06-19-12I was a spirit in a temple, or some sort of monastery. All of the devotees were women, who all wore white robes and floated about. The music of John Lennon constantly echoed through all of the halls, for some reason.
There was one man there, the Dalai Lama. He was dying, and all the women were distraught. He had cancer in his nostrils. He was laid up in a central chamber. Whenever some of the women tended to him, I seemed to be "summoned" to float above them, and they would ask me questions regarding the meaning of his state.
Each of his nostrils bore a strong resemblance to a certain female body part. They were held open by metal clamps as he lay comatose. There seemed to be something unbelievably powerful even more unbelievably deep within them.
It was my feeling that he should be allowed to die, and I endeavored to teach the women the wisdom of this. In the end they accepted it, and the world faded away in a very emotional scene as he passed on. It wasn't that emotional for me, though; it was just pretty strange.