It is known that some of people can perceive the frequencies of another world and then they have the opportunity to receive invaluable information from representatives of other worlds and civilizations. These people are called contactees. Their main difference from the so-called mediums is that this information is transmitted to the contactee with a clearly expressed purpose - to convey to the consciousness of people the fact that life after life does not stop, it really exists.
Contactees typically write the information they receive on a piece of paper. At the same time, the writing technique itself is different from the usual one. During contact, the contactee does not write individual letters and words himself, but the otherworldly mind uses his mind and hand to write the transmitted information. This method is called the automatic writing method.
Popular literature describes many cases of contacts with people who have left the physical plane. For example, a father comes to one of his sons some time after his death and informs him of an unknown second will, which is found in the place indicated by him.
Usually, these are the people they represent, since in most cases they provide evidence and examples that are known only to them and their interlocutors.
In our time, this method has become widespread for receiving information.
Here is the information received through contact by Sir Oliver Lodge from his departed son, Raymond. This contact lasted for several months at the end of 1915. This is how Raymond described the place where he found himself after his departure. This is a kind of transshipment center where people undergo adaptation before leaving for their destination.
Before the start of contact, Raymond cited some facts as evidence that it was he. He talked about some family matters, pets, habits, i.e. reported what only he could know. This method is often used for this kind of contact. Thus, you can check whether the person is actually transmitting the information.
So, told by him:
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“The first person who met me here was my grandfather. The rest of the people looked like ordinary people of flesh and blood, so it's hard to believe that I am in another world. I live in a brick house with trees and flowers around. Here night does not replace day as in earthly life. I still want to understand how everything around me is arranged, what it consists of. Sometimes it seems to me that it is the thoughts of each of us that create everything around us. However, there is more to this.
While I was getting used to and adapting, I was allowed to wear my earthly clothes. I have almost the same body as before. I pinch him at times, but I don't feel pain. And I am somehow freer in my movements.
I got a new tooth instead of the one that was out of order. I previously knew one person who lost his hand. Now he has a new hand.
I do not think that men and women are in exactly the same relationship as in earthly life, but they seem to have the same feelings for each other, they are expressed in a slightly different way. It seems that children are not born here at all. To have children, people must return either to Earth or to their homeland. (That is, the Earth is not the homeland of man. Author's note)
I no longer feel like eating, but some still want to. They need to be given something to eat, which has the same appearance as earthly food. The other day a guy appeared here who would like to smoke a cigarette. But they gave him something like a cigar. He smoked four at once. Now he no longer looks at them.
As soon as people appear here after leaving the physical world, they want many things that they are used to before leaving. Some, for example, want meat, others - strong drinks. But this will soon pass, since they do not find the same pleasure in all this. I can see the sun and stars, but I do not feel warm or cold. This does not mean that the sun has stopped heating. I just don't have a body that needs warmth.
I so want to encourage people to boldly await a new life, which they all will definitely enter, and so that they understand that this is a reasonable life.
Will it seem selfish to you if I say that I would not want to go back? I would never want to part with my new life."
At the end of his book Raymond, Sir Oliver Lodge addresses all those who have been bereaved. “You may ask me if I recommend to all bereaved people to connect with their departed loved ones? Definitely not recommended. I advise you to simply understand and realize that their lost loved ones continue to live active, useful, interesting and happy lives, that they are now in a sense more alive than before. All people should come to the decision to live their own lives, benefitting on Earth until that time, until they reunite with people dear to them in another world."
Here is another example that proves with a high degree of reliability that there is contact with other worlds and civilizations.
1917, March 19 - Mrs. Hugh Talbot, widow, attends a session with the contactee Mrs. Gladys Leonard. The information to the contactee from the “other side” was transmitted by a woman who called herself Feda. Mrs Talbot said:
“Feda very accurately described the appearance of my husband, and then he himself began to speak through her, and the conversation with him was extremely unusual. Every now and then he clearly tried to convince me again and again that it was really him. As our conversation went on, I had to admit that, of course, he was. Everything he said, or, more precisely, what Feda said for him, was clear and understandable.
Cases from the past, known only to the two of us, personal belongings, trivial in themselves, but of particular interest to him, which I knew about - all this was described in the smallest detail: he asked about some things if I had them still.
Again and again he asked me if I believed that I was talking to him. I was told that death is not death at all, that life does not stop, although it is somewhat different from ours, and that, as it seems to my husband, he has not changed at all …
Suddenly Feda began diligently describing a book. She said that the book was bound in dark leather, she even tried to indicate its size. "It's not really a book, there is no printed text in it, but handwritten notes."
It took a long time before I was finally able to remember one book for my husband's notes, which he called the "ship's log." I asked, "Is this book bound in red leather?" There was a pause. Perhaps, he replied, but it seems to him that the book is darker. Then Feda spoke up: “He's not sure if this is page 12 or 13, it's been so long, but he wants you to look for one entry in this book. He wants to know if it still contains the passage that interests him."
I had no particular desire to do this, it seemed to me aimless. I remembered this book well, looked through it more than once to decide whether to keep it. In addition to what related to the ships and business activities of my husband, as far as I remember, there were a few more notes and some poems. But the main reason why I did not want to talk about this book was the belief that I could no longer find it: I either threw it away, or put it away along with many other unnecessary things in a distant pantry, where it would hardly be possible to find it …
The Feda, however, became more and more insistent: “He does not vouch for the color of the binding, he does not remember. There are two books that are similar, but you can recognize the one he has in mind by the linguistic chart at the beginning … Look at page 12 or 13. If this rewritten passage is there, he will be very curious about it after this conversation. He wants you to do it, he wants you to promise him."
On the evening of the same day, after dinner, my niece, who paid more attention to this request than my sister or myself, persuaded me to immediately search for this book. I went to the bookcase and after a while I found on the top shelf two old note books that belonged to my husband, which I had never looked into.
One of them, with a tattered black leather cover, was similar in size to the one I was told about, and I absentmindedly opened it, still trying to remember whether or not I had thrown away the right book. And suddenly, to my surprise, my eyes fell on the heading: "Table of Semitic and Syrian-Arabic languages." So here it is, the linguistic table!"
Mrs. Talbot found page 13 and there she saw an excerpt from the book "Post Mortem" written by an anonymous author and published by Blackwood, written in her husband's hand (during his lifetime):
“From a whisper, from curious and sympathetic looks, which, it was supposed, I could not hear and see, I realized that I was dying … Soon my mind began to live not only in the expectation of happiness that was supposed to come to me, but happiness that I actually began to feel.
I saw the long-forgotten images of my peers in games, schoolmates, friends of my youth and old age, who, as one, smiled at me. They smiled not with compassion, which I felt I no longer needed, but with the kindness with which people smile at each other when they are mutually happy. I saw my mother, father, sisters - everyone I went through.
They did not speak to me, but somehow conveyed to me their unchanging and unchanged affection for me. When they appeared, I tried to understand the state of my body, that is, I tensed, trying to connect my soul with the body that was lying on the bed in my house … the attempt failed. I died.
Isn't it a story stunning in its expressiveness and ending? Is this story another proof that there is life after life?
O. Kazatsky, M. Yeritsyan