Introduction

One of my nicest dream journeys was a year ago. I dreamt of visiting England. Unique about this was it was far from home; a faraway journey to chilly Kent. The scene – nighttime. The street scape typically mean and dark there in the Kingdom of Spotted Dick and coin operated cold showers in slums. This is depression England. I was in for a great surprise though, when I met the former flower of the realm, one who had wilted and died a dozen years ago. I met the wonderful Princess Diana and she was happy to meet me.

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Will o th’ Wisp

Dreams. Those dimethyltryptophane-induced nighttime wanderings produce alternative realities that are as light as a cloud. When I dreamed of dread England I knew that I was in for a shock. It isn’t often I am summoned to this icy and faraway realm. Why was I there? As I wandered down her narrow streets, black and white closed in on me, until I suddenly found myself in a well-lit room.

I turned and, lo and behold, standing there was Princess Di! One of her relatives was beside her. She was as radiant as the Culinan Diadem.

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Tiny

She greeted me with great warmth. When living she was famous for her winsome appeal. Here she was thirty-three and in a millisecond I shrank down to the size of a tiny insect. It was as if I was a tiny fly and I flew towards the Princesses’ cheek checking its’ silken complexion. “She has the most glowing and radiant skin,” I marveled to myself.

Now, I grew again to my normal man-size. She had something vital to tell, again, in that indecipherable, hidden language of dreams.

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Maximum Security

After our pleasant conversation the beautiful Princess told me that she must fly. I felt saddened as she was the most optimistic thing England had  produced since the hybrid rose. “Don’t cry, James.” she pleaded, comforting me with a smile. To cheer me she showed me a security apparatus she had on her lapel. “They even keep tabs on me in the afterlife,” she trilled.

Just after she spoke, I turned. A door opened and waiting there were the Princesses’ afterlife security personnel. They looked as if they were straight from the TERMINATOR films; donned all in black leather with chiseled, Scandinavian faces and  each man armed with high-tech lasers. They had a queer beneficent air to them. “Gentle high-tech deadly security guards – how completely ironic.” I amazed.

As suddenly as she had appeared she was gone.

Conclusion

So, I awoke to the comfort of home. I recall writing this down somewhere, so clear and lucid, was this dream journey. I had wanted to embrace Princess Diana when she walked the Earth. When Diana walked I would never had met her. This dream journey was my private audience from beyond the grave.

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Dream Journeys

Outworlders Return

Nightmare in Iran

The French Magus

Teaching People to Fly