Dream of the Hyde Park Monument Mary Arms Outstretched Under a Communist Banner Erected by Sydney City Council and Why No One Cried for Sporus

Walking through Hyde Park there were monuments. Crossing the road there was a Sydney City Council monument above the underground entrance. A sacred Mary her arms outstretched and above her a red communist banner that declared Working For The People’s Benefit. I took a photo. I wanted to send it to Judd.

Dad had already crossed the road. I hurried across as the lights changed. On the other side of the road I was with Bobbie and Iain. Iain went the Roman way over pillars laid out on the ground that formed a path. It was a small Roman ruin. There was a degraded bronze head from a one-time statue lying on the ground too.

‘I took you here with Grace, remember?’ I said to Bobbie.

I then climbed a stack of bricks that was made into a pillar. When I got off this pillar it fell over.

‘That never happened before,’ I said.

A clunky fat guy was behind me and he also knocked a brick pillar over.

‘What happened to Grace?’ I asked.

I’ll stop here. The best dreams are never told.

Yesterday Revan said I defend the colonists. Yes I do I said BECAUSE we all know where that train goes. To Mao’s Little Red Book (August 2018). To rewriting history. Judd gets it (December 2023) History should be objective. About facts. What happened and why. Moral relativism in contrast is not history. Furthermore the past cannot be changed unless you’ve got a time machine – ah – not true not true – you can rewrite what’s past and destroy those who oppose the new conception. Mao showed us that (September 2018). Get the kids on side. They’re impressionable. Easy to brainwash. Foot soldiers for the cause célèbre. The goal is to re-configure society around the new conception. In order for that to happen all older conceptions MUST be destroyed. That means Mary. The Immaculate Conception (June 2023). She’s on the chopping block (December 2019). The church stands for the old order of things. Worse still the church was seeded from the even older barbarism of the slave owning Roman world. Unsanctioned historical narratives and archaic traditions are not permitted under the banner of new conception, which one should note, is equally immaculate in its absurdity.

Yesterday too I walked past St Mary’s Cathedral en route to my office via Hyde Park. Everywhere I looked I saw flags flapping in the wind declaring Sydney City Council Votes Yes.

Yes. This dream was a pre-voice referendum dream.

I never knew there were so many flagpoles in Sydney. There are thousands of them.

The flags commands.

See it several times and that command becomes an unconscious impulse.

They told us to vote Yes. They always tell us to vote Yes. Who’s They? They is the agglomeration of global interests that profit off the status quo.

They had problems with this one though.

When pushed They told us there were three steps. 1. Voice. 2. Truth. 3. Treaty. Goebbels or Mao either way the method is the same (January 2023). In Oldspeak voice means power truth means the rewriting of history and treaty means the redistribution of wealth.

It didn’t work out here in the antipodes because our old conception compels everyone to vote. If you don’t vote you get a fine. That means the Australian middle ground has a voice. In other democracies elections are held midweek when the middle ground is too busy working. There the radical fridge holds sway they’ll chuck the job to vote because they don’t have bills to pay.

Here the middle ground gave the establishment a big middle finger. The only region that voted Yes was Canberra. For Canberra it would have been a win. More jobs. More committees. More money. But for everyone else it would have been a net loss.

Hence the No.

I think people are waking up to the globalist agenda. I bracket the indigenous agenda and the LGBTQI + go green etcetera agenda together. Because it’s not about Aboriginals. It’s not about gays. They don’t care about the trees. Nor is it about Australia. The agenda is transnational. It spans the globe. What They the globalists want is your consent. For power, air, water, 2 + 2 = 5, who rules. The agenda functions like the Bolsheviks of old. They infiltrate the universities, activate the student body, indoctrinate the marquee students who then ascend to leadership roles in government, business and intellectual spheres, then boom, here comes the revolution. After that comes the wall. The acolytes are lined up against that wall and shot. When I read Christopher and His Kind I was surprised to learn that Lenin decriminalised homosexuality in 1917. But when you think about it that decree made a lot of sense. Say you’re the new régime. You need to get people on your side to fight for you because the new conception is being assailed on all fronts. So you galvanise the extremities of the bell curve, say the intellectuals, the artists, they’ve got the skills set you need to fight your propaganda war. They’re small in number hence vulnerable. That makes them more amenable for bonding to the new conception because you’re their one and only guarantor. They’ll fight for that. Either that or they’ll be torn apart by the vengeful mass. And when the job’s done and the puppet master Stalin takes control homosexuality is recriminalised and then here comes that lovely wall.

How many times does this have to happen in order for people to get it?

The Muslim world, Russia and China, they’ve banned the globalist agenda. This triumvirate doesn’t want no globalists infiltration destabilising their societal constructs. They should know. They’re seasoned pros at this game. This time it’s the triumvirate fighting back while the globalists attack sending weapons more weapons more to Ukraine et al. sending hundreds of thousands of young men and now women to die ignominiously in muddy ditches because I’m Joe Biden told me Putin hates gays and blows up pipelines (August 2023).

So what’s the goal?

F-F-Freedom

To me it seems the globalist agenda wants to eliminate all hierarchical structures in order to yield atomised individuals who, unable to form bonds with nonexistent like-minded humans, seek solace and meaning online buying stuff they don’t really want or need from mega corporations who raid all remaining resources in third world cesspools to make that stuff.

Is that it?

A techno-narcissistic-neo-fascist-newspeak-commie tyranny

A headless Hydra computer network

Devoid of personality

That serves no higher purpose

Other than the perpetuation the new conception

Encoded in an algorithm

Is that what people really want?

I don’t know.

I don’t shop at Amazon don’t subscribe to Netflix or Pay TV don’t own an iPhone don’t tick and tock X or zoom don’t do Facebook and friends except for WhatSapp coz it’s free telephony and the Tuber which I know is messing with my dreams.

Maybe it’s me that’s missing out?

All westerners, me included, lost touch with their innate wants and needs long ago. It happened before I was born. At least the church gave lip service to all that. The globalists ate what was left of that lunch. They want useful idiots. Empty vessels (September 2018). They want to fill your brain with advertising slogans. Nonsensical junk cooked up at DC think tanks. These are the control buttons They press to direct the cyborgnetic mass.

Jung tried to save us. Remember Individuation (August 2021 and September 2021)? By that he didn’t mean be an atomised individual to do as you want and please. No. He sought a reconnection of source to the innate.

Us Westerners are so far removed from that conception of being that I see no way back.

What I see is ruin

Iconoclasm

Parental burdens

Iain the family man struggling

Bobbie the working woman unfulfilled

The shadow lurking

And no amazing Grace. Not that one (October 2021). This one (December 2020). Maybe. I’m not sure anymore. About anything. They’re getting to me. Infiltrating my dreams.

Am I awake or is this a dream?

Now I know why no one cried for Sporus.

Repeat. Ukraine. Repeat.

Merry Christmas.

Dream of Rene Rivkin Dying and Leaving his Body to Say Goodbye to his Mother

A big fat obnoxious man died. He took off out of his body. He was off to the afterlife. He zoomed upstairs to say goodbye to his parents especially his mother. His mother sensed his presence and reached out to hug him. A plasma surrounded him. He was flying off now.

Reading about one-time celebrity stockbroker Rene Rivkin before bed. Packer’s Lunch. I picked the book up while visiting dad at St Vincent’s. I remember the old man. He used to work across the road. The last time I saw him I barely recognised him. Never met Rene. Thank God. Obnoxious. Fat. All-round crook. From what I read it seemed like he was a malignant narcissist. When his world came crashing down he killed himself in his mother’s apartment. I don’t know how he did it. I reckon he took the easy way out. Pills. Nope. Took some digging. Google doesn’t like this topic. Tape over the mouth. Plastic bag over the head. Talk about a statement. Terrible.

Reading Packer’s Lunch got me thinking about the stockmarket racket. I rarely dream about stocks despite the fact that I consider them every single day. I see this as a positive. Remember in order for something to become a conscious reality it must first become an unconscious reality. Good things take time. If I were dreaming about stocks all the time I’d be like Rene; certifiably mad, driven by impulse, psychological whim and fantasy. I once had an ego. I once thought I was right and that the price was wrong. Nope. The price is the price irrespective of whatever I want to believe.

I had to learn to be patient.

I don’t chase.

I’d rather wait for opportunities to come to me.

I lost so much chasing. In addition I wasted so much time listening to others. Remember everybody wants you to fail. I had to learn to tune out and shut my mouth. My stated preference is to do nothing. To dream. I don’t care about making a thousand dollars here a thousand dollars there. I won’t even get out of bed for ten thousand dollars. Nope. Unless I can make a million from an idea it ain’t worth the effort. Trades like this don’t grow on trees. They come around every five years.

And it’s been 5 years.

I can feel that trade now.

All that matters is my psychological capacity to act.

Because it’s only about you, whether it’s the stockmarket, a job, a relationship, or the world. It took me years to learn this. My problem was always reaching out to help those in need. It was a travelling Jesus continuously sacrificing myself. The problem with that approach is the world is full of useless people. In terms of scale I’d say about 98% of people are a complete waste of time. They’re looking for a lifeboat. They’ll take hold and drag you down into the abyss into their pointless inner world of psychodrama. Nope. I’m done with that. What matters is one’s psychological capacity. Know your strengths. Understand your limitations. Within those parameters lies your edge. That’s your winning hand.

The Appaged democratisation of the stockmarket will be what defines this cycle. It’s led to so much criminality. Compared to what goes on today Rene was a saint. Nope. It’s gonna end badly. GameStop will be one for the record books. The world’s been gamified. Knowledge counts against you. Someone made a song about it. Sums up the zeitgeist a snatch and grab operation the volatile sea the markets the pirates kids on phones.

The whole thing has become a joke. And the market makers are shameless. To me there is a baseline callousness about it all which says a lot about the collective mass. Like I said they’re not worth your time. And when it’s done and dusted the money lost and lives ruined will anyone go to jail?

Nope.

Dream of The Pirate King Movie Starring Sean Connery with Judd Discussing Onboard Sexual Dynamics

The Pirate King. A documentary movie that became real. Starred and started with Sean Connery as a character on deck. Shirtless taking in the sun in his Bahamas. No wonder he made the film.

Then Judd explained the sexual relations onboard that you don’t want to open that box coz it always leads to violence. Eventually a kid is fathered. Whose is it? It’s mine the head pirate would say. That’s when the knives come out coz there are many potential fathers. People we lose on a boat, I guess.

Before all this Solo the movie starring Harrison Ford. 1972. He played his real self in that one. Sir James liked Solo.

I had barramundi with Judd at St George Boat Club last night. Judd mentioned Peter the Café when illustrating a certain aspect of his elaborate sexual dynamics theory (August 2023). Judd reads several books per week. He’s a philosopher. The real deal. So much so he dropped out to drive a cab. I sat in awe listening to his discourse on the ins and outs of the Frankfurt school. But I’m dumb you see. I know nothing about nothing. My mind is simple. It retains nothing. In the dream state I recalled the time I saw Peter the Café wearing a wig dressed up as a pirate and to that I associated Sean Connery the most famous man to ever wear a piece. YouTube reminded me of that a few days before I had this dream.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fSNa9SG-h1A)

Click bait.

The Googleplex is fishing.

They think I’m worried about my hair.

Judd’s all in.

He did the Mussolini years ago.

Bastards!

Those Big Brother Blackshirts.

They’re listening in.

I was speaking to Revan the other day about toupee glad celebrities. Among them I mentioned one Nicholas Cage. I’ve been told several times by randoms that I look like him.

‘Excuse me, where do I find bread crumbs?’ I once asked a man who looked like the store manager at my local supermarket.

‘I don’t know I don’t work here,’ the man said.

‘Well you look like you work here,’ I said.

‘And you look like Nicholas Cage,’ he retorted.

That was no compliment.

On top of that came little factoids collected on Sean over the years. Back to Zardoz. Sir James loves that film. The brutals vs. the immortals (May 2019). In Highlander Sean turned immortal and wore an earring. He looked like a pirate in that flick. Then bare-chested. He used to live in Spain. He’d walk around the house and grounds wearing nothing but underpants. Like me. He got tired of the peeping toms so he sold up and moved to The Bahamas. Lazy bastard. That Bond remake where he coasted around on boats. He made it coz he didn’t have to venture far from home.

Plus Sean had animal appeal.

Much like Peter the Café.

Back to Sexual Dynamics. Let the Café loose on a boat and he’ll father children like he’s done all round the world. Men accept hierarchy, Judd said. Hence what the king says goes until the next chimp overthrows him. Those are the knives. The Café wouldn’t fight for that. He’d jump ship. For him there are more exotic lands to sow.

The Café’s not one for going solo.

Solo.

Sir James. He’s got that Harrison Ford look (April 2020).

Beats Nicholas Cage any day.

Sir James sent me an email a few days back. I haven’t replied. This was a dreamtime reminder. Dinners to organise. Cakes the bake.

I’ve said it once.

I’ll say it again.

Sexual dynamics. The Frankfurt School. Balding men. The Pirate King.

I’m not made for higher things.

I’m a clown. A fool. Johnny English less the hair (July 2023). All I’ve got is Frankfurter Erich Fromm. Those that appear the best adapted to the societal construct are in fact the most insane. I cling to that (May 2023).

So,

Do as I say not as I do. Judd said read this book!

(https://www.amazon.com.au/Cynical-Theories-Scholarship-Everything-Identity/dp/1634312023)