Do you believe that some dreams contain premonitions? Well, I don’t. I am a very Dutch person that has both feet on solid ground and just don’t believe in hocus-pocus.
In my dreams I recorded a duet with Barbra Streisand, made love to every member of the Korean boy band Super Junior (twice), sold over 100 million copies of my book Pantau in India, and was invited by Oprah for an exclusive one hour interview. None of my dreams came true, with a few exceptions…
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Since 2000 I am trying to unravel the mysteries of the workings of the matrix of the universe and still I have no idea. However, one night in December 2003, I had a strange dream about a man in a glass box and a person called Brian from London. It was a strange dream, a little bit frightening as well, as I saw someone committing suicide on live television by jumping from a bridge. Normally I tend to forget my dreams as soon as I wake up, but this time I remembered the images of the man in the glass box and the other man called Brian from London committing suicide on live television by jumping from a bridge.
That morning I got out of bed, got dressed in my white “bedsheet”, and put my hair in a knot on top of my head. It’s not a fashion statement, but merely the way yogis tend to dress. If you’re dressed like that in the West, you may get arrested and put in a mental hospital; in India people will namaskar you, touch your feet with their foreheads and take in every word you speak as if they are spoken by someone of great importance.
I left my hut and walked on my plastic flip-flops along the cliff of Varkala Beach. I kept seeing the images of the man in the glass box, and a man called Brian jumping off a bridge on live television. I felt a little farklempt as these images were disturbing and I didn’t understand why they kept re-appearing in my mind.
That morning I got out of bed, got dressed in my white “bedsheet”, and put my hair in a knot on top of my head. It’s not a fashion statement, but merely the way yogis tend to dress. If you’re dressed like that in the West, you may get arrested and put in a mental hospital; in India people will namaskar you, touch your feet with their foreheads and take in every word you speak as if they are spoken by someone of great importance.
I left my hut and walked on my plastic flip-flops along the cliff of Varkala Beach. I kept seeing the images of the man in the glass box, and a man called Brian jumping off a bridge on live television. I felt a little farklempt as these images were disturbing and I didn’t understand why they kept re-appearing in my mind.
Normally I would have a fruit-muesli with yoghurt and coffee at Café del Mar, but this time I decided to walk a little further and go to a tourist restaurant that I had never been to before. Meanwhile I was mesmerized by the sight of a few dolphins swimming from north to south some 100 metres off-shore in the Arabian Sea, and this time I also saw a great whale with her calf swimming in the same direction. Should have brought my camera with me, I thought. Bummer! You don’t get to see big whales every day. I took in the lovely sight and the tranquil atmosphere of off-season Varkala. Only a few smelly hippie-like backpackers had found their way to Varkala but at 11 a.m. they were still in the process of sleeping off their highs so I was the only person on the cliff apart from the local merchants and restaurant personnel.
I entered a quiet open-air restaurant and sat down in the shade of a palm-tree with a book. It was deserted apart from one western man in the back of the restaurant who was chatting with a waiter. The waiter came over to me to take my order. An hour later I finished breakfast and stood up. I hardly ever signal a waiter to bring me the bill (which can take ages in India); normally I get up with a banknote in my hand and walk to the Indian who handles money and who often sits in the back of a restaurant. So was the case at this eatery. I paid my bill of 45 Indian Rupees to the restaurant owner who sat behind a little table in the back of the restaurant and greeted the western man who was still chatting with the waiter by nodding at him in a friendly manner.
“Ah, that is Pantau,” the waiter said to the western man. “She’s a yogi. She’s from Dharamsala in the Himalayas. That’s where the Dalai Lama lives.”
O my, I thought. I don’t even know this waiter and he even knows my name!
I smiled at the man who extended his arm to me. I kept on smiling while I shook his hand. 'I guess I don't have to introduce myself anymore. And who are you?"
“Hello, ma’am. I am Brian from London.”
And that was the moment my dream re-appeared in my mind. Brian from London. I wondered if he had anything to do with a bridge, live television, suicide and a man in a glass box. Here I was at a cross-road. I could say, “Nice to meet you,” and leave the restaurant, or “Nice to meet you. So tell me, how did you end up in a place like Varkala in India?” I decided to go for the second option.
“Nice to meet you, Brian from London.”
“So you live here in India?” he asked me.
“Yes, I divide my time between Dharamsala in the north and Varkala in the south. I spend the winters here as I think it is bloody cold in the Himalayas in winter.”
“That is quite a trip. India is big.”
“Yes, 12 hours on the Jammu-Kashmir train to Delhi and then two full days on the Rajdhani Express to Kerala.”
I had a good look at the man who didn’t appear to be very happy. I always wondered how people can look so sad and stressed in a beautiful beach resort with a more than fabulous view.
“Can I offer you a drink?” the man said.
“That’s very kind. Thank you.” I looked at the waiter. “I would like to have another coffee, please. Extra strong.”
I sat down next to the man. In the next hour he told me he was very unhappy.
“Two months ago I got into a fight with my wife. She wanted a divorce and my life fell apart. I left the house, totally disorientated. I walked and walked and walked and ended up on Tower Bridge. I felt so depressed that I wanted to commit suicide. And so I climbed over the railing and jumped.”
“O dear! But you’re still alive.”
“Yes. People who jump from Tower Bridge don’t survive. It’s high. Somehow I survived. I don’t even remembering hitting the water. I was knocked unconscious. But a few moments later I woke up and was floating belly up in the cold water of the Thames. My clothes were ripped off my body. I was completely naked apart from my shoes. I started swimming towards the South Bank. It was a totally insane situation as Sky Channel had recorded my jumping from the bridge. There were thousands of people standing on the South Bank. They were all there to watch David Blaine.”
“Who? David Blaine? Who's that?”
“He is a magician. He was executing some stunt by sitting in glass box for six weeks suspended in the air along the Thames.”
I nodded and felt a shiver run down my spine. “Right. I didn't know about that.”
“My attempted suicide was broadcast on live television by Sky Channel. It was very weird. But I survived and was taken to a hospital. A few weeks later I decided to travel to India. I flew to Goa and then took the train to Kerala. And that is why I am here. I thought I might find some sort of solution to my problems in India.”
I remembered the words of my own therapist in the Netherlands. In 1999 I consulted her to fight my own depression. I told her I wanted to travel to India to find a cure for my depression through a spiritual journey. She told me: “Sick people don’t travel to India to get better. Healthy people travel to India to get sick and die.”
I ignored her remark. I travelled to India shortly after and was able to cure my own depression in India. Seeing so many poor people dying in the streets in India, I suddenly felt a lot better about my own life. I hoped Brian from London would be able to find a cure too.
I spoke with Brian for a few hours before I moved on with my daily activities in Varkala. I never saw him again after our meeting.
And that was the moment my dream re-appeared in my mind. Brian from London. I wondered if he had anything to do with a bridge, live television, suicide and a man in a glass box. Here I was at a cross-road. I could say, “Nice to meet you,” and leave the restaurant, or “Nice to meet you. So tell me, how did you end up in a place like Varkala in India?” I decided to go for the second option.
“Nice to meet you, Brian from London.”
“So you live here in India?” he asked me.
“Yes, I divide my time between Dharamsala in the north and Varkala in the south. I spend the winters here as I think it is bloody cold in the Himalayas in winter.”
“That is quite a trip. India is big.”
“Yes, 12 hours on the Jammu-Kashmir train to Delhi and then two full days on the Rajdhani Express to Kerala.”
I had a good look at the man who didn’t appear to be very happy. I always wondered how people can look so sad and stressed in a beautiful beach resort with a more than fabulous view.
“Can I offer you a drink?” the man said.
“That’s very kind. Thank you.” I looked at the waiter. “I would like to have another coffee, please. Extra strong.”
I sat down next to the man. In the next hour he told me he was very unhappy.
“Two months ago I got into a fight with my wife. She wanted a divorce and my life fell apart. I left the house, totally disorientated. I walked and walked and walked and ended up on Tower Bridge. I felt so depressed that I wanted to commit suicide. And so I climbed over the railing and jumped.”
“O dear! But you’re still alive.”
“Yes. People who jump from Tower Bridge don’t survive. It’s high. Somehow I survived. I don’t even remembering hitting the water. I was knocked unconscious. But a few moments later I woke up and was floating belly up in the cold water of the Thames. My clothes were ripped off my body. I was completely naked apart from my shoes. I started swimming towards the South Bank. It was a totally insane situation as Sky Channel had recorded my jumping from the bridge. There were thousands of people standing on the South Bank. They were all there to watch David Blaine.”
“Who? David Blaine? Who's that?”
“He is a magician. He was executing some stunt by sitting in glass box for six weeks suspended in the air along the Thames.”
I nodded and felt a shiver run down my spine. “Right. I didn't know about that.”
“My attempted suicide was broadcast on live television by Sky Channel. It was very weird. But I survived and was taken to a hospital. A few weeks later I decided to travel to India. I flew to Goa and then took the train to Kerala. And that is why I am here. I thought I might find some sort of solution to my problems in India.”
I remembered the words of my own therapist in the Netherlands. In 1999 I consulted her to fight my own depression. I told her I wanted to travel to India to find a cure for my depression through a spiritual journey. She told me: “Sick people don’t travel to India to get better. Healthy people travel to India to get sick and die.”
I ignored her remark. I travelled to India shortly after and was able to cure my own depression in India. Seeing so many poor people dying in the streets in India, I suddenly felt a lot better about my own life. I hoped Brian from London would be able to find a cure too.
I spoke with Brian for a few hours before I moved on with my daily activities in Varkala. I never saw him again after our meeting.
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On September 5, 2003, David Blaine began his 44-day endurance stunt sealed inside a transparent Plexiglas case suspended 30 feet (9 m) in the air next to Potters Fields Park on the south bank of the River Thames, the area between City Hall and Tower Bridge in London.
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