Voice Transmissions With The Deceased

by Friedrich Juergenson

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206 CHAPTER 41

Nysund becomes a kind of pigeon cove - A voice from the car radio - Lena sends us to bed - The unknown Hilda warns us and gives advice

What happened afterwards was unavoidable. Out of the depth of the unknown something new had forced its way through, tough and determined. Something had been born, grew and unfolded and could no longer be ignored.

What concerned me personally was that my situation had changed overnight. Even though certain rationalistic, doctrinaire circles resist admitting the existence of the hereafter or of a higher dimension, they could no longer deny the phenomenon as such and besides since the broadcasting experts had excluded trickery and fraud, the question of my reliability was no longer raised by anyone. It was precisely this circumstance that lent the entire experience strength and conviction.

However, it was the end of my peace and quiet. It started by me being inundated with letters. Journalists, broadcasting people, sound experts and scientists of all kind contacted me almost daily. The telephone had suddenly turned into a kind of domestic tyrant.

In those days I experienced for the first time the elastic, almost metaphysical fabric out of which time is fashioned. It simply didn’t suffice for me. Hours and days raced past feverishly. No matter how much I tried to apportion the hours of each day rationally, I simply was unable to stick to my plans. Everything around me had changed. Whereas previously I had been in touch with well-known personalities and interesting people as a singer and painter, my contacts had always involved the arts, directly or indirectly. 207 But the situation had now changed completely. Death, one way or another, now had affected most people that came to see me.

Since death seeks its tribute without regard to social position, race, age or gender it came about that I came in contact with essentially different types of individuals and became aware of the most astonishing and often gripping turns of fate.

From now on it was the dead who had suddenly placed me into the role of a confidant, a highly delicate and responsible task, that I would not have been able to discharge properly without the help of my unseen friends.

I can only try to summarize the numerous happenings that now rapidly succeeded one another.

But before I turn to these sometimes-telegraphic summary reports, I want to describe a couple of recordings whose substance, clarity and presentation imbued them with exceptional validity.

As the reader might recall, the Jewish song “Nagila Hava” was offered in four versions with its text changed every time. When I recorded the song for the third time, it turned out to be a very clear and in part even very loud recording. I discovered that two of my dead friends had appeared simultaneously. They were Arne Falck who talked about the fate of a singer and provided additional comments concerning him, and the singer was my Russian friend Gleb Bojevsky, a former navy officer, who had been displaced to Palestine by the Russian revolution.

Bojevsky was a generous, cultivated and very versatile human being who was constantly surrounded by a crowd of young people, all of them very poor. Sometimes they excavated a Phoenician gravesite, at other times they built boats and sailed to Cyprus to fish for mackerel. 208 Despite their serious deprivations, that spirit of adventure and enterprise, which made their humble existence seem abundant and livable, was alive in all of them, including Bojevsky.

Bojevsky died in 1945 from pneumonia. And now he sang cheerfully and Falck commented his song extensively. It was clear from the text that Falck knew of Bojevsky’s fate. This time Falck spoke mainly Swedish but interspersed some German and Russian words here and there. Bojevsky on the other hand sang alternately in German, Russian, Italian, Swedish and Arabic. He improvised freely in the form of a poem.

At first he brought details concerning an acquaintance who had died recently in Stockholm. Afterwards he mentioned the significance of the contacts, called my family name and twice repeated the words: “We are riding…Friedel is looking for us!”

In translation the text of his song sounded as follows: “When desired…polyglot. Hello, Juergenson…it’s true, the Yogi listens…melody seven...Bojevsky is Moelnbo’s spook…Friedel searches for the bridge of death that is feared…no, no…all will be pleasantly surprised. Touch me…a Brahman with a water pipe…a watermelon is examined in the market all examine the heart in Moelnbo…” and some more.

It should be mentioned that his remark “Brahman with a water pipe” refers to himself in a previous life in India. The “examining of a melon” refers to joint experiences in Palestine where we squeezed watermelons to determine whether they were ripe. In this case it was meant to infer that those on the other side were examining my heart for its maturity. 209 A female voice with a Russian accent now interjected: “Bojevsky…Juergenson”.

In the summer of 1963 my wife, my son and I traveled to Italy. We visited Enzo and Gioconda in Serapo when the following happened;

One evening Giocondo, Enzo and I were driving along the Quai of Gaeta. Enzo was driving and had turned on the radio. After the news there came a short pause when a female voice called out suddenly and intensively: “Friedel, Friedel, tomorrow!”

Gioconda tuned to us excitedly: “Did you hear, they called Friedel!”

Enzo almost ran into a street post from sheer excitement. Fortunately he could hit the brake at the last moment and managed to bring the car to a stop though on a slant. We were very excited. It was the first time I was called over a car radio.

The next evening we met at Enzo and Gioconda. Enzo brought out an old tape recorder and a fairly dilapidated transistor radio. Since he was unable to connect the tape recorder to the radio, we recorded via the microphone.

Outside the weather was oppressive and I had a headache. Even though I busily turned the tuning knob. It didn’t take long for Lena’s high voice to appear: “Go to bed? Go to bed! It’s too late!” she said in Italian and in German.

We all hear this sentence on replaying the recording and there followed a loud and agitated discussion in Italian. We didn’t get to do any further recordings, the radio began to crackle with terribly loud static.
After an hour we had a huge thunderstorm. It became pitch dark, lighting and thunder crashed continuously. I was seized with the 210 question whether Lena already knew about tomorrow’s thunderstorm yesterday when she called out “Friedel, Friedel, tomorrow!”

Despite the brevity and curious character of this recording it brought Enzo and Gioconda clear evidence and their interest was aroused.

When I returned to Nysund from Italy at the beginning of September, I turned on the radio the same afternoon. I immediately got into contact with Lena and there followed three completely different transmissions of which two were made by a male and one by a female voice. They were of a purely personal nature. The most interesting and curious feature of these transmissions was the fact that they differed completely not only in substance but in loudness and sound quality. During the first transmission there were no disturbances of any kind. Even though the sound was fairly low, one could hear the entire text without any problem and also recognize the voice of the speaker.

In the second transmission the voice pushed through a saxophone solo and then spoke later but only during pauses in the music. After the end of the musical selection the voice switched on immediately and one could understand every word despite the atmospheric interference.

The third transmission was a direct hit. Even though in the beginning one heard music and extra voices, and the female voice started to speak softly, not a single word was lost because the voice utilized the pauses cleverly. This transmission not only exceeded all the previous ones up to that time as concerns loudness and clarity, but the voice of the female speaker was filled with such an intensive emotion that you were unintentionally gripped and occasionally had cold shivers run along your spine.

It was a kind of high-pitched singsong that started in the piano, and the female voice sounded as if it was coming from a great distance. Then the voice came closer and closer until it gradually increased to a fortissimo.

211 But something in this shuffling crescendo implied a hidden glow of compelling intensity. This message too was directed to me personally. It represented a warning and a counsel. The woman recited in five languages that she alternated rhythmically. Her pronunciation was correct, but she joined the words ungrammatically. She did this intentionally in order to eliminate in advance the suspicion that it was a normal radio broadcast. Here are a few excerpts translated from the original languages:

Listen, my god, (German) thanks (Swedish). Message the dead, message, my go, Hilda if she is talking (Mixture of German and Swedish) if you are talking, people will hear (Swedish), many people (mixture of Swedish and Estonian), dropping deep out (mixture of Swedish and English), Friedrich Kontakta (Swedish), dead people in atmosphere...and they speak!…welcome…Friedel from Serapo…(mixture of Swedish and German).

Up until today I do not know who Hilda might be. At any rate she warned me of bad people and counseled me at the same time to take up contact with the dead because they can talk and give advice. I have been able to convince myself of the correctness of her warning in reading this original transmission, one has to note that the ungrammatical way of speaking is intended to sharply differentiate these transmissions from conventional radio broadcasts. Please also note the rhythm in the alternation of the languages. The last three words, “Friedel from Serapo” refer to the fact that my return flight from Serapo had just arrived that day.

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