A Penitence From Skrivnous, the First Tier of Purgatory

Documentary “Is It Easy To Be Young?” 1986, Riga Film Studio. In the center director and cameraman Juris Podnieks

Juris Podnieks (1950-1992), Latvian distinguished cameraman, director and producer, his documentary “Is It Easy to Be Young?” put Podnieks’ name on the map of the International Cinema. 

Tata: I live in Los Angeles. Sometimes mediums meet wonderful spirits in most unexpected ways. It was the end of this April, I washed my dishes and was all set to go for a walk.  Instead I dried my hands and switched on my laptop.  From the world of spirits, it was Juris Podnieks, who got my attention during dish washing, when our heads are “empty,” and not occupied by thoughts and emotions. He was finishing his stay in the first tier of purgatory Skrivnous, and needed to talk about things that may speed up reaching the normal level of the astral world.  The description of Skrivnous can be found in Daniil Andreyev’s book “Roza  Mira,” Eksmo , or in English in Daniel H. Shubin’s translation “Rosa of the World,” A New Translation of Selections from the Russian for the American Readers.   

J.P. – You, Tatyana, as a film critic and the author of “Prisoners of Fame,” you have seen how glory may cripple a person, isn’t it true? Glory had touched me as well, but I was a lucky one. Due to my short life on earth, it did not last for long. Fame unduly corrupts a person. I will give an example. When I was 20 years old and returning from forced military service in the Soviet Army, I found out the director of the Latvian film studio and asked him to lend me an outdated camera and allow me to shoot some episodes for the news programs. Naturally, my modest and polite request was denied. I was upset because I did not realize that by refusing my request, the director had laid the cornerstone of my future success.  That refusal would become the central item in writings that promoted me and my films. Instead of getting angry, I had to water and feed him the rest of my life.

I will miss the details how friends from America sent me a used camera, and how much it was superior than our new cameras. I was lucky. Otherwise, I would climb out years, and here I was –clicking a button on that camera, and footage of perfect beauty started flowing out of it! Then you know what happened next! I became the one who was loved by critics of various small and frail film festivals, I was strewn with insignificant awards, but their number made a difference leading me to the serious festivals with coveted, career making awards. Attention and awards of these festivals created my fast fame.

Soon I learned that I had bad temper. I discovered my ability to brush aside gluey followers, and did not drag, like you, all of them into my future. You, on the contrary, yes, do, because you feel sorry for them. Sitting on your neck energetically, they write monstrous denunciations of you, even those of them whom you, as an alternative healer, dragged literally from the death threshold back into their lives.  And this is true …

J. P. – But the sweet introduction with the art of avoiding the scammers turned out to be only the beginning, the first step on the path to success … Now came the next step – the execution of instructions. And here it all began — the struggle with your own conscience, the effort of quieting the aching voice of conscience in the name of the right to say at least something.

Tata: – What do you think today about this “commodity exchange,” the exchange of a dulled conscience toward “the glory on props”! The conscience is not happy, and the glory on props is not happy either! Maybe it is too much to put it this way?

J.P. – Unfortunately – it is what it is: “the international glory on props”, this expression may well become the title of this publication.

Tata: – Want to talk about the nature of the errands in question?

J.P. –  Let talk! In the USA, I have many friends, and one day they call me to entrap those nice people who sent me an American working camera. Initially, it cost a lot of money, and it was used to shoot only two boring documentaries and after sent to the warehouse for eternal rest. The cameraman was already buying the same brands’ next generation camera. My friends persuaded him to offer me his previous camera for a third of its value.

Again, I’m talking about money, my American friends were doing a lot of charity work, helping filmmakers in need, including arranging screenings for their forgotten but absolutely wonderful works, organizing and publishing articles about them, and I was asked to compromise their flawless names. I was in trouble for a week, but then I found a mendacious bastard who testified that, supposedly, these people were sucking millions out of charity while making comfortable living for themselves. The article said that Rothschilds and Morgans have given millions of dollars for making documentaries. But my friends did not use more than 10 percent for support of film makers, but spent the rest on purchasing and resale for a profit the pleasure yachts … And the mean list of their wrong doings continued. Cinematic public turned away from my former friends.

Then they, the KGB representative, demanded that I would return my “dirty camera” to my friends, which I did not do. And the “disclosure” of my fame appeared in the press immediately after my refusal to return camera.  However, it was already late, and no one noticed this disclosure. But for this deal and for several more such masterpieces of my resourcefulness, I received, as I believed, well-deserved prizes at international film festivals and was accepted into the most sophisticated circles of filmmakers. The same rich people’s money paid for our gatherings, because we were always “short in cash,” and “full” credit cards in our eternal pursuit of the latest equipment. And as a result of the slandering of people who got me on my feet, I was sentenced to 10- years at Skrivnous, in still innocent first tier of purgatory.

Tata: – Did the glory change you, did you notice it? Mostly who make up the contingent of Skrivnous residents? Or what for they get there?

J.P. – Yes, fame changed me, and I was well aware of this. Sitting in the company at any table, I always sat down so as to be the center of attention. And in some incomprehensible way, I always managed to push away all the small stumps, demanded from people whom I needed to deal with my problems firstly and immediately. In fact, I forced them to help me as if putting mentally a sharp kitchen knife straight to their throats.

J.P. – The same thing colored my relationships with women. In the companies, I marked a girl as “mine,” and, somehow, I found myself sitting next to her, or she immediately appeared next to me. Without hesitating, I quickly moved toward the intended goal. And then I learned how to quickly get rid of her.

J.P. – I was not interested in them further, I did not remember and often did not ask for their names, addresses, or telephones, and never gave my phones. And when I came across a stubborn girl who demanded my contact info – for her I had “outdated” business cards with non-working phone numbers, and everything ended smoothly. And it also contributed greatly to my entry into Skrivnous.

Tata: – But did it happen the other way around that you came across beauties capable of captivating you and who were denying you?

J.P. – Of course it did, but I always had so little time that I did not worry about this kind of failure for no longer more than a few minutes, and immediately forgot about it.

……………………………………………………………………………………………… ..

Juris Podnieks Speaks About His Transition To Another World

Juris Podnieks 1950-1992

Tata: – Now we have the year 2019. Therefore, 27 years ago you died on Midsummer Day, June 23, 1992. On that day, without suspecting anything bad, you went to relax with friends, maybe joking, “Let go fishing for some mermaids in Daugava waters!”

What thoughts and feelings flashed through your mind in the last moments of your life, when something fatal happened to scuba equipment or something else?

J.P. – Of course, I had plans for the future. World fame does not last long, and you need to prove again and again that you are a genius, as lovely film criticesses labeled me once, and media had disseminated it over the world. This is a terrible feeling when you suddenly realize that for some reason you have nothing to say. And it seemed to me that the heaven had deserted me. I was full of my false significance and I wanted to wash off all this in our Daugava. A lot of things went through my mind. I was tired of so-called friends. The premonition of death enlivens a strange angel of awareness. Suddenly you become completely indifferent to things that used to be important to you. I remembered that I had read about it somewhere — fame, all sorts of rewards and even love for children and care for their future fades.

J.P. – When I was down at the bottom of Daugava, suddenly some bulbs began to blink, some motors stopped to murmur, the lights went out, and total darkness and silence reigned. I understood that something had happened, but that this was the end, had not yet reached me. I began to look for the alarm wire, but it was not nearby. In the dark, soon I stopped looking for it as I realized that I had no air to breathe. I will skip retelling of the next minutes, when I grabbed for air only! We descended into the water, of course, in different scuba diving equipment, and there was no one to help me.

J.P. – I stopped fighting, and suddenly calmed down. Finally, I had nowhere to hurry. From the bottom of the river they lifted up my corpse. Meanwhile, down there, I stepped out of the tight-fitting hydraulic suit with amazing easiness. I felt freedom that no words can express. I passed into a different state of mind, and to my amazement I realized how small and how wrong, and how insignificant my glory was. But all my feats, on the contrary, suddenly sounded like voices of  Jericho trumpet, they seemed to shout, “You lied, you took a wrong note.”  I realized that there would not be a stricter critic of my works than myself. In my mind, the price of truth has increased of staggering hundred or two hundred times.

But where was I, what happened to me? What happened to my comrades, where is my wife? Who will tell her that tonight I will not come home!

— She has already been told. She cannot understand anything.

The voice was unfamiliar. But the presence of a human who spoke to me, told that I was not alone in this fog that surrounded me.

Of course, my friends returned, as they were supposed to return … without me! My wife survived me only a few months. She died in a car accident. She suffered before her death, I was with her to the end, but she saw me only in the astral plane, and she was very surprised how did I find her.

And then, immediately after the transition, I did not see the light, it was still foggy, as if before sunrise on earth. Here I met my guardian angel and egregore, the witness of my glory, or the parasite birthed by emotions of my followers some place in the 4th dimension. I did not get yet how lucky I was to have such a small and weak reptile as the product of my fame. He quietly disappeared without giving me any worries. My cares began when I was told to appear at an emergency meeting of the Judges to resolve a certain issue. It was then that they announced me a ten-year sentence in Skrivnous.

Tata: – For what? For silence, or for something else? Cheating, betraying friends?

J.P. – You spelled it out for me?

Tata: – Did they show you the photos or videos of your friends’ reaction when they learned how that terrible article about their so-called possessiveness and greed was concocted?

There was no answer to this question.

J. P. — Time passed quickly. I think what to do next. I am drawn to my collection of film cameras. Over the time I have accumulated many of them …

I would like to give away these cameras to the young filmmakers in my country who have never money, and will never have it, if the technology will be updated on monthly bases forever!

Now I know that content is more important than expensive technology, but do young people believe me? Who will believe us? It is time to round up this story. Thank you for listening to my confession.

 Tatyana Elmanovich, medium and alternative healer, certified by James Van Praag’s  School of Mystical Arts.


Impromptu Healing

Healing a Spirit

The healing of the SPIRIT of my paternal grandmother Luba was spectacular thank to participation of powerful but quiet healers and loud camp of former Soviet Hierarchy overlookers . Hard to believe, but they still exist in the astral world. The “supervised” healers were Big Barlaam in astral body, the spirit from the extinct race of Giants. And there was I, the 84-year old woman. Was I still able to heal? By the way, in folklore, legends and myths women with abilities, good wise women or evil witches were oftentimes depicted as elderly ones. So I give it a shot!  And we had a guest, who looked like ancient Egypt demigod, had body of Greece Olympic champ and Roman eagle nose. A simple bandana controlled his shoulder-long black hair.

Before we started the healing, a quiet sound of а distant drummer reached my ear, provoking a lucid dream type vision of a Maui shore. Red sunset was coloring quiet sea water symbolizing The First Chakra world. The quiet drumming continued, and my fingers, hitting the computer desk, tried to catch the rhythm of that inviting drumming. The door into another world was opening.

Suddenness of the Soviet “angel’s” angry voice, “Stop drumming, it interferes with my thinking!” wiped away the vision. As a teen caught by stealing test answers from a source more reliable than pupil’s memory, I stopped. Nevertheless, another vision appeared. In the open doorway between the two worlds, threatening like a footage from Andrey Tarkovsky “Stalker,” stood our Cosmic guest. Now he reminded me an Indian shaman with missing feather stack into his bandana…

Angel continued talking, “In her last incarnation, Luba suffered terrible Parkinson’s disease, Tatyana, you know it. Luba passed the God’s test courageously showing the rare patience of a real warrior, which you, the medium, do not have. Your military incarnations were short and proceeded when you were still in the lower ranks of complete subordination and died early, before living to the true agony of incurable diseases, like now. Your birth in the aristocratic family was given for many reasons, by the way, so it touched both you and your brother, also your father’s brother, Andrei’s children. Do not think that everything was ashes … everything will wake up in the children of Tallinn’s Volodya and in the girls of American Volodya, what will completely separate them from other people, as it has separated you from others.  Medium, I know something about you. We admire your indifference toward awards and titles, but you are lonely.  We found you a husband,” and the “angel” named my future husband’s name.  After healing I asked Barlaam to pass to “angel’ my thank for thinking of me and my request stop meddling with my marriage problems. I would not marry the man, named by him. No more arrangements behind my back!

I have no healing table in my apartment.  We laid Luba’s astral body on my bed covered with a new comforter. Barlaam set five pairs of two vertical hollow trunks with discharge straight into imaginary ground of Mama Earth around former chakra centers. It would lead the cleansing stuff straight into the ground. In this setting the energy would flow in two opposite directions, the red one came from earth and was lifted  up into overflow back like open umbrella. The other flow, the mix of golden and violet energy, flowed from above through the body into distribution device and into earth, being cleansed by layers of ground that worked like filters. They kept the dirt, and let through the cleansed one into energy flow.  It appeared again divided into multiple small jets around the discharge. The flow pressure made these jets turn back through “earth” into air forming another open umbrella laying upside down on floor. Two flows met some place in the middle and “bottled in” Luba’s astral body. The “bottle” revolved increasing its speed. Inside the “bottle” the energy mixture was stirred to look as if it was boiling. Luba’s body was literally washed by this stir of red, violet and golden energy.

My business was to call golden and violet light from the upper layers down to earth. I channeled my sacred prayers, including Our Father in Heaven… I was not behind my computer anymore. My inner self  was some place else that I was not able to describe, I called light, more healing light to cleanse my grandmother.

Barlaam brought transparent red energy from earth and lifted it toward umbrella-like overflow.

And our guest, the cosmic traveler, made the mixture revolve, as in washing machine.  Sometimes he lifted his head and hands and increased the flow of gold and violet energy tenfold…  I knew I had seen him some place, but when and where and what was his name?

Finally, the “washing machine” stopped, as if measured amount of energy, or measured length of time were over.

Without any pause or stopping, I proposed to proceed with attempt to heal the Luba’s  ether field having in mind only one topic – the haughtiness and arrogance of military commanders and aristocrats. Refocusing my eyes, I saw a large field of stoned ground of gray-beige monotonous color. The surface was not flat, it carried configurations of hillocks and a mountain grid of same color.  Now, the three of us Barlaam, the guest and I—we were calling in light above to judge, to measure, to forgive and melt these configurations together with the stony ground.

It took some time, but it started to melt the gray-beige stony ether field, the cause of Parkinson and other chronic illnesses. On places of hillocks and mountains the boulders and stones exploded flowing upward into light, as it has been described by Vadim Zeland in his books about transferring, and mine unpublished cases of cleansing my dump  around my “beautiful soul”! It seemed that heaven took in it all, but still, some “bouquets” of slivers and rubble fell back on ether field – as if reminding that no cleansing, neither during stay on earth, nor during life in the astral world was final! In material world, and in spiritual world alike, we manage to produce new dirt on daily bases. Who would argue with this? As above, so it is below, how long it takes to  mess up a day ago cleaned apartment.

Luba’s appearance changed under our very eyes. Her husband, my grandfather Grigori kneeled next to her, kissed her hands and mumbled, “You are so beautiful, how I deserve this!”

Luba was shocked, “I need to be alone and stomach it all. Tatyana , I thank you later. Gregori and I, we will walk home.”

When the healers were done, the “angel” had chance to teach some more how to organize the proper healing without endangering outlookers with flow of stones from heaven onto their heads. Finally, I interrupt him in order to thank our guest for participation. He looked into my eyes, and touching the desk, repeated the dram’s beat that I heard at the beginning of this healing.

“Call me Tam-Tam, if you like!” – was his answer.

And I recalled where we had met. It was a year ago, when I worked on “Meditation in Memory of Grandmother Luba,” and Tam-Tam, talking to Yogananda, the Indian guru, offered me a miraculous time-travel session through granny’s relevant past incarnations as a war leader in various cultures, eon after eon, until we landed in America facing a fence adored with bloody scalps. It was the spot, where   Luba asked, if she was done with her male incarnations. Her guides agreed, and she moved to her next circle of female  lives revealing only in rare cases the manner of commanding not used to arguing or disobedience.

After my memorable speedy fly into Luba’s past incarnations, I asked her, if she recognized these incarnations, or they were play of my imagination?

Granny did not question any of it. She confirmed, “I know, my problems come mostly from my male incarnations. Yes,I was a warrior repeatedly.. I prefer not to dwell in these lifetimes again.”








The Sirotin Brothers in Spirit

Lost on the Crossroads of History

This is a story about  the extraordinaire power of the negative thought forms that may create most dramatic family events through generations.  Say, one such significant event happened in year 1918 near St. Petersburg when my grandmother was raped and murdered by Kronstadt navy. In two decades later, this fatal event echoed in destiny of Anna’s two sons, Victor and Erast, who perished faraway in a Siberian Gulag.

… Up to present days, speaking about Soviet mass deportations of average citizens to  Gulags, Estonian call them “free trips to Siberia.” The Sirotin brothers, White Army officers,  lived at that time in Estonia.  And despite being Russians, they were taken tо this “free trip” on the very first day when Baltic states were occupied by The Red Army in 1940. The Stalin’s “falcons,” the spies trained to infiltrate life at West by all means, including homosexual relationships, probably, obtained the list of members in Tartu White Officers Club long before the annexation of Baltic States occurred.

In Siberia, they were sent to different Gulags, but brother’s managed to reunite only to be killed in the strangest accident thinkable. An unexperienced inmate, a Tadzhik national, who did not speak a word in Russian, and therefore, could not be instructed or stopped, started a root bulldozer and this behemoth moved both brothers who were resting nearby in high grass during their lunch break. Was this double death orchestrated by destiny, or a meaningless accident?

In 2015, about 75 years after their transition, Viktor and Erast, now in spirit, showed up in my California apartment asking for a healing and advice how to learn some English. Sensing that they were interested more in talking, we reduced healing to a shower of the golden light. In some 30 minutes the brothers reported experiencing lightness, and it meant that they were ready for a talk.

Affable Viktor asked some questions how such kind of healing works and recalled suddenly that once I asked about times, when Yudenich’s army was treacherously disarmed by Estonians, and the victorious general, according to the records of his successes in WWI battles, was arrested.  “Moving toward Petrograd, we were sure of victory, but Trotsky emerged as devil out of the sniffing box, out from nowhere on our way. No one ever heard his name, and we were taken by surprise and secrecy. We were not ready to meet him. Later, we learned that Stalin murdered Trotsky somewhere abroad. Trotsky gave him a victory over the White Army under Petrograd, and claimed, as it should, the position of the leader of the nation. They called it a position of the First Secretary of their party, or some committee, I am not sure that I remember their political titles.

“Trotsky began to drive us back and we found ourselves again at Narva, the Estonian border town. A fast train covered the distance between Petrograd and Narva too soon to learn what had happened meanwhile in Estonia. When train stopped at Narva railway station, we were met by Estonians armed to the teeth. We took them for friends, and did not throw up our rifles, and instead of hugs, we were showered by bullets! Our losses were big, we had to fight embracing the enemy’s bayonets. Nevertheless, we killed and dispersed them despite the deception and betrayal. The wartime betrayal is a terrible thing.

“I cannot stand Estonians ever since, and as I heard, Estonians cannot stand us after Stalin’s betrayal, when “the father of all nations” ordered mass deportation of Estonians. to Gulags.”

The free trip to Siberia was granted to intelligentsia charged with cosmopolitism (what it is, really, who knows? I did not know what it is! — T.E.) and to farmers who were suspected in resistance to collectivization of the Estonian farming. In brief, Estonian farmers who  did not want to join kolkhozes and give up their lands and horses and cows and lambs that they had taken good care of during centuries on stony shores of the Baltic Sea were doomed to deportation leaving behind whatever they had. The mass arrests were supposed to brake the nation people’s  resistance. Arrested people were put in the the cattle wagons on very long trips in trains that crossed the flat part of the Russia, then entered the Asian part covered with Taiga thick forests, forests and forests that could swallow an uncountable number of prisoners and return home only very few ones. But in year 1918 Baltic people got a short break enjoying 20 years of independent existence.  Victor and Erast happened to be the involuntary witnesses how this coveted independence was achieved.

“In independent Estonia, we lived in Tartu in poor conditions. Erast and I, we worked for Estonians in their construction business. We were trusted only with manual jobs, as your father was. We knew that he dug marsh near Paide for drying turf pellets. Our manual jobs did not turn us and Estonians into friends, and your father was not happy with his manual job either. They treated us like Americans treated their black slaves, it was all the same slavery everywhere. Estonians did not let us to fight Trotsky forces that would stop Bolsheviks, and Bolsheviks turned Communists paid them with mass deportation to Siberia. Such was the small tragedy that took place on the railroad between Narva and Petrograd in times, when the fate of small and large nations was decided!
I wanted you to know how it really was.”

“You ask, how did happen that the sons of a Russian priest attended the school of cadets, designed for nobility’s posterity to become officers. Our father was a soldier who became officer for his military merits. When we grow up to go to school, father wrote a letter to the Excellency Nikolai the Second, and we were accepted into the cadet’s school for our father’s military achievements, as he distinguished himself in the Caucasus. No one knows if his stories contained exaggerations or not. Maybe he spoke the truth after all, because if he would lie, no one would accept us as the cadets. You are right, in his soul, our father was a warrior, not a priest, a smart man who was left without any education whatsoever, so, growing up in monastery, the only thing he learned was to play a role of a priest and make it a source of his income. Warrior and priest can hardly become friends, and this conflict, I think, was the root of his alcoholism. He was a reveler and alcoholic and at the same time a lost clever man. We became Cadets, and after school, we were sent straight to the front line of WW I.”


“You also asked about our life in the Siberian labor camp. I tell you one thing. After my Estonian experience, for me and Erast, there were no difference between our Estonian life with being doomed to the manual jobs, similar to manual jobs in the Gulag! We understand that getting a better job in future, we have to learn English, but how?”

What could I tell them? Many and many generation of immigrants has proven that the most prolific way of learning a spoken language is casting himself or herself into the environment where no one speaks a single word of your mother tongue, and the miracle happens, the foreign language will open up to you, it will embrace you and, suddenly, you start understand it.  Thinking about Victor’s story how Yudenich was betrayed,  I found оn Internet an article “Nikolai Yudenich” written by a professional historians.

It contained the listing of Yudenich’s victorious battles on the WWI fronts, the base of his reputation as a distinguished war commander. The same article included the description of the disarmament of the North West Army and arrest of Yudenich by Estonians when was time to fight Bolshevik’s upheaval in Petrograd (St. Petersburg)  This article confirmed the “ghost story” told by Viktor and Erast, the testimony of the participants of the Yudenich’s army last battle during the Russian Civil War. Estonians fought for their independence by all means, and it included the betrayal of Yudenich’s White North Western army. It helped considerably Trotsky to take the power from The Provisional Government and turning it to Bolsheviks.

Estonian independence, received in 1919 for switching sides, would last, as already mentioned, two decades and in year 1940, all three Baltic states would be annexed by Stalin, in other words, swallowed back into merciless and always hungry guts of the Stalinist Russia. Estonia independence will be restored as part of collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991.

Wikipeda had also another article “North Western Army” about the same Russian Civil War episode written from the Estonian point of view.  According to this article, the Estonian “switch of mind” from supporters of the White Army to supporters of the Trotsky came from the political views of Alexander Kolchak, the leader of Russia at a time. Kolchak refused to consider autonomy for ethnic minorities. In other words, Trotsky was more flexible than Kolchak, and he recognized the autonomy of ethnic minority that sought freedom from tsarist Russia considered to be the Imperial prison for multitude of nations all around the skirt of that giant country.

For explanation of the disarmament of the North Western Army at the most critical moment of the fight against Bolshevism, this article said only a couple of words: Yudenich’s army “was finally disbanded.” For more details, the academic authors of this article send readers to Trotsky’s archive, pointing at the real force that granted them their swift independence!

Soon we, Viktor and Erast met again, and I asked how it happened that the Sirotin’s family left their mother Anna behind, fleeing to Estonia when the Reds terrorized the Russian Church? Of course, no one could foresee the size and cruelty of Bolsheviks war against their own church. Probably father Mikhail wanted to shield his already elderly and fragile wife from dangers of the boat trip across the stormy lake Peipus to Estonia where no one was waiting them with open arms. Viktor told that at first, he did not get what was happening.

“Father said that we will return in three days and our mother will wait for us at home with the hot samovar, and we will have tea together, and mother will bring jam preserves from the storeroom… We believed him, we sailed in boat crossing Chudskoye or Peipus, in Estonian, the natural border between the Russia and Estonia. I was with the fisherman Vasya on the oars. I was already strong and agile, and by the today’s standards, I would fit to be a member of some hockey team. Thank God, today I’m not attracted to football or hockey, but to something else, like healing animals. I’ll try to find out what is wrong with your cat’s kidneys.”

“Thank you! I will be grateful! When did you realize that there was no return home, and your mother was left alone home, and she could be exposed to mortal danger.”

“I understood it soon. I can see when my father was telling a lie. I began to jerk him, asking when we go for our mother back to Russia? He did not answer, and then, suddenly, he shouted ‘Let it go, it’s not your business!’ I wanted to sail back alone. But I did not have the spirit to act, and I still cannot forgive myself for it.”

“How did you learn the truth?”

“As a member of the White Officers’ Club I visited it quite often. Over there, a person whispered in my ear the terrible truth and introduced me to his friend who had arrived from Russia shortly. We met in the same officers’ club, and he shared everything he knew — the names of many murdered people, including the names of our mother and the widow of neighboring priest’s, whom my mother was friends with, and whom she had visited the day, when they both were murdered.

“This officer who brought this terrible news took my word that I would not say anything to my sisters. I gave my word. I learned the whole truth from him, to the last details. And he said that everything is being recorded… and our tears will be avenged. Were they avenged? I knew what had happened to Kronstadt sailors and how they fled after their failed uprising. Estonians did not take in a single man of them. Finland did, they sent them to North to do timber, where these bastards were fed and paid for their work.

“Za upokoj dushi, a burial sermon “for soul’s peace” was ordered in a local Russian church in Estonia. I asked my father to cross the lake one more time and bury our mother according to our custom. But he doubted that we, or someone else would find her body in that mess? I think that at that time he was right. How would we find her there? We raised the cross in the cemetery near the place where we lived in Estonia. Of course, father was right, who would know where the rapist threw her body? People were shaking from terror.”

“All this horror was returning to me in my nightmares,” Victor continued. “I hated myself for obeying the fool and failing to go for my mother’s body alone. I did not have money, fishermen of the Old Believers in Estonia were the ones who crossed in boats that sometimes stormy Peipus, and, of course, they asked a pay for this two-way trip and I did not have any money at a time.

“We arrived as beggars, my father fled in terror. At home, in Russia, he has told us such wonderful tales of his courage, but when it got to the point, he turned to be a coward. Now I see that he is not a spiritual person, all his priesthood thing was a sham only!

“You know that in year 1940, the Reds arrested us immediately after their arrival to Estonia. They had to have the list of the members of the White Guard Club handy. Traitors were everywhere. Our Club’s charter recognized the Russian Tsar, the authority of his government, and everything that Reds fight to change. The Reds sent to Gulags all white officers to the last member of Tartu White Officers Club. The Reds had to have the membership list long before occupation of Estonia, they knew where to find us, they get us where Erast and I were painting a new apartment… The Reds get us at the very first hour of marching into Tartu in 1940. Instead of going home to change our working clothing, we were guided straight to the Tartu Railway station where a train was waiting us and our “free trip” to Siberia began.

“How you got in your psychic vision how we died?” – Viktor asked me. “You saw that we were laying in the tall grass to rest during our brief lunchtime. The sun was shining straight into the eyes of the motorist who was moving the bulldozer, sun was blindingly bright, and he did not see us.

“I even smelled that thick grass, but it can be my imagination.” – I added. “The grass was high, straight and very thick.”

“Yes, once, the grain seed bags were hidden there probably by farmers in the War Communism time, when all the wheat was appropriated by government in the name to “feed the hungry.”  The seeds were sprouting every year making their way to the light. Finally, wheat grew wild and then it was overgrown with wood, and we sat there during the lunch breaks. On that fatal day we fell asleep and did not feel a thing.

“Only suddenly I woke up screaming, “Erast, Erast,” and his face was cold, and the next instant I was gone as well.

“We met later, already in disembodied state, in the astral bodies. We got used to the fact that sometimes you fly and swim and you can move around in space, and your thoughts, and imagination create things, happenings and situations. Talk to Erast, he does not know you, but he can tell a lot.”

ErastErast’s voice was softer and quieter. “This is true. In Gulags, we found each other and reunited as the saying goes, only to die together! But in astral world, we began to look for each other, because, at first, it was very lonely here. You do not understand at once what is going on and, like on earth, maybe more openly, some strangers try to take advantage of your hesitations. Good that we were immediately dragged to the Palace of Justice, and as you did, they questioned me about life in Gulag. They asked humorously, whether we liked that life and laughed… Yes, I forgot to say that I found Viktor, and they let us through the judges on the same day.

“The judgement court passed quickly, because what demands they could make on us? We judged ourselves for leaving our mother in Russia alone to meet her terrible destiny. Was the unwilling murderer an Uzbek or Georgian, or some other national? At a time, we did not distinguish them, we had never heard about, say, Tajikistan. But there we were, all in the same Siberian camp, created by Bolsheviks and their brainchild, the Communist Party, and Felix Dzerzhinsky, the executioner of the Red Terror, the red hell to us all. Here, on the Astral Plane, on the contrary, we learned that each nation has its own “heaven,” in other words, here we have right to be different from others.

“As you also asked about our life in the Siberian labor camp, I would like to confirm that after our Estonian experience of manual jobs, we were well prepared to face Taiga logging operations. But it was not logging that killed us in Gulag, it was our consciousness regarding our mother’s destiny. It was our painful sense of guilt that did us in.

“Finally, we met our mother in our Russian heaven. We kind of made up, but I know she did not forgive neither me, nor Viktor. I know, we’ll still ask for her forgiveness, because we loved her very much. I know, she will forgive us, because we purged our souls to the extent that we went through the same thing, we died the same way, as she did being raped and murdered by Kronstadt matrosnya — navy! It had bonded us, maybe for eons!”