Voice Transmissions With The Deceased
by Friedrich Juergenson

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152 CHAPTER 30

Olga’s song – Constantly new speakers and singers – Kotzik’s Berlin humor – A baffling prophecy

In late spring we began to tidy up our property and stone cottage in Nysund. It was a hard and dirty job. The ceilings and walls were painted, the windows replaced, the old floor was sanded and sealed, and at last we installed a modern water heater, so that our whole family could move in the house by Christmas.

Suddenly I felt sorry to have to leave the quiet cottage, if only because it was located in an out-of-the-way and enchanting location that gave the best conditions for undisturbed work.

The first winter spent out in the country proved to be unusually mild and short. The snow was already melting in February, and the first blue anemones were blooming at the beginning of April. The mild weather lured our friend Hugo, the tomato grower, often out into the country. He began immediately with his usual desire to work, to straighten up the greenhouses, yes, he even sowed salad seeds outside, though the earth was still frozen below.

Since my wife Monika drove the children with our car to school in the city, I would be preparing the meals. To be honest, this occupation was enjoyable, mainly because I never used particular recipes, but rather liked to experiment and combine the ingredients as I pleased. We wandered daily, Hugo and I, through the thick forests that stretched out for miles around Moelnbo, and when we then returned tired and hungry, the meals would taste twice as good.

153 Hugo by the way, was of the opinion that my mental contacts were more important than the recording sessions.

Hugo’s view on life was based on the philosophy of the followers of Buddha and the teaching of Krishnamurti. At the same time however, he followed with lively interest the development of the Soviet Union. He even believed that the great rejuvenation of the “western world” would be realized through the engagement of Slavic people. Hugo didn’t know if the rejuvenation would come through communist ideology or through some still unknown mental and social synthesis. However, he hoped for the quality of all people and the victory of intellectual socialism. Yet in the last couple of years, Hugo had noticeably started to change his way of thinking, which was no doubt thanks to my spiritual experiences. It did leave me sad however, that Hugo showed little interest in my tapes recordings.

Despite all of his intelligence and open-mindedness, Hugo did not grasp the significance of the bridge to the deceased built on the foundations of physical science. The deceased however, often spoke of Hugo on the tapes. A few times they voiced concern about his health. He suffered many times from lumbago, which would bother him tremendously during his gardening work. He defiantly brushed off all symptoms of illness; yes he was tough on himself. In a sense he muted his instinct for his physical needs, and only when the illness forced him into bed he would, while muttering, unwillingly relent.

That spring I received a very curious transmission. I got it in the form of a sort of symbolic presentation that sought to convey a personal message to me through song, short remarks and exclamations.

154 The singing was done by a woman’s very beautiful voice that could have belonged to Grace Moore or Lina Cavallieri. At the end of the transmission, the name of a friend of my sister in her early years who was also a friend of mine was mentioned.

Our friends name was Olga Z., and though she married and later divorced, we still addressed her by her maiden name. I had not seen Olga for 23 years, and all contact was lost since World War Two. By a strange coincidence my sister Elly came upon Olga’s address. The bottom line: Olga visited us in June at Nysund, and when she departed, she took with her my typed manuscript.

Meanwhile new transmissions were coming in. A delightful soprano voice with a soft and warm timbre sang a Hungarian song, which was sung in German, Russian, Swedish and Hungarian. Her singing was accompanied by another woman’s high voice that seemed to be coming from a distance and was also presenting her text in a mix of languages. This woman spoke of Hitler’s activities over there, and clearly mentioned my name and Maelarhoejden. At the end a rather untrained male voice joined in, loudly singing “Babanzef ljubit (loves) very much Maelarhoejden!” and I immediately recognized the voice of a white Russian officer who was married to my cousin in Estonia, and had died as a German officer on the eastern front just before the end of the war.

In June the voice of an old acquaintance became audible on tape. Paul Kotzik, who had been working as a massage therapist in the same sanatorium as my father. I met Kotzik for the last time in 1915. At that time he was treating the wife of Odessa’s governor, which gave him free movement through the city despite the war and the fact that he was a German citizen.

155 Kotzik was an excellent massage therapist, totally healthy, who would go all year around without wearing a hat or coat. He always had a fresh sense of humor, was nice to us children and introduced me to the art of photography. He, by the way, was very successful with women, but preferred to go through life as a bachelor. Kotzik was from Berlin and his sense of humor was typical Berlin, fresh dry and insolent.

After so many years I was hardly able to recognize his voice if it had

not been pointed out to me. Kotzik spoke very clearly with a pure Berlin accent. It was the voice of an older man. Far in the background a violin was playing a curious melancholy melody. Kotzik spoke with intensity, quick and with no pauses. It sounded like he was in a hurry, his voice sounded wistful and sad.

Right at the beginning there was a mechanical male voice audible, which as if through a megaphone said “Hear Kotzik!”

The same megaphone voice turned itself on one more time and said in-between clearly: ”It was Kotzik!”

Kotzik closed his lecture with a loud calling: “Ahh,…now comes the Moelnbo wagon!”

I will make this recording public after an exact analysis and elimination of interferences.

In May I received a short message that I had passed by without understanding its meaning. I would find out only in August. It was the voice of my friend Herbort B. who said quietly but clearly, “Friedrich, so that you know - Serapo!”

The continuation followed after a few days, and it spoken by a different voice. I suspect it belonged to my singing teacher Danni from Milano. 156 The voice revealed a humorous tone and said astonished:” Three pieces in a airplane-mamma mia!” I just shrugged and passed over, what in reality turned out to be an amazing prophecy. But first I have to talk about an event that happened suddenly in July, and that plunged our whole family into deepest grief.