Why do I dream

The dreamer

Its difficult to explain this dreaming.

Ginn are known through out the  Arab world, in the pre Islamic period they were called Nymphs and Satyres of the desert
The latter were called Sheitans of whom Satan "Iblis" was their Chief!

Sometimes they were represented as whirlwinds of sand travelling across the desert "dust devils".

They would encourage men to dream sexual dreams and cause them to commit suicide after taking part in these sexual dreams, because of their faith or their emptiness, or just for being used as pawns in this one sided  sexual dream.

Remember the story of the temptation of Christ, where Jesus went into the desert to face  temptation.
The devil appeared and Jesus refused his temptation and the Angels appeared and rewarded him.

Well I am not as strong as Jesus and I will succumb to her sexual games, but I will not commit suicide,
which I believe is their ultimate goal for their victims.

When she visits me and I feel her body touch mine and her lips touch me, pushing her hips close to my body,  driving me frantic, with sexual desire, leading me on to that emptiness which is her goal, to drive me to my death by my own hand.

Well I will try to resist this, but I'm only a man and these feeling are part of my being, nature did this, making me as I am  and she is beautiful ! which drives me crazy! But I will not commit suicide Never.
When  my dream walking nymph realises this! she may set me free. one can only dream!

Agman.

Oh Dear isn't she so sweet.

In Her Memory

Did you have a little old lady living in your street, when you were growing up?

When your Mother and the other Mothers in the street stopped to talk with her,
she would touch your hair and face and give you sweeties and remember your name.

In fact she remembered all the children's names in the street.
when you got older and played in the street,she would stand and watch over you,
When you came out to play, you would shout your greeting to her and shout good night when your Mother called you in for the night.

When you were upset she would calm you, wipe your eyes with her wee hankie, that smelled of lavender and had a flower sown into its corner  and send you back to play.

When you had all gone into your homes for the night, she would stay for a while looking up and down the street, both ways,
as if expecting someone? or she was looking for a memory?

Then she would retire into her house closing the door.
She was often invited to tea and cakes and a chat, at our Mothers homes and listened to their stories, and she told hers.
Then she would  returned to her home before school  was out,
to await us children and do what she must have thought as her duty.

So that was the way it went, as the children got older so did she,
as they passed her as teenagers, they had grown out their street, some forgot to say hello, some even forgot her name, most of them didn't notice! when she wasn't there, leaning at her gate!

For one day a hearse arrived to take her away.
There didn't seem to be any of her family there, only a few Mothers from the street,
Then her memory, just seemed to fade away.

But this lady had a life, when she was young, she also played in the street and there was a little old lady there as well!
She went to school and learnt to read and write,
and had boyfriends with good times.
She went on and got married, and had a union with her partner for many a happy years.
She would waited for him to come home from work at night and take his hand in a loving greeting and they would go into their home together.

They raised their children and were very happy.
Her children played in the street, until they also grew out of it, and moved on with there own lives,
Holidays were spent visiting their children and grandchildren, good times.
She stayed in her home with her love until he passed  away!
Can you just imagine her pain? when she realised she would not ever greet her man again.

She had visits from her children over the years,
but they seemed to just stop for whatever reason ?
That's when her leaning on her front gate seemed to start.

Some might say she was a  quaint old relic of days gone bye!
But not me! for me, she was a sweet lady that gave back all the love,
she had received in her life, to us kids who lived in her street.
She was truly, our streets Guardian Angel.

Oh Dear!  Isn't she so sweet that little lady from our street.
I for one will never forget you.

Agman

Irena Sendley

Irena Sendler.
Died: May 12, 2008 (98 years of age )


Who is she you may ask?
Well let me tell, this extraordinary ladies story.?

During the second World war, in the Warsaw Ghetto. Irena got herself a job within the Ghetto, and during that time, she  carried to safety, over 2500 very young children.?
Can you imagine that?
She was stopped  and searched every time! the Nazi soldiers, let her in and out of the camp, she would have a baby in her tool box hidden at the bottom and a wee child hidden in a burlap sack! on the back of the truck, the barking of her dog masked any sounds the babies may make. Then there would have been her personal abuse from the Nazi guards.
Just imagine the tension during those moments? she must have had nerves of steel? 2,500 children?

Ultimately and unfortunately! she was caught and badly brutalised by the Nazis, they broke both her arms and legs and some how with all this horror surrounding her ! she survived.
I'm sure her full story is available on the internet, Google her name?

Irena kept a record of the children's names in a glass jar hidden in her garden, and after the war tried to locate homes and family for her  wee escapees! but unfortunately most were dead.
Gassed by the Nazis.

Now here's the Kicker!

In 2007 Irena was put up for the Noble peace prize, she was not selected? can you believe that?

A politician: A. Gore. won it, for his slide show on global warning.

Another politician also won it? Barack Hussein Obama, I'm sure you know these names?
But nothing they did was noble!
Makes you wonder about the people? who award this accolade for noble deeds to humanity, it's a joke!

It's been 65 years since the war in Europe ended and there are people within our Society who claim the whole thing was a myth!
There are other who would like to do it again.
As a people we must not let this memory be forgotten.
So I leave you with this promise I will burn a candle every year in her memory, and never forget this grand lady.

In the memory of 20 million Russians, 6 million jews,1 million Christians, and over 1900 priests. Who were massacred! Raped! Burned! and Staved to death! and Humiliated! by the Nazis.

Michael Jacksons "Earth Song" should make politicians hang their heads in shame. (If only they knew how ?)

Agman.

Irena Sendler

Manx Grand Prix

Honda

 I have just come back from a week at the isle of Manx Grand Prix.
I sailed down with a friend of mine and we slept aboard the yacht. We have be going for years, there is something that just draws us there like a pilgrimage.
Rain , hail, or snow we go? Why you say? I don't know! It would seem there is something more to it than just the enjoyment of seeing the racing and being around bikers.
I am going to attempt to write a blog about the the Call of the Motor Bike? I liken it to the Sirens call to Ulysses and his crew! full of promises, if they would only sail on to the rocks and their deaths, which they wanted to do and they would have, willingly!  if it wasn't for Ulysses blocking his ears from their songs. Like Ulysses's crew. We Bikers are unable to resist the "Call of the bike".

Agman.

Dream of dreams

 
Have you ever thought what a dream really is? is it just a visit to cloud cuckoo land! whilst  asleep, or is there something more?
If it's my dream! why do I allow myself to awaken at the best part?
leaving me frustrated and lonely.
It seems my dream is teasing me.
So that means I'm teasing myself, that's not cool!

The dream comes as always from nowhere, seeping into my unconscious vision and mind, in the form of flashes and as the time between flashes diminish, I  get a heightened sense of anticipation, it's a wonderful feeling, well! a least for those precious moments.

I became fully awake within my dream, to find her laying with her back to me; she has on, a pair of silk lavender coloured jamie's, making her skin and the colour of her hair just glow.

Oh! Yes I know! I'm dreaming and yes! I don't want to awaken, I want to watch her whilst she dreams, hoping it's me, in her dreams.

I moved towards to her, very timidly to lay close, I could feel her firm body and her heart beating through her jamies and she had an alluring scent that seemed to captivate me?
My thoughts and control have left me.Oh no! that feeling! 
Oh Please No! don't awaken me? from the dream now, it would be paradise lost forever for me.

I lean forward to kiss her on the shoulder and my lips could feel her warm skin through the silk! 
I'm becoming crazy with desire.
She turns to face me, she is beautiful beyond compare, wide eyed with shiny chestnut hair and red pouting lips, as she turned to me her top fell open! exposing me to her full beauty for the first time. 
She had an athletic body and small beads of moisture were covering her upper body. She is truly a dream and I am Lost!
The motion in her eyes, was slight,barely visible!from my eyes to my lips and back,

I moved closer and gently walked my fingers across her body I paused as she sighed and pulled me closer, and we kissed and at that meeting of our lips.
We started to frantically claw at our clothes! I was like a wild animal.

Then the flashes started, I felt like a man in a deep dark well! Then she was gone! 
Then she was back!
we were laying in each others arms tangled in our own flesh, she held me tightly for just a second and then pushed me back and she was gone! I was stunned.
What had she done to me? there's no-way! I could do this to myself.
In the gentle light of the dream just before she departed I saw her silhouette as a shadow against an unknown wall, 
and then I knew?
I was being played with! by a Goddess! Succubus! a Nymph spirit, 
who moves within the dream world, with-out conscious, doing what ever pleases her, using whom ever she wants?
she is ingrained into my mind and my imagination now, 
I am her slave, until that day? she doesn't want me any more!

I awake on the floor of my bedroom feeling empty.

Agman

A wee Zen Story

 











I'm sure that you may have heard a version of this tale in your child hood, but did you understand what it meant?

Two monks were washing their bowls in the river when they noticed a scorpion that was drowning, one of the monks immediately scooped it up and set it on the bank, in the process he was stung he went back to washing his bowl and again the scorpion fell into the river, the monk again saved the scorpion and again was stung, the other monk asked him "friend why do you continue  to save the scorpion when you know it's his nature is to sting"?
"Because" the monk replied " to save is my nature".

Our politicians have never understood this tale when dealing with the Arab world, but the Arabs have learned it well and keep stinging us.
One of us must change our nature, before too many of our fine young men die.

Agman.

Departure Time

Pawnee 260 night run

 




September 2012.



When I first started Blogging I thought it would help me, to organise my thoughts and memories.
I went through a period of being unsure of the effect on me, that changed, to being Ok with it.
It became a bit of fun and it let me talk of my memories! without offending or hurting other peoples memories, and I was safe behind my "Agmans" profile.
Now I'm not so sure, I changed my profile over to Goggle not fully realising what the effect would be, now I am receiving e-mails from family members who think their family's, are part of these
memories!
The enquiries are increasing from all points of the compass. I'm not sure how to handle this. I can't seem to change my profile back, and of course I've opened Pandora's box! so what's the point?
May be, I should stop Blogging! and move on, it was not my intention to harm anybody or their memory.

If everything seems to be going well! You have obviously overlooked something.
Agman.

An Arab in Italy

I've Just flown across France, in low cloud and rain and have decided to call it a day and land into Brindisi Italy, and spend a night in a hotel, and hope the rain passes through and I can carry on tomorrow for the Sudan.

After my evening meal I decided to go for a walk, to see what I could see?
Just a short distance from my hotel, there was a public park with the usual Italian plaza and statues, sitting on a park bench I noticed a small man, sitting huddled up, as if he was cold, he looked a bit like a beggar!  I walked on passed him, he never really looked up as I greeted him in Italian. we had eye contact for just a second then he looked away. there was a look of shame in his eyes, and I felt I had intruded into his space, embarrassing him, I continued to walk away back to my hotel.
The next morning the Italian airspace was closed for military exercises! so I couldn't leave, I went back to the park and my little friend was sitting in the exact position! he had not moved an inch.
I looked at him a bit closer this time, his clothes were well worn and ill fitting, with a military look about them, his foot ware was falling to bits! full of holes on the soles, and his skin was sallow, but dark, he has the look of Arabia about him, so I tried to greet him in the traditional Arabian way, in his own tongue.
He looked at me then looked away. (the look of the lost!)
I'd seen that look before in Africa, this man was lost! starving and thirsty without hope, he had given up on life, he is dying here, sitting, surrounded by plenty, and he seems to be invisible to the people walking by, they just don't seem to see him.
There is nothing more to do he is already on his journey ( maybe cleansing his hands and feet with water would help him ?)
I walked away,this is not my affair?

Back at the Hotel I was swimming in the pool, and for some reason or other? I just couldn't stop thinking about my little Arab friend! just couldn't get him out of my mind, it was niggling at me, there was something about him? don't ask me what?
He had a story within him and I had to know it , I'm helplessly drawn to it like a "duck to water".



I jumped out of the pool, got dressed and went to the local shop, I bought a couple of bottles of water and a pizza, and made my way back to the plaza.
My little friend was still in the same position, I walked over to him  said "hallo" in English and started to open one of the water bottles, he looked up and seemed to breath in the smell of the water,
I offered him the bottle to have a drink, he was unable to resist and made gulping sounds as he drunk from the bottle too fast. I took the bottle from him saying for him to "slow down, as it may make him sick" if he drinks to quickly.  I sat down beside him? thinking to myself  he's just a shadow of a man, huddled up in his own pain?
I gave him the bottle to drink more water, taking it back from him after a short time, and continued to do so, until he had consumed about half of the bottle, I then opened the pizza and offered him a small slice, he looked at the pizza and then at me.
I knew what he was thinking, so I said " this food will not offend your god" I took the other bottle of water and washed his hands and then I removed his shoes and washed his feet. It was like handling a small child, I put my hand on his shoulder and told him "I would take his memory to his family". (a wee white lie?) Placing the water and pizza on the seat beside him and a few dollars I started to walk away, he whispered "thank you" in English, I continued to walk away, not wanting to be part of his passing. I had seen this before unfortunately my help will be days to late.
I had done all I could for now and I have to go and prepare my flight plan and continue my journey,( life goes on)
I could only hope that he recovers enough to continue his journey? where ever that is!
Back at the hotel I spoke with the owner and she said " she would send a blanket and food for him" so that's a good start, I offered to pay her but she said "no". (bless her old heart?).

BSA Classic

This drawing has been done by John Hancox and you must agree it's so cool.

If you have an interest in this art he has many more on his website.

WWW.hancoxart.com.

Agman.

I don't believe this is true ? are we that stupid?

Our economy  is reported? as being as low as it can get, and yet! its also reported that we are giving £millions to a country that is far richer than us. It's also reported that  they are spending over a £Billion pounds on warships which we are unable to afford.  They are not even trading with our shipping industry?
The government office's that dish out this aid should be sacked! from their cushy jobs and put on the street into the real world with the rest of us , and replaced by honest people who realise we are no longer the British Empire but a third world one.

Oh yes I hear you say!

All credit must go to David Bell for his drawing here of a Sailing vessel, running in front of the wind, (the tea run) Inspiring!

Agman.