A meeting
When they met, he spoke first. He was interested in the road to Apsheronsk. He squeaked, and therefore I did not want to talk to him. As a teenager, I wanted to laugh until my stomach cramps. Therefore, the conversation was short. First, he asked if I was local. Satisfied with the answer, he named one place in the forest that everyone knew well. Further, he said that once he had to spend the night in this place in a hut.
By some strange phenomenon, he heard the party, as if she were very close. Names were called, glasses clinked, songs sang. The name of the person was named. It turned out to be a neighbor! But this place was three kilometers from our house. This space was overgrown with forest and was divided by a deep ravine. There were no mountains nearby, that was out of the question. In my opinion, this phenomenon is inexplicable.
With the solution to this phenomenon, the search for the reliability of the text of the Lay was begun. This is how the "ears of the city" should act. In the local history museum of the city of Maykop, the guess was confirmed about the existence of such a structure in those places.
A dilapidated canal connecting settlements deep underground can still be seen in the village of Abadzekhskaya. This means that there was once a tribe engaged in such a craft. Now it is difficult to judge whether it was a humanoid or an ordinary person. But, his words turned out to be reality. If this is a humanoid, then they are very ordinary people with a more perfect body, but with emotions and whims, like ours.
Everything that I have already told you is the reality of meetings with extraordinary people. Meeting at night in '68, I also refer to a meeting with an unusual person not in a dream. Until the 90th year, I believed that in a sleeping state I was taken on a test apparatus from Tashkent to my homeland and back in one night, because I saw an uncovered engine unit.
Already in the 90th year, also not without the help of humanoids, it was possible to understand this more than strange phenomenon. From the 68th year after the first contact (let's say) at home until the 85th year, there were no unusual dreams. To live in the world for half a century is a long time. A lot of hard work went through my hands. Slept without dreams.
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Strange dreams began in 1985. Dreams began with vivid cards of early childhood. It’s like I’m wandering through the Absheron forest in familiar places. At about two months, the dreams were repeated three times. Three times I dream about the same place. Only to this place I approach from different sides. In short, about the same three times. In the next two to three months this is repeated, but with a different content of sleep. Dreams of forests near Absheron in time immemorial.
I visually feel every tree, path, sometimes a color image, some very tall column in a place where I have never been, but I know well where it is. Once I dreamed of a place in the wilderness not far from the village. First, some kind of lecture. Reads a solid male voice. Then exit to the corridor and the courtyard of the educational institution. I remember a small building and a young tree in the yard.
The tree was still in my childhood, but in a rather dilapidated state. The third dream was about the same place, when the building fell into disrepair, but the tree is already more mature. From this time on, I come to the conclusion that someone is directing such dreams. Someone has an interest in my dreams. Only this “someone” seems to be an expression of “evil spirits”.
The meaning of dreams
Be that as it may, from this time on I ceased to be indifferent to my dreams. If he saw something in a dream, he took it for granted and tried to delve into the content. Unfortunately, the society around me is very restrained about such phenomena. So I had to be outwardly withdrawn and in love with my physical work.
Strange thing: fate did not spoil me with a good memory. If you ask me at noon what I had breakfast, I can hardly remember, but I remember dreams clearly, I see them on the screen. If someone speaks, then at first, sometimes, I do not understand anything, but then the image disappears and a brief telepathic presentation of what was said begins.
The dreams are somehow so "mounted" that childhood memories are sure to fit into any of their contents - about an educational institution, about medicine, just about meeting someone, about music. There are no dreams without them. I suppose you shouldn't describe everything in a row. But some of the brightest and most memorable can be illuminated. For example, here is the content of one. I walk in the company of my peers from the village.
The buildings look dim. Further, a narrow path winds through the dense thickets of cultivated grasses. The descent begins along the gentle slope scorched by the sun. Some strange structure is seen from afar. The vision is cut short. The next dream is about a month later.
The same thing is repeated, only I get closer to the strange structure. It is some kind of large gray building, as high as a four-story building. Downstairs on the ground floor is the main entrance. On the upper part of the building, above the entrance in an oval shape, a large image of Jesus Christ also rises from linen. Inside, apparently, levers are built in so that the portrait's head sometimes tilts to the right.
The people on the upper floors are using levers. This understanding is telepathic. When descending the slope, the whole building and Jesus Christ are clearly visible. Jesus bows his head to the right. The hand is majestically pressed to the chest. It turns out something like a gracious invitation of believers to a gray, windowless building by Jesus Christ himself. This ends the vision. Days, say, ten days later, the same dream again.
This time I enter a gray building. The structure of this structure is curious. I understand more telepathically and visibly. No sounds are present. The pillars - thick logs-pillars - are fastened together and reach a height of four floors. There are no walls. Instead, the structure is draped on all sides with linens. The roof also serves as a canvas. The pillar logs are located so that in the very center of the structure there is a large through area. People gather here to watch "miracles" in the choirs.
The space between the canvas wall and the edge of the site is four to five meters. The interfloor floor is also made of logs. On the ground floor, some food is served. Underfoot you can feel the husk of nuts, something else. It looks like a baptism in the faith of Jesus Christ is taking place here in this building.
The structure stands on the shore of either a lake or a river. What is done on the upper floors is clearly visible from below. A well-organized service showcases biblical scenes. The scene on the second floor is best remembered. Here Adam and Eve dance. I feel music telepathically. An old Armenian instrument is playing - a melodic duduk. Apparently, there is an active work on the baptism of believers from other faiths in the faith of Jesus Christ.
Church
In all my life I have never been to a church. I have heard about God only from A. M. Gorky. In my opinion, my emotions should not be here. This place is marked in my memory on the territory of the former village of Komsomolskaya, Belorechensky district. At present, there is a chemical plant for the production of complex fertilizers.
I understand this structure as the expression "In Christ's bosom." Mass reincarnations into another faith took place in temporary temples, apparently similar to the one described here, because there were few real structures for the service of God. The assumption involuntarily suggests itself: could such a memory be preserved somewhere in the depths of my memory?
Forest
Another scene. I walk for a long time along the forest path. I remember all the turns and trees. Then some kind of column in the woods. The next two approaches are from two different sides. I see the same column, only without scaffolding. About two meters in diameter, up to twenty meters high. Some kind of white stone.
I don't even understand the purpose of the column telepathically, but the location can be determined. In a completely different place near our village, the remains of the foundation (foundation) of a similar column have been preserved. Pieces of limestone are visible nearby. Obviously, the remains of a similar column. But this is not a dream. Here, too, is history. It looks like a text. "Words about Igor's regiment".
Another scene. It's in one go. In a place known to me, I see a volumetric log about a meter in diameter. A girl diligently climbs on a log. I understand telepathically that this is my daughter. She is nine years old. The child is very well-fed, strong.
On the girl's body, except for swimming trunks, there is nothing. A log for a girl is a simulator. She climbs it, slides back and climbs again, raising her right leg high. Close-up of the right buttock is shown. Some kind of medical operation was performed on it. Two rings are clearly visible below and above the buttocks.
The rings are as if some rings with a thickness of 0.5 and a diameter of 6 centimeters were implanted under the child's skin. In the middle of the lower ring there is a fresh incision from which small drops of blood protrude. The rings appear to be hollow, under the skin, and represent an artificial extension of the vein.
For some reason, blood from the vein must pass in this ring. This is medicine. I do not understand the ongoing process in the ring. I only know that the purpose of this operation is connected with the longevity of the future woman and as a guarantee against diseases. Perhaps the operation is related to the prevention of AIDS. This sleep phenomenon was in the 86th year.
Another unforgettable experience. I will try to explain it telepathically. It should be noted that in this dream I was already familiar with the signs of this phenomenon. I was already used to it and treated it with curiosity. In a certain place at dusk, a bound arched gate appears. In a split second, the prehistory of the appearance of the gate is recalled.
Behind the long Road from Georgia. A long stay there was accompanied by a triumph of glory for some art. There is a convent outside the gates. In the monastery, as punishment for a trip to Georgia - a wife. She is like a hostage for her husband's illegal acts.
There is a knock on the gate and it opens immediately. The knock has been agreed upon in advance. A few steps from the gate is a dark wooden building. I enter the dark opening of a small door. In the darkness of the corridor I go up to the upper floor and find myself in a lighted room. As a traveler to the past, I was seized with interest. I wanted to see the light source. I looked for candles with my eyes, but there were none. It should be noted that the time of this action coincides with the time of the last days of the life of the author of The Lay of Igor's Campaign - I again feel this telepathically. The walls of the room are bare, I did not have time to see the windows, because my wife immediately appeared nearby. She was also secretly notified of her husband's arrival. Exhausted, he sits down in a large wooden chair next to her.
He puts his hand on the back of the chair and looks faithfully into the eyes. I examine the facial features for a few moments. The woman is not more than forty years old. Strong, well-fed, somewhat plump. The face is round, without wrinkles. There are no other features. Suddenly, a woman dressed as a nun appeared in the doorway.
A black dress, a black scarf on her head, in her hands, which she held below her breast, some kind of bundle, maybe a small book. Age 25-30. An older woman enters next. She is at least forty years old. She is thin, also dressed in monastic clothes. Then another nun enters. She is older than everyone, somewhat higher than everyone else, it is felt that she is also higher in social status than everyone else.
The faces are strict, thin, with pointed, somewhat elongated, but not prominent noses. The head nun stood directly opposite me, the others beside her on either side.
The elder spoke up. She said, sparkle with anger. You could well follow the expression on her face. Thin lips threw out sharp hurtful words. It was like a video without sound. Sometimes she stopped, apparently listened, then spoke again. This dialogue lasted over two minutes. Then all three nuns headed for the exit.
They hide in a dark doorway on the steps of a staircase leading down somewhere. I am heading there too. As soon as the door slammed behind me, there was a kind of numbness.
There was a clear rustling sound, as if a magnetic tape was being rewound somewhere nearby. It did not last long, then a telepathic transcript of the conversation. The entire conversation was not transcribed. Only its main content was recorded.
Question: "Why are you here?"
Answer: "I looked at the grave of a great man."
Question: "Do you have to pay for the examination ?!"
Answer: "Paid".
Sentence: "Then pay more." (An astronomical figure is named.)
Counter question: "Why is it so expensive?"
Answer: "You will see the grave of the greatest man."
It looks like there was a sly joke in the last answer. I had to go and look at my own burial, and the price was the highest: my own life.
These are far from all the dreams-sessions that I have seen. I post the most clear and with the concept of their meaning. At first, in the 85th year, they bothered me, then I got used to it, tried to delve into the meaning of the content. This lasted until the end of 1989.
At this time, I felt a deterioration in my health, and I had one simple operation. The feeling of anxiety did not leave me for two months. During the waiting period, cases of strange dreams with telepathic content intensified.
Perhaps this is due to some relaxation in the body. I again saw my old acquaintances in dreams and realized that everything I saw were not free dreams, but someone programmed, purposeful visions.
So one day in bed at home I saw my old acquaintance from the 68th year. He appeared from somewhere out of a white shroud of snow. Then, in 68, I remembered him sitting next to me. It is, of course, impossible to judge his growth in this position. This time he emerged from a snowdrift to his full height and headed straight for Me.
It was a giant about three meters tall. With his gigantic stature, he represented a thin, like a pole, figure. The arms are long, below the knees. Dressed in a long fur coat hanging below the knees. The fur coat tightly fitted the body. One must imagine his long, thin body and a tight-fitting fur coat - it is edged with a fluffy edging both below and on the sides and at the place of the collar. On the head is a hat with earflaps.
In front, there is a cap in the supra-forehead part with a ridge of the edge, the cap lapel is lowered and covers only the ears. Warm mittens on my hands. The feet were not visible because of the snowdrift. When he approached me, I managed to see the face. The same eyes, nose, chin. There was no doubt about it. It was a nocturnal acquaintance from the 68th year.
Stopping, he furrowed his brows sternly and tried to shoot rays from his eyes on me. Instead, all I heard was the crackle of "Bengal lights" and I was turned over in bed. I woke up.
This time, the contact did not quite work out. Obviously, there were some reasons for this, but the information was pleasant. Here and his growth, and habitat in the snow, and the form of clothing, so. reminiscent of old national Russian clothes, and, finally, the fact that he, too, seems to have recognized me as a friend. It is also important that I myself was looking for him.
Cocoa
Another preoperative memorable meeting in a dream. I knit myself in some darkened room with a low ceiling. Someone telepathically suggests to me: “I am a major cocoa plantation owner. Everyone really likes my products. On a low table in front of me I see a tray, on a tray - a white plate, on a plate - this is the very cocoa.
As I understand it as a liquid drink, here it is presented in the form of our cake, filled with a liquid mass. I feel that it is very tasty, and I am going to eat this fabulous food. Music is suddenly heard. We played somewhere very close. I turn my head and see a small doorway.
I rise from the table and, bending down strongly, go out into the light. Straightening up, I feel the newly abandoned room as a very narrow burrow. I see a musician very close. He plays the violin.
Plays a classic piece. Although I am not very good at music, I understand that Tchaikovsky is being performed. Music in a virtuoso performance, played by the great master. Here Tchaikovsky is in a more perfect performance. The music is unearthly. This is the biggest surprise of all my dreams.
He was a strange musician. He stood on some kind of pedestal. According to earthly concepts, he is at least 90 years old. An elderly fleshy face, a figure of a moderately well-fed man. From the clothes I remember the jacket, casually thrown over the shoulders, unbuttoned. It looks like material made from the leather of some animal.
Under the jacket is a shirt of incomprehensible colors. The collar of a shirt under the chin is kind of like a napkin with curled ends. The trousers are far from the first freshness, wide, not ironed, the legs almost hide the socks of the shoes. The main feature of the musician is that he held the violin bow in his left hand, and not, as is customary, in his right. He smiled, looking somewhere behind me.
I turn around and see a woman of the same age as him. She looks the same as a musician. The same fleshy face, the same rumpled clothes. Apparently the musician's life friend. She expresses the sounding music with diligent movements of her hands and facial expressions. It expresses the way clowns sometimes play pantomimes on our stages.