what seemed like York Cemetery. At the time, I was looking at what seemed the roof of the barn. However, it was south of where it is in the waking state. Here, it was also nighttime out.
While going back into the yard, one looked south to the barn as opposed to north. Though nighttime, it was quite bright and there in the sky very low was the Moon. Quite magically, the Moon was actually doing a tour of the yard. Remarkably, one was able to watch its sped up though timeless progression.
The Moon was blue with some dark spots where the craters were. What’s more, there were areas of white on the Moon and these represented peaks that basically were, I guess, now snowcapped. I found that rather interesting.
I knew that it was the Moon. There was then a sense of movement, from up to the south east, which proved a giant spacecraft. The EHV – extra-human vehicle or UFO – was coming down out of the sky towards the planet.
You felt the craft’s force; the sound and vibration of it was impactful on gravity itself and quite powerful. The approached was being calculated and one was being told where it was going to fall/touch down.
One of the interesting things was the fact that there was a gopher in this dream. It was larger than a rat and a squirrel and it was black. When it got to the peak of the roof, it was on the southerly side; of course, I was on the northerly side looking south.
When it came up from the south side of the roof, the gopher perched itself right in the center. The curious creature then got up onto its rear legs and peeped up intrigued at the spacecraft. You watched this little animal and you realized that it had a consciousness because it was aware of what the craft was and represented; the gopher had felt the spacecraft’s vibration.
More importantly, it felt the vibration of what was inside the craft; the gopher sensed the life that was beyond the shell of the spacecraft. The creature recognised it and knew what it was; the gopher’s species memory knew the vibration of the spacecraft’s occupants. I thought that to have been very interesting observation for the gopher to have made.
As the craft came closer and closer, the gopher then slowly turned around and went away. The craft was coming down to the planet at great speeds; we were quite concerned because we deduced that from the distance it was, it was so huge if it were to come to where the Moon was, it would probably collide with the Moon. Too, this craft would also be much larger than the Moon.
The craft looked as if made from was a giant rusty-looking iron such that it was reddish-brown, yet, it had a golden-bronze hue to it too. The craft looked very organic; it had what looked like a science fiction-type minaret.
There was one central body that had spiral arms that went off, if you like, to other spheres and other satellites of the mother ship. Of course, the most interesting thing was after it got to a certain point, it dropped into Earth’s space and became stationary. The craft then sent out a shuttle which descended planet side.
The shuttle looked like it was made of a dark rich redwood. In the back and below, the craft had a series of openings that were square and dark. The dark, however, was the fuel that was jettisoning the shuttle; it was like a black light that was coming out of its fuel exhaust system.
The craft below was shaped like the conventional shuttle in a Star Trek movie would resemble or it would be like one of these new recreational vehicles – minivans that have the flattened aerodynamic front which is not unlike the slanted face of a large quartz crystal. Below was another compartment with the latticed honeycombed-like squares that were like a fuel system.
The craft was laced about with a thin copper-like strip that seemed to hold in place the joints of the wooden-like panels of the shuttle’s shell. The spacecraft silently circled about the yard in my field of vision and flew around and around the yard. The shuttle hovered about and then did a 365 tour, quite slowly, but I was never panicked.
There was much concern that it was going to crash into the Moon and the Moon would be obliterated if another celestial body came in and was going to be so much larger than the Moon. Obviously, the spacecraft was expected to have an effect on the planet.
As a result, there would be catastrophic repercussions here on the planet with a new body in orbit about Earth. However, I was unsure what happened outside my frame of reference. As I experienced this spacecraft, it had proven such a rich exciting experience.
I remember feeling very close to the earth and the earth feeling very rich as it resonated with the feel of the spaceship. I was aware that beyond my experience everyone was running, screaming and panicking but I certainly wasn’t privy to that.
Though I never did encounter any of the shuttle’s occupants, my response to the visitors was not fear-based.
© Arvin da Braga 2014
The next dream was revelatory enough; however, it is what occurred prior to sleep which proved most intriguing. At the time, Merlin was passed some six weeks. The events prior to sleep occurred while I reclined in the pyramid – a photo of which appears on this blog – preparing for dream-saturated sleep.
That the events which transpired prior to sleep were not imagined or occurred in the dreamtime were validated by what I discovered on awaking, hours later, when heading into the living room of my Cabbagetown home. I readily understood the goings on.
Near the centre of the living room floor was a philodendron which Morag O’Hoare had presented Merlin years earlier. As she had proven herself a vile coward and betrayed a decades-long friend, I was not surprised by this display of Merlin’s formidable will. Merlin on his passing wanted to articulate his intention that this woman be in no way characterised as anything other than the fraud that she ever was.
The rather shamanic unfoldment and dream that followed occurred on Friday, January 5, 1990 while the Moon transited both Aries and my eleventh house. Naturally, I righted the Chi of my home with Glenn Gould’s interpretation of J. S. Bach Goldberg Variation played at full blast. A most magical fellow, indeed, was Merlin.
*I had a great deal of trouble trying to fall asleep tonight. Just as when Merlin would pay me that visit just after his passing I felt a strong sense of astral energy in the apartment.
At one point, as I laid here in the bedroom with an acute headache at my temples, I had a sense of there being something amiss in the living room. I chose not to get up and investigate.
The cats too were my trusty canaries, as they behaved most strangely, and were afraid to go out to the living room. At one point, Whoopi came to join me in the pyramid and tried to pull the covers off of me while I pretended to be asleep. There was definitely something afoot and at no point did Whoopi purr.
There was next a loud violent crash in the living room. On awakening the next morning and going to visit the living room, I found that the philodendron which Morag O’Hoare had given to Merlin was crashed near the centre of the living room floor. It was nowhere near the mantelpiece where it was perched.
I saw no way for it to have landed so far from the fireplace. What was even stranger was the fact that all the otherthings that should have beenaffected by it were undisturbed.
The large Richard Owen drawing over the mantelpiece was undisturbed, not even tilted off its centre, considering that the philodendron had for years snaked over the top and back of the large painting.
The African figure was undisturbed as was the bronze African head. None of the other plants, about which the philodendron snaked, were disturbed. I was not surprised really, at that point, in light of what else had transpired. The crash had sent Zora bolting to the kitchen and Whoopi, Zora’s feline sister, sort refuge by taking to the closet in the bedroom.
Next, my body became bloated and began undergoing the same displacing splayed energy and healing work as when I had beenconsciously dreaming yet spatially aware of my body when Merlin had walked me through that reparatory energy work session.
This time, as I lay now in the pyramid on my left side and faced out to the hallway, there was an enormous pain at my left armpit. I had again lost all motor control but unlike before, I was not simultaneously consciously dreaming.
I was fully awake but partially as though paralysed. I had no way to move my arms. I felt stretched out and it seemed that space and time became a slow-motioned mélange of syrupy motion.
I kept my eyes closed because there was such a strong force inthe room about me. I was afraid to open my eyes. Slowly, I began feeling myself projecting out of my body through the crown of my head but snaking back on myself to stay within the confines of the pyramid’s force field. The process was extremely excruciating.
I wanted it to stop; I was half in and half out of my body. The energy drain from the left armpit was more intense than during the last session. I just wanted to be rid of the pain. I thought to open my eyes so as to end the experience or protest its occurrence.
However, a loud voice boomed in my head which left me even more paralysed. The voice was more felt than heard. I was told to not open my eyes because, if I were to,I would not be able to recover from what I would see.
Basically, I would have seen my soul itself and it was not an energy source that my mind would have been able to fully assimilate without going mad in the process.
I did not open my eyes. Basically, my higher self told me not to do so. The tone was very James Tramble-like; the voice’s essence, in that sense, was like James Tramble’s but was not his.
There was a sense of going forward in slow motion and I felt my body actually undulating as though an aqueous wave of energy. I was as if flying very slowly through a very dense aqueous medium. Quite simply, it was very nice.
The energy drain continued further. I then took my body and forcefully tossed it over onto my back. That took a lot of willpower and energy. I kept my eyes tightly shut and then forced my way back over again and onto my right side.
At that, I had a sense of being on the phone to Niles Ben-Daniel and he was reading a paper and he was deliberately playing very vague and absentminded. There was a lot of silence and I didn’t like the whole thing and didn’t want to be on the phone with him.
There was a lot of static on the phone and, not surprisingly, some definite interference. What’s more, it was fairly obvious that there was much more going on in this phone call than the physical appearances and mechanics that the call suggested.
There was a large empty silence, at which I did say to him that I loved him, which created awkwardness in him. The conversation immediately wrapped itself up.
The interesting thing about this episode was that unlike a dream, I was not dreaming and there were no images as such being perceived and experienced. This frankly was a very psychic, occult, astral plane energetic experience. END.
Dream one. Also, I had a conversation with Olaf Gamst and I was on the toilet seat, next to the red drapes by the bedroom window. He was talking about really enjoying himself when we fuck and, he suggested, next time we ought to ask Lars Gamst to join us.
I was just listening to him and smiling to myself; I thought that I didn’t care because I just assume that everyone is Gay. I added that, if I wanted to, there is nothing to stop me from going out and having a child.
I added that I think that this too was Lars’s choice. I pointed out he was loving – when he chose to be and with whomever he chose to be – because he doesn’t choose to compartmentalise himself like his father did.
Therefore, Lars swings, I pointed out. While being very lucidly awakened in this dream, this was an interesting piece of insight to have simultaneously gleaned.
© Arvin da Braga 2014
Martin Luther King Jr.
© Derek Russell 2013
Oil and Acrylic on board 12″x16″
Because you, a visionary, dared to dream, 45 years later across the reflecting pool, a dream was realised on a cool crisp January midday on the steps of the Capitol on January 20, 2009.
© Arvin da Braga 2014