I have to say I was never a David Bowie fan, much of his music simply didn’t resonate with me and yet only a few days after his death he came to me in a most intense dream. I found myself in the caves of Peche Merle, they are close to where I live and contain some of the most important and beautiful rock art in the world. There is undoubtedly a shamanic quality to both the place and the art.
Bowie appeared to me and said, I have made the album Merkaba for my friend the Flute Player, gesturing to a man standing next to him. Looking at the walls I could see paintings of animal skins with dot patterns on them. The Merkaba is the body of light that comes with kundalini awakening and activation of DNA.
On the floor, sitting on animal skins were children, they were learning how to manipulate the dots to create the Merkaba.
Then Bowie began to sing, the songs had a haunting mantra/chant type quality about them, just Bowie’s voice, accompanied by the most exquisite Indian flute playing. I think Bowie made this album for Krishna, the cosmic flute player.
I am now most assuredly a Bowie fan, am I the only one to have heard his latest and undoudtedly finest work? I think not, because I know I’m not the only one to be visited by David Bowie in my dreams, as the Starman sings his way through the cosmos in his shining Body of Light.
Shamanic Kundalini Awakening 
Not sure if you heard his last album and videoclip Blackstar but it definitely had a very overt ritualistic vibe, a sombre almost Gregorian vibe Beneath the synth beats (which may have been calibrated for hypnotic effect — I would love to get sound engineering specs on the frequency range and BPM) I would not be suprised in the least if had set up the the whole recording process and symbolism as a form of mass ritual. A lot of Christians crying magic most foul but no, I don’t see it like that. There is much that is dark that speaks of primordial inspiration and hidden creative potential. My impression was that Bowie, for his parting gift left us this layer of fertile black psychic silt deposited upon the river delta of the wildest creative imaginings of our collective being, that it may never be parted with the wellspring of it’s inspiration. That it may never be denied the potential of it’s creative freedom.
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