Voice Transmissions With The Deceased

by Friedrich Juergenson

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148 CHAPTER 29

He who is about to die, Dr. Bjorkhem – “Radar music” and signal melodies – The number of personal messages is constantly on the increase.

Day after day I sat in my attic and registered my new recordings. When my wife and children joined me in the country the white narcissus and the meadows were in full bloom. Midsummer was right outside the door. However I still could not decide how to write the introduction for my book. I would have preferred to remain anonymous, but unfortunately that wouldn’t work, because someone would have to answer the questions, which would arise from readers. So with tentative steps and hesitation, I started one day to write my introduction, which I drafted in four versions and discarded again. But finally I had an idea and decided on a fifth version.

One day Dr. Bjorkhem and his wife Eva H. came to visit. Despite the happy reunion I was troubled inside, for I knew that Dr. Bjorkhem’s health was very poor. I played my most recent recordings, among them Hitler’s monologue and a very clear English transmission.

Dr. Bjorkhem possessed an unusual ability to concentrate; he could listen as only a few of my friends. We were a little crowded in the tiny attic, it was a quiet afternoon with sunshine and birds singing.

“You will be achieving completely different results…” Dr. Bjorkhem said before we bid our goodbyes, and his eyes were shining brightly with the excitement of pure research. The truth of his statement would be proved soon.

With the increase of new transmissions my interest and enthusiasm grew literally day-by-day. 149 The connection that had developed between my friends and myself was of such unusual kind despite its clear and undeniable evidentiary character that in reality I never really got used to it and I always found myself anew in a state of wonderment.

The workload frequently threatened to envelop me. I always had to count on surprises and unknown factors, and besides these transmissions were of such iridescent variety that the work never became routine.

Among these daily variations in our contact modes there was one that I found especially pleasant and that brought me much joy. My friends had devoted their special attention to musical transmissions. Not just performances like a solo, ensemble and choir, they formed their messages using “radar-music”, by which the transmissions took on a humorous character. Some singers used specific “signal melodies” chosen to identify themselves, and reflecting their taste and character.

It was in July, when I heard Lena sing for the first time. She sang unaccompanied, free and uninhibited. The song presented a curious combination of Italian opera arias and Neapolitan popular hits. Lena improvised like a child would do at play. Her voice sounded lovely and pure. She sang from what she called a ‘devotion building’ in English, German, Italian and Swedish. From that time on, I could recognize her high timbre effortlessly, even when it appeared in the midst of a choir.

A sonorous male voice, which I had recorded frequently on tape, puzzled me considerably. I was sure that I had heard the voice before, 150 its pronunciation reminded me somehow of Hitler, but the voice level was deeper and the speaker used a cultured High German. It would not have surprised me if the speaker during his time on earth was excellent with speeches, for his diction was flawless. One day I managed to record a longer monologue of his, which again reminded me someway of Hitler’s musings to himself.

Also the “old Jew” and a few other male voices were present and took part in the conversation. The “old Jew” threw in humorous remarks, often with a double meaning and pulled the speaker out of his drowsiness to which he tended to succumb every now and then.

The rest of the conversation seemed like a look into the past. I had the impression that the speaker reached far into antiquity. Pompeii, Plinius, Titus, Olympus were mentioned along with my first name. Despite some atmospherics I could clearly understand the voice.

An instrument like an Hammond organ, played pleasant sounding final chords at the end, and then you can hear Lena say: “Take away!…abort quick!”

It was in this summer that my wife and I received mostly personal messages, among them were some very detailed ones, which for understandable reasons I cannot make public.

I just want to mention this much, these never dealt with detailed guidelines, direct advice or particular admonitions. Our friends understood how to use humor and pictorial language to put our view of problems into a new perspective from which the solution could be found with our own insight and understanding.

151 At this time, July, August and September of 1960, transmissions were flooding in almost daily. I could hardly keep up with the work, for even if the transmissions were no longer than 10 to 15 minutes, the checking of the text and logging it in required much time.

It was through the minute and monotonous testing of details that gave me a profound insight into this timeless plane of existence, whose processes repeatedly surprised and occasionally shocked or appeared strange to me. Only after I trained myself to accept the most curious events without bias, did I succeed to overcome my inhibitions and prejudices.

However, I still had to count on misunderstandings, for there were often atmospheric disturbances, and also some indistinct recordings. But for the most part the bridge was constructed, and I was often able to register clearly audible recordings on my tapes.

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