Confession of a Ghost. 35. 6. House of Mystery

“CONFESSION of a GHOST”
a novel by Alexandra Kryuchkova
in the “PLAYING ANOTHER REALITY” series

6 BEFORE/35 AFTER. HOUSE No. 12

*****HOUSE of MYSTERY*****

***
Somewhere in the Universe


I stood in the Universe in front of the door to House No. 12.

“What did you say, Angel? The House of Secret Enemies?”

“The House of Secrets and everything that is shrouded in mystery. All the hidden, disguised, veiled by someone from you, by you from others or from yourself, forgotten purposefully or unconsciously, located at the bottom of the Well of the Subconscious or behind the scenes. Hidden diseases, one is sick, but doesn’t know about it. The secret enemies intrigue until one day they stab you in the back, and you’ll understand who they really were, because there is nothing secret that one day would not become clear.”

“It sounds promising,” I muttered grimly.

“There are officers of secret services, members of secret organizations, illegal immigrants. It’s the Sphere of Mysticism, mysterious phenomena, ghosts, s;ances, the unknown, Neptune’s transcendental inclinations to immerse oneself in our World, including meditation. House No. 12 is symbolically the Neptunian Sphere, meaning withdrawal from the world, solitude, loneliness, isolation, on one’s own initiative or forced by…”

“Forced? How is it?”

“Prison, hospital, including psychiatric, exile or forced emigration. One’s own initiative means monasteries, islands… The House covered in darkness is called the Dungeon. One of the 3 worst Houses, along with No.6 and No.8, should ideally be empty.”

“You promised I would see here my parents who would leave me as a child. Are they in prison?”

“Fortune-telling is far from the best way to find out the truth,” the Guardian sighed. “One needs to learn to look the Truth in the eye, stepping over one’s fear. Open the door, my soul.”

I closed my eyes, opened the door, stepped inside flying down and collapsed on the cold bottom.

“Angel!” I screamed in despair in the pitch darkness. “Where are you? I can’t see anything! There is no light here at all! There are even no stars!”

“I’m next to you,” the Guardian’s calm voice rang out. “You’ll soon get used to the darkness and begin to see in it as clearly as in the House flooded with the Sun.”

I tried to take a step in an unknown direction, but I couldn’t find the ground under my feet. An abyss?!

“Your House No. 12 begins in the last degree of Taurus, the Sign of Earth, there’s Air ahead.”

“What does the last degree of Taurus mean?”

“That stargazer called it the degree of Mars and Pluto. ‘A huge stone of iron ore rolls down the mountain and crashes into a block of ultra-strong flint, causing a blinding flash of fire.’ Many hardships, especially at the beginning of life, but one courageously moves forward, gaining experience that others lack, which allows to make one’s name famous.”

“No, Angel, no!” I screamed. “I don’t need any fame! I want to see my parents! I want to love and be loved! I don’t want to be at enmity with anyone either secretly or openly!”

The Guardian was silent, but in an ominous silence …

“Who is there?” I whispered as I heard someone’s footsteps.

Suddenly, a girl in black appeared right in front of me. She looked at me with inexpressible sadness, and tears were rolling from her eyes.

“Are you my mother? Why are you crying?” I asked.

“I’m Alcyone,” she answered sadly, took my hand, and we stepped into the Darkness towards the already discernible Moonlight. “I am in the star cluster of Pleiades, behind the Head of Medusa. The first and foremost of the seven weeping sisters, a projection of them all. I open the third eye in humans and give problems with earthly vision.”

“In the myths, Alcyone is associated with sentencing the dead,” added the Guardian. “She was credited with ruthlessness and condemnation, which led to blindness. When you incarnate, never judge anyone.”

“The energies of the Moon and Mars are combined in me,” Alcyone continued. “I’ve got clairvoyance from the Moon and aggressiveness in judgments from Mars. Both the Moon and Mars are in your 12th House. I’m an intermediary between humans and the spirits of the elements, brownies, mysterious forces. You’ll hear what others cannot hear, and see…”

“As a child, I’ll communicate with ghosts, then I’ll write a book, it’s already in the Library of the Universe,” I exhaled, but Alcyone didn’t react in any way, just tears continued to roll down her face.

“Alcyone gives one a strong connection to nature, animals will love and obey you,” the Guardian encouraged me.

“I can bring glory as well,” Alcyone sighed sadly, “as well as spiritual patronage, in your case, a secret one.”

The Moon appeared at the next turn. Alcyone stopped, indicating that it was time for us to say goodbye.

“But why are you weeping all the time?” I asked.

Alcyone patted my head and exhaled heavily,

“I am the star of suffering, exile and grief. Throughout your incarnation, somewhere deep inside yourself, at the bottom of the Well of the Subconscious, secretly, you’ll mourn something or someone bitterly.”


***
Library of the Universe


“Oddly enough, it’s House No. 12 that will become your pillar of support, since Taurus is an earthly Sign, it gives solid ground under your feet,” the Guardian tried to cheer me up, patting my shoulder with his wing. “You’ll explore everything mystical and mysterious with reason and logic filling with Universal Love.”

“The Master of House No. 12 is Venus, right?”

“Yes. One of the stargazers compared such passport data with ‘a titan that holds the Firmament’. A person feels in a dungeon, the walls of which are impenetrable. Loneliness is an important part of life. According to the Creator’s plan, you need to seclude yourself. What for?”

“Venus managers the 5th House as well. To create?”

“Right. The 12th House in Taurus means hard trials, great sacrifices, financial problems, walking in a vicious circle. An unstable financial situation causes subconscious fear, but there is the possibility of secret income or earnings on something mysterious, mystical, in institutions of a closed type, in emigration.”

“Will I emigrate?”

“Let’s say you can emigrate. The events from childhood will leave an invisible imprint on your entire life. Instead of tenderness and love, there are tangles of snakes of envious people and secret enemies, women and immediate superiors, because of them you can lose your status and career, fall from a height. You are an informal leader, a secret assistant of a status man, his right hand and the second person. You are given the gift of secret power over people in any field. Work and create in solitude, Venus will bring recognition for reclusive work. Make secret donations, help people in secret, put candles in church for the poets of the Silver Age, for example.”

The book about ghosts opened at another story with a strange title, “A Girl named…”.

“Is there something scary in it?” I asked before reading.

“Nothing,” the Guardian smiled.

I read a miniature about a meeting with a stranger who confessed her unwillingness to live because of the impossibility of dying.

“Where are you going now?” I wondered, following her to the corridor.

The girl looked at the door of the dead neighbor’s flat.

“I was there yesterday,” she whispered, “but I forgot to take with me his devoted friend.”


*****A WILL*****

***
Moscow


“I’ve remembered,” I said to Ray as he appeared in the hallway out of the mirror.

“Everything, I hope?” he smiled and kissed my neck.

“No, at what point I erased the memory. You knew the date of your death in advance too, you and I were checking our watches in my kitchen, I remember. Having looked over my entire life ahead, I realized that one shouldn’t know it. Some people would get discouraged, and someone, on the contrary, will decide that everything is fine, so they may relax and do nothing.”

“Not only that,” Ray added. “Possessing one’s passport data, you can kill one. Although you saved some ones.”

“It’s so great to live here and now, to dream of your bright tomorrow, to build pink castles. I wanted to understand how the Clock works. It really worked like clockwork, tick-tock, tick-tock. And I … Ray, I moved the hands on the dial, interfering with the Divine plans.”

“Today in the Court, where you are fundamentally unconscious, the devils have read their charter exactly about that. Anyway, Alice, you are accused of hacking the Matrix,” Ray nodded and asked, “How is the lawyer doing?”

“Believe it or not, I haven’t met him.”

“And where were you?” Ray pretended to be surprised.

“I don’t know. I was beguiled by the devil again, but I had definitely been in that flat during my lifetime! The walls hold memories and I felt them as my own! Now everything is different there, only the walls are the same! Anyhow, there was a grown-up snoring in there!”

“How did you formulate your desire to move in space?”

“I did it correctly!” I exclaimed. “To end up at the physical body of the Boy in the morning, before his soul returned from sleep, to catch the soul and chat! However, I bumped face to face into a girl with the same name as mine!”

“Everything is doubled around you, Alice,” Ray stopped me with a smile and put me right in front of the mirror in the hallway. “When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

“What do you mean?” I looked at my astral body in the mirror.

“Who do you see?” Ray chuckled.

“Are you kidding?! Me and you, of course!”

“Ghosts are not reflected in mirrors. Why do you see us? By the way, you look great,” Ray said slowly drifting to the kitchen. “And what about me? How do you like me?”

I swam into the kitchen following Ray.

“You want me to understand… what?” I asked directly.

“When did you see me alive?” Ray sat down at the kitchen table.

“You were sitting exactly the same way, at this table,” I said sadly, plunging into memories. “I came up to you and…”

“Alice, don’t fall in the Past!” Ray stopped me. “How many years have passed since then?”

“I don’t remember!” I almost screamed. “Many, many years!”

“You are now drawing my astral body, recreating it according to your memories, and you see it exactly as you draw it for yourself. You have just looked at yourself in the mirror, drawing yourself in it, but at the time of your own death, you looked different! Everyone sees your astral body in their own way, as they remembered you during their lifetime, at the time when they communicated with you. The physical body and its visualizations are not the same thing!”

“Are you saying that the adult man was Boy the Lawyer?” I exclaimed with a sudden insight, soaring up to the ceiling. “Did I visualize his soul in the Court at the age when we had crossed paths in life, and his physical body got matured?”

“I’m saying that yesterday you had only 5 nights left before the Full Moon, and one of them went down the drain!”


***
Ouranoupoli


“Happy New Year!” Dimitra sighed as she greeted me.

“No customers?” I asked.

“The ship didn’t come today. They say there are almost no Russian tourists. Every other day is New Year’s Eve. By the way, which New Year do you believe, the ordinary or the Chinese?”

“Solar,” I laughed. “New Year begins on the day of one’s birth, plus/minus 24 hours, when the Sun returns to its original location, where it was at the moment of one’s first breath. The Sun turns on the program for the next year, gives new strength, recharges energetically. Sometimes people die around the date of birth, when the forces of the previous year are running out, and the new Sun hasn’t yet turned on, or the Death program has started. The first 12 days encode the 12 Spheres of Life for the next 12 months.”

“You are a stargazer!” Dimitra laughed. “So has one to make a wish on one’s birthday?”

“First, remember the past year, thank God for everything you were given, for the fact that you are still alive. Then write wishes within the plan for the next period, 12 points, one for each Sphere.”

“If everything is determined by the stars, why write?”

“Each Sphere has several meanings. You can direct the energy in the desired corridor. Although, it’ll be played at the discretion of the Higher Forces. I got creativity instead of the long-awaited love. Apparently, creative people are unlucky with love, since their energy flows into a parallel corridor.”

“Do love and creativity belong to the same Sphere?”

“Yes. The Sphere No. 6 is also interesting, either you plow like an ox, or you get sick. If there is something bad, it’s better to get bad at work, not in health, do you agree?”

“I agree, but is the program really switched in one day?”

“They prepare the ground for the events. I feel a change of scenery in two months.”

“If you feel where the wind is blowing, can you change the program?”

“Yes, if I find myself on my birthday in geographic coordinates where the Heavenly Pattern is different from my own place. Spheres can be reactivated by shifting planets and stars from one to another. You need to know the exact time of your birth and have finances to move.”

“Did you move?”

“Yes, to the monasteries,” I smiled. “Not on purpose, but it turned out that way. However, it’s about nothing to go just any way. You calculate the coordinates you need, then look at what is there. I was taken to monasteries and once to Yelabuga, to the poet of the Silver Age.”

“Wow, you are definitely a mystery to me! You live in a different reality, although you are sitting next to me right now, we speak the same language and walk on the same planet. So can one read one’s life by the stars? Are we programmed for some path we cannot turn aside?”

“I think we are globally in the Matrix, programmed, yes, but there are options. Otherwise there would be no Court, no Ordeals. Why judge a man already doomed at birth to those actions that he should commit? It’s important your reaction to the events. That’s why the church teaches humility. Another question torments me. Does one have the right to change one’s destiny by moving in spaces?”

“Maybe the knowledge and finances for moving are given to those who are allowed to change it.”

“Maybe they are given not by God.”


***
Tower of Ouranoupoli


“Joice, does everyone really see ghosts in one’s own way as imagination?”

“You see some kind of cups on the table now, and I see other ones. We just agreed among ourselves that we are drinking tea. You saw my photos in the museum, and in your visualization I look like myself on that photos. Astral bodies can take any form and image. Astral matter is a ghostly plasticine, from which everyone molds something of their own.”

“So Ray is right, it was the same Boy. I wonder what I was doing in his apartment. Maybe I was consulting about a will… And, imagine, that girl’s name is Alice!”


***
Library of the Universe


“Do you know, Moony, what I want most of all?”

“Of course, I do, since all thoughts are in the public domain here!”

“Yes, Moony! Exactly! To wake up and quickly forget what is happening!”

“You’re incorrigible. By stepping on the same rake, the soul is doomed to walk in a vicious Circle forever.”

The night from the 3rd to the 4th of April

“In the compartment of the Moscow-Pskov train, a man from the top shelf asked, “Are you correcting your poems?” “Yeah.” “The book has already been published, why edit it?” If he knew how many books I have published. The man didn’t let up, kept asking questions, even offered me to recite something. “Wow! With whom we are traveling, with the winner of the “Heritage”! And she came so modestly and lay down quietly!” He got down from the top shelf, took out a suitcase, rustled his packages for a long time and gave me a brownie. I found my verse “A willow branch” (I told him I was going to Valday for Palm Sunday), written to a fellow traveler back in 2010. I tore the verse out of the book (it had edits not inserted into PC, so I could not give the book as a gift), on the back of the sheet there were 2 verses “Sunsets are quiet” and “The Monastery”. I said, “Take at least autographed leaflet for memory.” By nightfall, my head ached. It was very stuffy and the Moon in Eclipse on the 4th.

I got out at the station, found a car with a driver and with music to the fullest, it was Tsoi’s “Blood type on the sleeve”. The road to the monastery was winding in fir trees, everything was covered with snow like at Christmas!

We arrived at the walls of the monastery. Silence, just the clocks – chimes with bells. Nobody. The deep night. It was snowing. The watchman called someone and escorted me inside. Ten minutes later a sullen novice appeared. I handed him the documents and passport. He wrote something down, took the key, threw my rucksack over his shoulder, and we went to the opposite side through the yard. We approached a one-story building. My head was dead. I really wanted to fall down and asleep. He said, “Your room number is …” I was silently following him, not reacting in any way. He suddenly stopped abruptly, blocking my way and looking into my eyes, repeated calmly, distinctly, slowly the number of my room. I didn’t understand, but “OK, yes, my number is that”. The novice chuckled, shook his head, and we moved on. Opening the door to the cell, he stopped once more, looked at the number, and repeated it again. Only the next day I almost jumped, since that was the phone number of the hero of my “Venetian Moon”, that brought me there. The cell was warm and cozy. I should go to the liturgy in the morning at 9. On Saturday and Sunday, breakfasts were combined with lunches, i.e. breakfast and dinner after liturgies. I collapsed into bed, setting my alarm clock for 8:30. My headache went away. As soon as I passed through the monastery walls, I felt completely safe from all the Moons.”


*****The 4th of April*****


“I went to the liturgy in the morning. In the temple, I was pulled to the left, where I stood and sat (you could sit on a bench there), not bothering to turn my head to look at what was on the wall behind my back. The walls and the columns of the temple were painted. Was the Iverskaya (Gatekeeper) icon on right the only one there? A small temple with only monks and novices inside. The liturgies there were not what I got used to. Everything was very intimate. Everyone went to take communion, me too. I was in line, when suddenly a monk came up to me and smiled, ‘What is your name?’ I answered. He nodded and pulled the veil over my head. “How did it get out of my head that I should have confessed at first? Why doesn’t he scold me at all and does forgive sins?”

We went to the dining room. The monks sat separately. We read the prayer. On the table in front of me (I was seated at a separate table), there was a huge plate of buckwheat and a plate of beets. Salt, sugar, honey and tea… The bell sounded. Everyone got up, as much as each had eaten, no more was allowed. As a child, I'd almost lived in the temple. First, I spent the weekend in Maryina Roshcha, where I had been baptized and where my uncle served. Then in Yelokhovo, almost every day, for five years. That refectory transferred me mentally to Maryina Roshcha, where I had breakfast = lunch with the priests after the liturgy and sat next to the head of the temple, who had baptized me. There, in the monastery, I felt at home.

They were to pick me up for an excursion to the bell museum in the town. I regretted it, since I didn’t want to go anywhere, I wanted to stay in those walls all the time like “behind the stone wall”. I went out of the gate and froze. The place where I had been dropped from the taxi at night was a copy of the pier in Venice. The same lanterns, a fence and even boats, turned over, on the left. Wow… being mesmerized, I walked to the water. No water, thank God, just ice.

I turned around and walked towards a separate church shop. A gray-haired monk was going towards me. As he approached me, he suddenly stopped me by the hand. He looked into my eyes, he had such big bright blue eyes, very pure. And he said with a smile, “Rejoice! God has now erased everything in your Subconscious!” These words made me dumbfounded. “What brought you here?” I didn’t go into details, “Tomorrow is my birthday.” He smiled again, “I had a friend, her birthday is also on the 5th of April, but she was born in 1959, and my sister’s is on the 11th of April. Aren’t you cold? If you want, let’s go to the church shop, it’s warm there, let’s talk.” I said that they would come for me soon. And, indeed, several cars appeared in the distance. The monk said, “Yes, that one is yours,” although a lot of cars drove up, and I didn’t know which one came to take me, but the monk guessed it right. “You will be fine now. You are not here by chance,” the monk said and blessed me for the trip.

All day long was very stressful because of my acquaintances who decided to wish me a happy birthday a day earlier! I got tired of explaining that I was not going to die. When Vadim called, I immediately shouted into the phone, “Tomorrow! Tomorrow!” And he said simultaneously all the best that he could wish me, and even offended, added, “Well, if you want, I’ll congratulate you tomorrow too!”

Till the evening liturgy, I wrote a plan for the year. Willows branches were blessed at the liturgy, but they were not for sale there, just brought by monks. After the blessing and anointing, and each person was given a branch as a gift. So, they anointed my forehead (the third eye with a cross), and I thought, the Moon was crossed, sealed and removed of any eclipse.”

After the meal, I went for a walk. The sky was still bright blue, although it was getting dark. There was a huge star shining directly above the pier and not a single one nearby. At first I even thought that this was not a star at all, I photographed it, a huge white spot. “Vega on Pluto,” I joked and wandered to the Venetian pier, over which it had lit up. Vega on Pluto, a very strong star, considered the queen of life, was in my New Solar year. Standing on the pier, I wondered how to play the Venetian scenario there more correctly. Arriving the first night in the monastery I asked the taxi driver if there was a cemetery there. He probably thought I was crazy. He said that he had not heard about the cemetery on the island (the entire island was that monastery, i.e. its walls went along the edge of the island). In the Venetian scenario, there was a cemetery (where the cardboard Moon would be turned on), a pier, a suicide, a cemetery. Pondering, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around.

The same monk approached me, “I felt you were here.” “The star,” I smiled, showing it to him. “Yes, this is your star. But you can’t stay here, on the pier, for a long time, let’s go.” He led me around the monastery wall counterclockwise (the planets move like that) and asked, “What’s uncommon with your voice?” “What do you mean?” “There’s something strongly connected with your voice… Do you sing? No, you sang… But now what are you doing with your voice? You have a special one, not like everyone else!”

I said, “Yes, I sang in the church choir, now I write poetry and recite it.” He smiled and asked to tell about myself. I spoke a little bit about the house on Tverskaya, where I had lived, about my great-grandfather. “What was his name? So you are a noblewoman!” Then about… “What an interesting destiny!” We reached the place where one could see the opposite island, the closed territory of the President (they said he used to fly there by helicopter on the Palm Sunday). The monk told me about the baptismal font. We completed 1/3 of the circle, and he asked, “So what brought you here?” “I’m suicidal.” “What’s the reason?” I said it had been since I was a kid, and when I felt nobody needed me. “And the way?” “A window.”

I didn’t talk about Venice. He said calmly, “You see, those years of yours in the temple were not in vain, you are guarded by Heavens, they lead you. You are not like others, so they fight very hard for you, you should be very careful! It’s good that you came here. Everything will be fine, don’t worry.” We took a few more steps along the wall, and the monk stopped at the fir trees, “Here we have a cemetery.” A shiver struck me, the pier – suicide – cemetery. Counter-clockwise. “There was a hospital here during the war, all were buried here. We erected a common monument to them. Look at the Moon!”

I raised my head. The Moon was right above us and muddy, muddy, just horror! We continued walking counterclockwise along the monastery wall. And the monk said something about me, which made me think it was not the monk talking to me, but God himself. We returned to the pier. He suggested going the same circle backwards, but because of the cold (I had arrived practically in summer shoes), I was no longer able to go anywhere except my cell. The monk escorted me to the entrance of the building. He stood in front of me and, looking into my eyes, said, “Look at the Moon.” I raised my head – the Moon became clean, pure! He blessed me. “Tomorrow you have to take communion again.” I nodded. “Pray for me,” he said and gave his name and held out his hand to me. Usually the priest’s hand was kissed after the blessing. I held out my hand to him and he leaned over and kissed it. “Remember that you are different, a special struggle for you is going on There. But you’ll be fine. Good night”.”


*****The 5th of April*****


“I went to the temple in the morning with a branch of willow. I went to the right, but one of the monks whispered to me, “You must stand where yesterday.” I obediently returned to the place on the left, again not bothering to look at the wall with paintings behind me. Several locals came for confession. After communion, “my” monk handed me over to the guide. She told the history of the monastery, about the Iverskaya icon and the connection of the monastery with the Iviron on Athos, and indeed, scenes from the history of Athos (about Iverskaya icon) were painted on the right wall. Then the guide brought me to “my” place, “There is a new painting on this wall, Patriarch Alexey II, he visited us.” Thus, at the liturgies, right behind me, there was a man who had called me in childhood “my little flower”, and those 5 years in Yelokhovo flashed on my inner screen. There were many photographs with the Patriarch in the museum on the 2nd floor. Then, walking around the temple, she told me about the monastery brothers, monks, novices and laborers. Behind the temple, we stopped in front of … graves. “Our monks are buried here. There are several old graves. And before that, the monks were buried in the catacombs under the temple. You and I are now walking above the cemetery.” There were two deaths in the Solar year – two cemeteries.

I returned to my cell. They sent me text messages. The funniest in the spirit of Pluto was sent by my son, “Happy birthday! If you are destined to go mad, I wish you did it from something very, very pleasant!” There were still a few hours left before switching the Solar on. The Sun in the 6th House (“service and illnesses”) meant either you would serve or you would be sick, at the moment of switching on it must be correctly played along the safe line by working hard (so as not to get sick all year).

I had a blurred line between Houses No. 5 and No. 6 (creativity / love was inextricably linked with work / health), so I sat down and corrected the book of verses until the stars in my eyes. 6 could be also some service, including liturgy, but at the moment the Solar was switched on, the liturgy was about to end. Considering the links of Houses 4-9-12 (leaving for a monastery, another country or Another World), it was better not to experiment, but to go in a proven way – to edit poetry.”


*****The 6th of April*****


“The liturgy was from 7:00 to 11:30. I woke up at 6:00 (they woke me from There before the alarm clock). After the liturgy and the meal, the monk offered to show me their local landmark – a beaver (animal). We walked clockwise from the pier to the laborers, who were sawing the trees after the beaver’s work. I decided to gain strength and tell the monk my dream about Venice, but I asked, “How can one understand visions, from who are they?” The monk said, “This is probably the most difficult question. The moment of deja vu is from God, the checking points have already been written down, your soul has already seen all There and just remembers it here. It’s difficult for us to remember, but sometimes we succeed.”

We reached the laborers. The beaver was gone. The monk showed me his work, “Do you see how qualitatively he works by the Providence of God? He grinds the cut points so smoothly! How does he choose the right trees? The angle of fall is calculated so exactly! Do you understand that he, too, is being led by Heavens, as well as you brought here?” We were standing on the road near the summer camp. The monk gave me a business card with the phone number of the one who ran the children’s camp, “Maybe you’ll come and recite your Orthodox poems to the children. It’s so important for them. Or will you give us your books?” Then he spoke about the connections of everyone and everything, “All is connected with God by threads, all events and destinies are intertwined, each step causes these threads to vibrate, and God controls them all!”

I returned to my cell, took out candies wrapped in Easter pictures and brought at the train station (Venus likes sweets), and went to both cemeteries.

During the evening liturgy, the monk brought me a blessed sack of grain from the altar. “The chief monk gave it to you as a blessing. Keep it at your home. In case, eat a bit in the morning on an empty stomach.”

Then, already about 20:00, I suddenly saw something that was invisible for earthly eyes, although they were open. Everything was in parallel. My parents came out of the altar, stood on the solea and waved their hands at me. I mentally asked, “Come here!” But they shook their heads, as they couldn’t step down into the temple. Then I was transported to the temple of my soul and met Patriarch Alexey II and another person. We passed through the central door to the part of Heaven with the emerald grass growing. The Virgin Mary appeared over the emerald field as Iverskaya icon and asked me questions. I answered. She smiled. They showed me in the Tablets a recording that I had made on 15022015, when Marina (Tsvetaeva) said that I could change something that day, rewrite it.

I returned to the temple. A smiling Marina appeared in front of me. I asked her, “Help me!” She laughed, “That’s all over!” She danced, circling around the temple and saying what I couldn’t write – her private. Then they all disappeared… My forehead (third eye) was anointed again. “Now for sure, that’s all over.” In the evening, after the meal, the monk accompanied me to the cell. “Forgive me if something was wrong.” “Nothing! I felt as at home here!” “Don’t say ‘as’, you are at Mother’s home, and this house is always open for you. You can return to us at any time. Remember what I told about you. Perhaps you will write about us too. Just be careful – editing, 1st proofreading, 2nd proofreading!” He smiled. Where did these words come to him from? The words that sounded at my work every day! “Yes, I’m going to write the ‘Rukh Diary’ next summer, I’ll definitely write about you there!” He blessed me goodbye and kissed my hand.

At 11:15 p.m. a taxi came for me, a different car and a different driver, but still the same music, “Wish me luck in the battle, wish me good luck…”

I told Vadim about Valday, he said, “You’re shifting Consciousness. It leaves us hope that the monks are stronger, and everything is erased There.” If two people have deaths interconnected in the Solar, you can try to break the connection in the spirit of Simoron’s technique. Take a key, any one, carry it with you for a while, imagine that the key is to you know what. Similarly, the second person. Then exchange your keys.”


***
The flat of the Lawyer, Moscow


It was dawning. His soul appeared in the room.

“Alice?” the Boy said in surprise and froze.

“I… died… and I need your help.”

“How can I help you?” sighing heavily, he asked.

“Listen, I don’t remember much. I remember neither your name nor who you are.”

“Wow! And how did you get here?”

“I saw you in the Court. You came with a Woman.”

“Are you not confusing anything?” the Boy was even more surprised.

“No, by the way, she has two faces. Then she was flipping through a photo album in her flat, and said that you were a lawyer. I need your advice.”

“Well, gee! Do you happen to know her name?”

“I asked her, she said ‘Love’.”

“Well,” the Boy chuckled. “I’m sorry, but I’m not a lawyer. You knew it. I have a law degree, but I worked… in other areas, and many years have passed since then. Did you see anyone else in the Court?”

“I saw a lot of people, but I didn’t remember all of them.”

“Well, if I can help you somehow.”

“Until the 40th day, I’ve to do what I didn’t in my lifetime. To write a will or deed of gift.”

“Do you mean your icons?” the Boy asked instantly. “Do you want to bequeath your collection of Athos icons to someone?”

“Do you know about my icons? About Athos?”

“You used to say, ‘My friends are my icons’, ” the Boy smiled.

“Thank you!” I screamed, soaring up to the ceiling with joy. “Lord, Glory to You! Glory to You! For directing me to this Boy! That’s what I forgot! The most important! Yes, of course, I wanted to give away icons! Besides books!”

“What books? Yours?”

“No, mine are long gone. I collected a children’s library with color illustrations. I wanted to donate it to the orphanage, but I didn’t do that in time because my memory was erased.”

“Cool,” the Boy said with even more interest and sighed. “Alice, will you please go down from the ceiling to the floor?”

“So will you help me write a will or deed of gift?” I asked hopefully, descending.

“Do you want me to write it instead of you? The document must be written in your handwriting. Or by a third party through a power of attorney previously certified by a notary. How do you write it yourself?”

“I’ll try. What else can I do? You know, I succeeded with turning on the fireplace and the kettle,” I admitted embarrassed.

“It unlikely will work out with the will,” the Boy sighed. “You have to write it so that it’s considered valid, that is by hand, with your signature, then you have to go to a notary with your passport, to certify it. Do you really remember nothing at all? The current date is put, sealed in an envelope. Besides, if, as you say, your memory was erased, and they knew about it, the document will be invalidated, as not written ‘in a sober mind and sound memory’. Sometimes even certificates from a psychotherapist and narcologist are required. And yet, a full inventory of what you are going to bequeath or donate, the passport details of those to whom, or the details of the company. Do you know the address of the orphanage?”

“You are killing me!” I sighed, clutching my head with my hands in despair. “I’m doomed.”

The alarm clock sounded. The Boy’s soul jerked into his body. The man woke up, turned off the alarm clock. I swam towards the balcony.

“Wait,” came the Boy’s voice.

I turned around. His soul had left his body again.

“I read that book, do you remember?” he asked.

“No,” I shook my head, and… the walls electrocuted me.

“Do you remember why you went down to Hell?” The Boy obviously didn’t say to me everything.

“No,” I shook my head again, and the walls pulled me towards them, and I was already sliding along them, trying to remember what connected me with that place. I began to hear my own voice, there, in the Past … and I saw someone, those faces… and…

“Sorry,” the Boy’s soul whispered and instantly disappeared into the earthly home.