Julius lay with his eyes closed. His breathing was uneven. Like scraps of coloured paper, lights shifted before his eyes—red into black and back again. Each flash made his body shudder, yet he kept moving through the tunnel.
‘What do you see?’ Babaji asked.
‘There’s a conflict. A man and a woman. She is taking revenge. There’s a bitter grievance in her—perhaps for a daughter; I’m not told. But she has the right. Her pain has repeated many times.’
‘Can you describe her? And where is this happening?’
‘In a square. It looks like a station. She’s beautiful. Everyone is dancing. But the man isn’t telling the truth; he pretends he doesn’t remember. She thinks this will last for ever. It won’t. Something else is expected of her.’
Julius looked down at his body from the height of the ceiling. The cold was leaving him. Babaji’s palm was warm—like a doorway back into life.