“I want to tell you about my meeting with Wolf Messing. It happened in 1972. The day was warm and sunny. At about two o'clock in the afternoon, I got on bus number 7 to get to the old city hospital. I looked around the salon, looking for an empty seat closer to the front door, so that it was easier to get out. I looked, the seats in front were all occupied, and only opposite the back door, the seat closest to the aisle was empty. I sat down. The doors closed. The bus started to move. Everything seems to be in order, everything is fine, but for absolutely no reason I suddenly had a slight excitement, and then a voice rang out in my head: "I am Messing … I am Messing … I am Messing … I am Messing …" - very periodically and monotonously. This has never happened to me!
What is it? Who is it? Where does it leave from? Examining the salon, looking for a source. My attention was drawn to a man in a black hat, sitting obliquely from me, with his back to me. It seemed to me that it came from him, although there were other men in the cabin. And I thought then: "Is it really him?" - And immediately in my head: "Yes, it's me!"
"Incredible, I'm talking to him!" - And a storm of joyful emotions seized me. And immediately afterwards in my head flashed: "Maybe it's not him?" But still the same voice said: “No, it's me! Good day". I immediately to him: "Good afternoon!" He told me: "Do you mind talking while we are driving?" Me: "No, I don't mind, I love to talk, especially with a person like you."
The bus pulled up at a stop. I thought, “I wonder where it comes out? Will he go here or will he go further? " And then I hear an instant reaction to my thoughts: “No, no, not here. I have to get off at the next one. " I turn to him: “Are you really the same famous Wolf Messing, I just can't believe it. You have never even looked back and looked where I am sitting, with whom you are talking … "He:" Yes, I do not know you, but I know where you are sitting, I know who you are, although we are strangers. You are a very kind and intelligent person, and I am pleased to communicate with you. But unfortunately, time flies fast and I have to get out. So goodbye."
Again I think: “My God! Is he really coming out now? And I still don't know if it is him or not. He never once turned around and looked at me! Maybe I'm wrong? And all this is just a game of my imagination? Now, if he definitely gets off at this stop, then all this is true. " And then I hear: “Well, I have to go. Here is my stop. Goodbye again. It was a pleasure talking to you."
The man in the black hat, who seemed to be just dozing and from whom I kept my eyes, trying to discern even the slightest signs of participation in the conversation, got up and … went to the door! The bus stopped. The doors swung open … The man began to leave and suddenly, already at the very door, he turned around, looked directly at me, smiled, slightly raised his hat, as if saying goodbye to me, and left. He had a cane in his hands, he limped slightly, falling on his right leg, but walked quickly.
In the same 1972 my friend, the Palekh artist Valentin Vasilyevich Zaitsev, met him. Messing came into contact with him in the same way as with me: "I am Messing … I am Messing …" I wonder how many such telepathic sessions he had? What is their meaning, how did he select candidates for communication? I would like to find an answer to these questions. But - alas!"
Vera Kropotova
Promotional video:
Based on materials from the newspaper "Secret Power"