My Dreamstate: Tashi's Passed-On Soul-Screen (Master’s Level-1 Instructions) – Pt. 2 Ch.1. 4

Ron’s fingers traced the edges of the Grimoire, feeling the slight tremor beneath the leather binding, as though the pages themselves were breathing. “It is,” he admitted. “And it’s speaking.”

The lantern-shaped s above flickered, casting restless shadows across the towering bookshelves. The symbols on the MP4 screen seemed to pulse, responding.

“An instruction for the dying.”

Ron turned sharply at Dr. Sid-Krats’s words. “For the dying?”

“For those who have just passed.” Dr. Sid-Krats’s voice dropped to a whisper, reverent. “The Grimoire is not simply documenting knowledge. It is transferring it. It’s a bridge.”

Something stirred in the air. A hush—deeper than silence—settled over the reading room, the weight of something unseen pressing against them.

Ron’s grip on the book tightened. “So this isn’t just research. We’re looking at an active transmission.”

Dr. Sid-Krats nodded, eyes dark with understanding. “Tashi Dalāi has passed.”

Ron exhaled sharply, as if the realization had hit him physically. The Grimoire in his hands pulsed once more, as if in response.

The film’s voiceover resonated through the room, weaving a tale of forgotten rites, celestial alignments, and the unseen hands that shaped fate. It spoke of stone-carved sigils that once bound the stars, of texts inked in vanished tongues, whispering truths only the worthy could decipher.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Prof. Ron Gawke stood at the edge of the vast reading room, the scent of aged paper and polished wood filling the air. The soft murmur of other scholars surrounded him, but it was almost as if he existed in a separate realm, his thoughts entangled with the enigmatic manuscript of the Grimoire.

The grand space of the Galactic National Public Library—its towering columns, vaulted ceilings, and the muted glow of chandeliers—felt like a temple to knowledge, where time and space were suspended in reverence for the written word.

Beside him, his colleague, Professor Protonic Wilhem, an Far-East Taoist Scripture scholar, aracheologist, and a scientist working on Dreaming and Meditation State Project of Dalaï Lama; leaned in closer, whispering,

"I can’t wait to show you what I’d discovered, Ron!”

The flickering of the YouTube MP4 screen, 43 inches, now displaying the documentary on the Grimoire (akin to the one that Śri had dropped during the avalanche when the Jade Chakra Dragon and Drakos transformed) answered in its own way.

The room grew still as the video flickered to life, its screen bathed in a soft yellow glow. Ancient symbols began to unfurl, floating across the screen like blocks from the Grimoire's manuscript, their characters shimmering with an ethereal light.

These glyphs, intricate and unknowable, moved through the air, their edges shifting as if alive, pulsing with colors that bled—gold, blue, crimson—merging and parting in fluid motion. The celestial drawings danced like a living tapestry, their vibrant energy swirling in mesmerizing patterns, a kaleidoscope of light and form.

Prof. Ron’s eyes narrowed, a mix of awe and wariness in his gaze. Nearby, books on Dào and Bön lay neatly stacked, their presence lending weight to the air.

The film’s voiceover echoed, its grave tone weaving a tale of forgotten rites and forces that stir beneath the fabric of the universe. It spoke of ancient patterns, woven in time, of scribes whose ink still lingered on the air, and cosmic destinies that pulsed just out of reach, yet destined to converge.

Documentary Script began.

“Death is the most crucial moment in our life.”

That’s exactly what Master had told us. Either and/or at the Avalanche, Tashi’s death-bed, or even here.