Бесплатный фрагмент - Wish of Wishes

Instead of a Preface

A Note to the Reader

This book is written as a work of fiction, yet it does not exist for reading alone.

What lies before you is an investigation — not of a crime, but of a desire. Of that very desire which a person rarely articulates aloud and often conceals even from themselves, yet which quietly shapes the course of their life.

The narrative unfolds in such a way that memories from different periods of the heroine’s life gradually assemble like fragments of a mosaic. What at first appears accidental slowly reveals an inner coherence. The story moves not only through external events, but through attention, recognition, and the acceptance of responsibility.

Although Wish of Wishes. Forbidden Memories is a work of fiction, in its conception it belongs to the classical tradition of the novel of formation. Understanding here does not arise from direct instruction, but from following the story — through inner resonance rather than persuasion.

For those who wish to go further, the book includes a concluding section in which the principles embedded in the narrative are articulated more directly. These texts do not replace the story nor diminish its artistic nature — they complete the inquiry begun within it. Together, the narrative and the reflections form an integrated structure that the reader may relate to their own life — should they choose to do so.

There are no calls to belief in this book. Everything spoken of here is grounded in observation.

The title refers to what is named in the text as the “Wish of Wishes” — the fundamental longing of the soul, often hidden, sometimes forgotten, yet decisive. Encountering it is not always simple. Clarifying it is transformative.

This book does not promise miracles. It offers attention.

Everything else remains with the reader.

Part I. “I’ll Be Back” Saga “Tornerò”

The Reanimation of Desire

The innermost desire and the

purpose of life coincide.

It is a process. Do not rush.

Every “little thing” matters.

“For love, we have to fight to the end.”

A Brief Prehistory

The dazzling sun floods the seaside town with sparkling gold, and even behind my dark glasses I squint.

The clock reads 11:24.

It is early July.

It’s hot outside — especially since I’m wearing brown corduroy jeans (the fine corduroy ribs are marred by a tiny snag — I almost ripped them) and a fitted brown T-shirt.

“Tule siia!” — the excited voices of children playing in the yard echo in the air.

And a soft breeze bends the lush, satin grass, brushes lightly against my face, and gently eases the heat. There’s a light taste of sea salt with a hint of iodine on my tongue.

I start searching in my bag for a hair clip to tie up my long, sunlit hair that falls below my waist — my neck is already damp with warmth. I can’t find it, and I leave everything as it is.

I try to keep to the shade of the linden trees, heavy with fragrant honey-colored blossoms, and move confidently toward the town center along a hedge of wild roses, glowing with lush scarlet blooms…

Although for an eighteen-year-old girl who arrived at the resort only yesterday, it would have made far more sense to walk in the opposite direction — toward the sea.

Today is the first day of my long-awaited vacation.

Yesterday doesn’t count, because yesterday my mother and I had just arrived from Moscow, and we had to find a room to live in. It was not so easy in the high season, but although not on the first try, we were lucky.

We ran into Maria a little confused from surprise, on a light-filled staircase, blown by a draft from the wide-open windows, in the entrance of a house chosen as if at random (but, of course, fate was leading us), and asked if she was renting out a room by chance.

It seemed to me that she had wanted it for a long time, but still couldn’t decide (including because she was waiting from day to day for her son, who was serving in the army, to arrive on short leave), and then everything just came together :). At that moment, everybody were happy — my mother, Maria, and me.

In the evening, despite the fatigue accumulated during the day, I ran to the luxuriateing in the rays of the bronze sunset blue Baltic Sea, which I have adored since childhood, and admired its bronze sunset.

I felt this sea as native. And it met me with a gentle, warm breeze, brackish air, and the carefree cries of seagulls playing near the water. There was a sense of calm, but also a premonition of the events of a new day mysteriously emerging somewhere in the depths of the sea.

And this morning, freshness reigned in me and in everything that surrounded me. An awareness of the events already waiting at the threshold of my life was the first thing I felt upon waking. I quickly cleaned myself up and ran outside.

In the shade at the entrance, I was doused with an invigorating gust of cool wind. I had to remove the hair from my eyes and from my carefully painted eyelashes, acting carefully so as not to smear the fragrant, juicy cherry gloss from my lips.

Silky emerald grass. Bottomless blue sky. Snow-white clouds are overhead. The cheery chirping of birds seems to foretell something.

It is strange that I remember the events of that day in such great detail.

I turned the corner of the house and found myself on a deeply warmed-up street named “May 9” with rare passing cars. I wanted to visit places in my beloved town that were familiar from childhood.

I walked, almost dancing, lit by the sun as if by stage lights, wrapped in a soft, honeyed haze of my favorite fragrance, “Papillon.”. In my soul — and drifting out of open windows — the gentle melody of “Donna mia” sounded. It was the time of the “Italians,” the 1980s.

I had probably managed no more than twenty steps without incident when a truck of a typical Soviet make, with a light blue cab and a rattling wooden bed, drove past me at a slow speed and stopped a little ahead.

A young man with curly chestnut hair leaned out of the truck. He was wearing light blue jeans and a matching blue T-shirt, and he asked me something in Estonian — a language I, as usual, did not understand, which I told him.

He immediately switched to Russian, introduced himself, and asked what I was doing that evening.

In those few moments, something deep inside me stirred and trembled.

That blue — my favorite color — and those blue eyes with their mesmerizing glimmer, as if they reflected the silver light of restless sea waves (his eyes seemed extraordinary to me compared to mine — gray-green-blue, flecked with brown), and that warmth, as if from a long-familiar kindred soul, though outwardly a stranger…

Perhaps a young man wouldn’t normally dress all in blue, to avoid unnecessary assumptions, if only…

If only that color did not suit him so perfectly.

Or… if it were not a sign and he needed to be dressed that way…

All these thoughts flashed through my mind on a subconscious level. Outwardly, I only asked, “So… what do people do here?”

And we agreed to meet that evening, to look into that question more closely…

In fact, I was genuinely glad about this meeting. It seems that this was exactly what I had been subconsciously waiting for.

What I did NOT expect at all were the fateful events that were to follow.

1.1. Misunderstanding

Yesterday, my teacher made it even more clear that I was mistaken.

The three negative weeks are coming to an end.

Without a protective covering, the cosmic energy strikes with astonishing precision — right at the most painful point — and I feel irritated almost constantly.

“Why?!” bursts out of me. “You don’t know anything!”

“You said,” comes the reply.

I am grateful, but…

My story cannot be described in just “two words.”

Behind the outwardly ordinary events visible on the surface, there is an iceberg: my life, which suddenly turned into a mystical detective story when I finally allowed myself to release the brakes, to feel, to remember, and to analyze.

1.2. What led me to investigate

When my son turned ten, I was convinced that I would not live much longer — there seemed to be no reason to.

The maternal instinct that had driven me all those years was telling me something simple: now he could already live without me.

Death began to attract me.

A priest I knew once said, “Do not think about death, or it will pull you in like a swamp.”

Those are golden words. In reality, it is not death itself that can attract, but only the illusions and fantasies associated with it.

1.3. Healing of the Past

Hmm… and I shifted.

At that time, I was receiving a higher theological education.

And a new joy came into my life with the birth of my daughter.

The shadow of death receded.

Maternal instinct awakened again with renewed strength. Sleepless nights, caring for the children; then new acquaintances — the fairytale Alpine castle above Lake Léman was mesmerizing — new ideas and inspiration.

During our informal gatherings among conference participants, I often heard the words “healing of the past,” “repentance,” “reconciliation.”

Apparently, that was the first time it truly reached me.

We thought a great deal about the past.

I listened to the stories of people from different parts of the world, saw their tears, and gradually began to realize that I would never be able to share my own life story with them — though perhaps, by bringing their experiences to the surface, these people were finding relief… How sad that I could not do the same, I thought… It was too painful, too personal.

However, my acquaintance with Leif Hovelsen — a living legend, a Norwegian hero who had lived through the war and a Nazi concentration camp and had forgiven his executioner… Perhaps I, too, would be able to forgive.

I tried, but the pain and the unanswered misunderstanding remained.

Life went on, and now my daughter is ten years old.

I felt exhausted, drained.

At some point, I realized that I was in a crisis — and I wanted nothing at all.

Such an unpleasant feeling — as if there were no future…

1.4. Crisis

The worst thing is to want nothing at all — because that is the end.

Is that really me?

I remember myself in my youth — full of plans and hopes, the future literally pulsating inside me.

But… no, I cannot think about that. I cannot allow myself to remember.

I cannot allow myself to take even a small step toward those reservoirs of memory — otherwise, I will drown in this ocean of pain…

But really, what could be worse than what already is?

My current state is unbearable.

1.5. Ban

Well, let them judge me…

It’s strange — it feels as though there is some kind of inner ban within me.

Not mine. Or not only mine.

It seems that my own ban is simply the fear of inner pain when turning to the past.

But is there something — or someone — else?..

For a moment, my aunt’s face rises before my eyes with a belittling expression. I trusted her with the secrets of my youth — she presses her lips together disdainfully, making it clear that I stand at the very edge beyond which lies indelible disgrace, and that, in her opinion, my behavior is altogether abnormal.

There is still some kind of obstacle — a certain emptiness — holding me back away from specifics, from finally discovering the truth about what happened, whatever it may be.

And at last, I step over all of it.

So that’s what it is — I really do have one desire. As impossible as it may sound, I want the person whom I had grown used to thinking had betrayed me many years ago to be with me.

I don’t know in what capacity — but he has to be in my life.

And all this, while understanding that, on the one hand, it is savagery, and on the other — pure absurdity.

Strangely enough, this admission to myself brings me relief.

And I take another step, overcoming these bans — I try to look at the fatal, tragic, and, in my view, shameful events of the distant past from the height of my accumulated life experience.

Well then… the man whose gaze still pierces straight through me whenever I allow his image to come alive again in memory… the man with whom words were unnecessary, because the magnetic attraction between us created a field where thoughts and feelings flowed between us on their own, no matter how far apart we were, as though we were inseparably connected parts of a single whole… this man, who seemed to do everything possible for us to be together, simply disappeared. And it is strange and illogical.

1.6. 30 years

Then, many years ago, in the fall of 1984, when he left and stopped communicating, my aunt kept telling me: if he needs you, he will come himself — you should have your maiden pride.

And I was so stupid and gullible that I couldn’t quite pinpoint the thought that was quietly stirring somewhere in the back of my mind: “What if he can’t?”

My attempt to go there and sort things out myself was subtly nipped in the bud when I was almost on the train.

A young man in pure Russian (without any hint of an Estonian accent) told me in a friendly, serene voice over the phone that he was Rein’s friend, that Rein was still in the hospital in another city, in Tartu, but would be home very soon.

I only had the weekend for this trip to Estonia — I had to be back at work on Monday. And I did not know where to look for Rein in another town. The friendly voice of the “friend” calmed me down, and I decided that it would be wiser to wait a little longer since, in general, everything seemed to be alright. Of course, my aunt knew about the planned trip.

But these two letters from Rein postmarked in Tartu, which he sent me from that very hospital two weeks after leaving… Two letters, each filling four densely written pages — and the text made no sense.

At the time, I simply didn’t understand anything. Now I think that a person could have written such a letter either under the influence of drugs or a very strong sedative, or he had lost his mind.

Or… this was how he tried to convey something he couldn’t say directly. For the first time in many years, I felt the urge to reread those letters.

So how can I get answers?

2. The era called “the Internet”

Now we are in the 21st century, and we live differently — on the Internet. And in 1984—who could have imagined such a course of events?

And here I am looking at a modern photo, bearing Rein’s full name in a Baltic newspaper. And again, it feels strange to me. I feel a sharp sense of rejection. Instinctively, I know that I do not want to have anything to do with this person.

Then what is the problem? Why do I close the page on my laptop — and before my inner gaze, entirely different eyes appear — tearing at my soul, drawing me in, calling me?

2.1. Oddities and inconsistencies

“When you start an investigation, you need to be able to work from details that don’t add up.”

I take out a photo of Rein at the age of 20 from a hiding place.

I don’t understand why my heart aches so much. Huge eyes, filled with pain, hope, longing, reproach, mystery — and purity. This photo seems to burn in my hands; the face radiates energy, as if trying to speak to me. This photo of a young man in a soldier’s uniform feels somehow piercingly intimate.

Is it really just the mark of time? Well, he got older, got fat, in general, changed…

Well then, even if I did not receive an answer back then… But once in a quarter of a century, I still had a fairly good chance of getting one.

I received a reply through social media about a week later:

“Hello, Natasha,” the text in Latin letters under the username Rein read (original spelling preserved), “of course, you shouldn’t apologize; it was all my fault, and although so much time has passed, I’m glad that at least today I can ask your forgiveness. Back then, I simply did not have the courage for it, and it seems to me that after the army I lost the right attitude toward life in general, including any sense of responsibility. Once again, please forgive me. Everything is fine with me too. Three children, and it seems I may soon become a grandfather :-). Rein.” Well, I received another dose of pain.

After some time, when the pain had subsided a little, I was able to analyze again. The information in the letter was just as strange as the modern photo on the Internet.

I remember an anxious night many years ago in the fall of 1983, when we were still together. Rein was very late; I was worried. And then there was a knock on the door. Something is wrong with Rein; he’s full of adrenaline and not feeling well.

From his incoherent words, I understand that there had been a fight; several men had been blocking his way, trying to keep him from getting to me. Then, in the bathroom, he spits out two knocked-out teeth, along with blood. In principle, he could have avoided losing his teeth in a fight and simply gone home. But he goes to me. And now this man explains his disappearance as a lack of courage and responsibility…

2.2. Arrest..?

I remember saying goodbye at the Leningradsky railway station in Moscow — that was the last time I saw Rein.. I had a bad feeling that something was going wrong. And it seemed like it was just a celebration — Rein had been discharged from the army early, he was to undergo treatment at home, after that we would get married, and the separation would be behind us.

But just then, at the ticket office for military personnel, they refused to sell Rein a ticket, explaining that there was a problem with his documents. At that moment Rein froze and, his face suddenly changed, said that this meant… arrest.

It was Saturday evening — there was no one to turn to for help, and Monday was the deadline for reporting to the military office in Estonia. We bought him a regular ticket, and he left. I never saw him again…

We agreed that Rein would call me in the morning from the station in Tallinn, and the call came with some delay.

The phone wouldn’t connect. It would start ringing frantically, then cut off. And I couldn’t pick up the phone in time.

And finally: “I got there!!!” I suddenly heard an unnaturally excited shout on the line, and the connection was cut off…

It was strange — and that’s why it stayed with me. Then I thought, “Why is he so worried, since everything seemed to be fine?…”

Of course, I tried to ask clarifying questions through the same social networks, but there was no answer. Nevertheless, these attempts were not futile. Addressing this person, I experienced strange sensations — as if inside his visible physical shell there was no soul of Rein — the one I knew.

If, for example, he, God forbid, died, I would come to his grave and speak to his soul. That way we could communicate… But you are alive — and inside you, there is no YOU… I did not understand this.

These were my first glimpses of insight. Although I was still very far from understanding what had actually happened. For now, my investigation was at a standstill. But I knew for sure that I should no longer ignore and freeze my feelings and thoughts about what had happened.

3. Mysticism and memory

3.1. Miracle Book: Make your wish come true in 40 days

“Dear Lord,” I prayed, “I need help!”

Soon, in search of a solution to my problem, I came across a mention of a book by an American author I trusted — about how to perform a miracle in 40 days.

Well, 40 days are not decades. Besides, it’s simple — it’s just gratitude. For both the bad and the good — but the bad comes first. It might seem like some kind of nonsense, but the author showed very clearly and inspiredly from her own experience how it works.

I translated the book in writing. In accordance with the author’s recommendation, I clearly defined my desire. I wrote it down on a separate piece of paper: « I want to know exactly what really happened to Rein and why he disappeared,” and immediately began to practice the miracle exercise described in the book.

About 20 days passed. I was in a store looking at an intricate decoration when suddenly my heart surprised me.

Probably, in medical language, it would be called arrhythmia. And in the language of love, my heart suddenly beat out some intricate rhythm and, at the same time, sang some sweet melody, as if trying to convey to me an encrypted message in Morse code.

And a day later, I suddenly began to notice that something supernatural was happening to me and around me.

In my news feed, the computer suddenly began to show me messages, not in the way it usually did. On the screen, I saw things that were too intimate, things that no one except Rein and me knew about. As if my news feed was being controlled from the outside.

I still didn’t realize what was happening. But suddenly I caught myself reading the information from the computer and asking Rein a question out loud: “But if you were recruited, why did you agree?!” And right then, in my head — as a thought — I heard Rein’s clear answer: “But I didn’t agree!”

“Then who’s the button?!”

The answer came instantly and in duet: my amazement at the sudden guess “Me???!!!” and his firm, unambiguous “You!!”

At that moment I realized that our common resonant magnetic field, which once connected us and then disappeared, seemingly irrevocably, was now between us again, and we could communicate again.

For the first time in many years, I felt alive; I felt smells, some barely perceptible vibrations of light and shadow, sounds, colors, barely perceptible waves of energy that I had not noticed for so long, and the whole world came to life.

I felt Rein’s powerful, energetic presence. It seemed that he had very little time and had a PLAN. Our communication was almost non-stop, and when it was briefly interrupted, I became very afraid because I was afraid of losing him again. It was also important for me to maintain a sober mind, because what was happening was a miracle.

Rein was constantly leading me somewhere forward to some goal known only to him. Everything that came to hand was put to use. Sounds outside the window, days of week, dates and holidays, and, of course, the news feed.

3.2. Mystique and memory

The feast of Saints Peter and Fevronia was approaching.

My news feed persistently reminded me of this. And Rein seemed to be waiting for something from me.

“Do you remember…?”

It’s so strange; I had never remembered this before, but Rein told me the story of Peter and Fevronia’s lives at the very beginning of our acquaintance. How could he have known about them in those atheistic Soviet times…?

Widespread recognition as patrons of family and marriage came to Peter and Fevronia, canonized in 1547, relatively recently — in the 1990s. And in 2022, a decree was signed establishing July 8 (the day of remembrance of Peter and Fevronia) as the Day of Family, Love, and Fidelity.

Word of mouth has long revered Peter and Fevronia as intercessors for the common people and associate their return with the onset of the “Golden Age”.

I reread their life story online, and the associations brought back new memories. Their story reminded me, on the one hand, of an intricate thriller, and on the other hand, of a patchwork quilt, since the events described there seem fantastic and somehow illogically connected to one another (see Annex 1, “The Tale of Peter and Fevronia of Murom”).

I remembered that Rein had more than once shown the connection between the intricate events that happened to us and the events of their lives — not directly, but it seemed to be read between the lines.

One day, Rein returned after a fight; he was spattered with blood and soon began to complain of pain in his leg from his wounds… It got to the point where it became difficult for him to walk. And one day, Rein asked me to smear his wounds with my saliva. After that, he recovered.

Having fished this coincidence out of my memory, I was perplexed for some time. Rein never gave direct answers, apparently preferring that I draw my own conclusions.

3.3. A necklace of seeds — and beads and lace

After that, I began to notice that the same picture kept appearing in my news feed — a necklace of seeds — and beads and lace. And another — a yin-yang symbol: the male and female principles, separated by a black belt.

Rein urged me to be careful. From our conversations, it was clear that he could not return because he was not free, and there was some kind of threat.

A necklace of seeds — and beads and lace …

Again and again, this picture. What’s so special about it? I’ve definitely come across this before.

“Remember,” I hear Rein say, “you must remember something now.”

Yes, I remembered that I was holding in my hands a disgusting homemade necklace made of seeds cheap red beads in a small transparent bag, and a piece of white lace wrapped in paper. What is this? This is some kind of gift…

Oh, yes, it was my ex-husband’s mother who had given me this strange set for our wedding anniversary. And she explained it as a folk tradition — when I asked her in amazement, “What is this?”

But what does this mean?

“What else do you remember?” Rein asks insistently.

3.4. Vladimir: meeting beyond the bridge

I understand that I not only saw these objects, but that someone had said these words in my presence: “a necklace of seeds — and beads and lace.” I seem to see something… Yes, there are several young men — it seems I am surrounded.

Oh. This is an unpleasant situation. Now I know for sure that I am in Pärnu; only a few days have passed since Rein and I met. Rein was at work, and I decided to take a walk to the store, which was popularly called “beyond the bridge.” And this is what came of it.

I felt strange at the time — inhibited, as if under hypnosis; I felt uneasy, and I wanted to leave. The young man who was dominating the group introduced himself first, without waiting for an answer from me to his question about my name.

It turned out that his name was Vladimir. He asked me what his name meant to me. It seemed he managed to get me talking a little.

“It’s made up of two words — ‘to possess’ and ‘the world,’” he said. “The Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God, the city of Vladimir, my father’s name is Vladimir” — it turned out that I remembered this dialogue very well. “A person with such a name is bound to own something,” he continued. “Think about it; your father is bound to possess something.”

I was not sure about my father’s possessions. The question seemed rhetorical at the time, although I realized that it contained a hint of something large-scale in the future. And Vladimir asked me again to tell him my name. I thought the situation was unfolding quite peacefully and gave him my name.

“Phoenix,” Vladimir immediately said, “Moscow? An English special school.” I shuddered:

“Have we met?” The first word sounded almost like my last name, and I had graduated from an English special school — a Soviet school with advanced English instruction — a year earlier. And yes, I’m from Moscow. It soon became clear that Vladimir and his company were from Leningrad.

And now I have a note in my hand with his phone number and an invitation to spend the evening together.

What happened next was a surprise, because suddenly Rein appeared behind me. He pulled me out of the circle and stood there, clearly weighing his options if things didn’t go peacefully. The situation was tense for a moment. But everything was resolved quickly and easily.

At that moment, when I found myself near Rein, Vladimir, letting me go, said after me, “And a necklace of seeds — and beads and lace …”, as if hinting at something in the past and a possible continuation in the future.

And so we parted. Rein looked at the note in my hands, said “throw it away,” and that he needed to go to work, and left on a bus that seemed to fly up to the stop in an instant.

I remember that I was sitting by the phone that day, looking at the note with the number Vladimir had left for me. I had a free evening. I probably would have decided to call, but the invitation included a proposal to meet in the evening at the apartment of practically strangers.

Caution took over. And I didn’t want to take the initiative in such matters.

***

Neither at that moment nor many years later did I suspect that I had created with my own hands the very first brick in the wall of division and sharpened the axe of war with catastrophic consequences. I realized this only at the very end of my “internal” investigation.

3.5. “Deutschland 83”

And now August has arrived. They say that today is the time to gather the fruits of the deeds done over the past year. The energy of the Universe has changed, and I feel a kind of relief. Energy waves bringing comfort envelope me. And I don’t want to hurry. I try to simply be, to feel, and to catch hints of positive changes from the cosmos.

A little something happened this morning. Suddenly I realized that this plot, which is now unfolding in the series “Deutschland 83,” is familiar to me. Rein told me this story, but I do not remember in what context and why.

A young man from East Germany is serving in the army; he has a girlfriend and a mother in fragile health. His life and future are simple and clear: to complete his service, get married, work, raise children. And then, almost in an instant, he finds himself a spy at military headquarters in West Germany. And not of his own will at all.

According to his legend, his biography is flawless. And there is only one “but” — he should be able to play the piano, but he can’t. And so before sending him on a mission, the Stasi breaks his fingers.

And this is also about what can happen to a spy’s family and loved ones if he refuses to comply…

4. Prophecies by the Sea

Many years ago, Rein and I met the day after the incident with Vladimir.

We walked barefoot along the warm white sand by the sea; the wind blew through our hair. The song I liked at the time, “Words Don’t Come Easy,” was playing on the radio. The sea air tickled at the nostrils, the dazzling bright blue sky, white cumulus clouds rushing overhead.

“What does this cloud remind you of?” Rein asks. A real winged serpent…

We were still under the impression of the incident that happened yesterday, and Rein said that Vladimir had a black belt (Rein himself was seriously involved in karate).

Then he fell silent, took my hand, lightly touched the back of my wrist with his lips, and said that he loved me. I was silent. Events were moving too fast. I lacked life experience. Rein did not demand a reaction or an answer from me.

Instead, he suddenly began to tell me about a book that, as I understood, would be written sometime in the future. And in this book, the events take place in the city of Phoenix in Arizona, which, translated from a Native American language, means “a small stream that gives birth to silver.” And the main character is a girl whose lover had to leave her so that she wouldn’t get hurt. The heroine’s friend Jessica was also there.

And Rein believed that this book would somehow be useful to me in the future, just like the song “Flightless Bird” from the film of the same name, “Twilight.” He asked me how to translate the phrase “American mouth.” And I answered — literally “американский рот” (amerikanskiy rot), as pronounced in Russian — which sounds strange. He said that his last name also contains this root “Rot” ( from the German word for “red”). And yes, these strange associations — and there were many of them — now helped me restore my memory.

And so it happened, as he predicted. When “Twilight” appeared several years ago, I seemed to wake up. I watched the film over and over again. And the thought that a person could disappear in order to save the one he loves by that very disappearance captured my consciousness, became stronger within me, and eventually compelled me to consider beginning my own “inner” investigation.

4.1. Nata in Panama

While these events from the past are unfolding before my mind’s eye, new information floats across the computer screen: a report from National Geographic magazine that in a place called Natá in Panama, scientists have found “the burials of warriors, clad from head to toe in gold and emeralds… One fine day, gold breastplates, pendants, and other rich ornaments floated down their river.”

This lush, vivid image immediately formed in my imagination.

And then my memory suddenly throws up a new recollection, which begins exactly where the previous one just ended. We are still there — on the seashore. “Do you know,” says Rein, when we’re over forty, somewhere in Panama, gold ornaments of Indian chieftains will rise and drift down the river. And there will be decayed fabric, beads spilling from it, and a golden seahorse.”

And now the news feed now presents this event to me in full detail in the January issue of the magazine. I see documentary photographs of that very golden seahorse and the scattered beads.

4.2. Love

In the unfolding of my recollection, at one point I suddenly find myself saying to Rein, “I love you too.” It was a strange feeling — as if we are standing still, even though we are walking slowly, while the Universe and time rush past us in a whirl.

4.3. Peter and Fevronia

“Remember,” Rein suddenly asks me from within the memory, “I told you about the Murom saints Peter and Fevronia? They persuaded God to let them die together — at the same time. Would you like that?” For some reason, I didn’t think long. I just felt that it would be wonderful — right and logical — to be together in life and in death, and I answered, “Yes.” To Rein, it seemed these words sounded like a password.

Now I think that perhaps this is how he determined, back then, that he had met a kindred spirit, and that, in fact, this modern version of myself wants for immortality.

So that’s what that necklace of seeds — and the beads and the lace were, which the images on the Internet kept persistently reminding me of. And the treasure of gold ornaments that surfaced… I wanted to believe that the time of that first “gift” had passed and a new era was beginning in my life — truly priceless treasures for me were surfacing in my memory.

However, as it turned out later, this is not all that I needed to remember about the necklace of seeds — and the beads and the lace.

4.4. Yin-Yang and the Black Belt

But Rein seemed to want me to realize one more key point. The black belt that divides Yin and Yang. Who is Vladimir really? Why did the mother of my ex-husband give me those items? What is the connection between her and Vladimir?

To bring something like this about, a person would need determination and power.

The necklace of seeds, the beads, and the lace were given to me by my mother-in-law, who personally arranged for her son to cooperate with the KGB through an acquaintance from her workplace when Danko was about to face compulsory military service

And once I recall that Vladimir, whom I believed I was seeing for the first time in my life in Pärnu, was already aware of the details of my biography, it naturally leads me to think that he himself was a KGB officer. Oh, how much I didn’t remember and didn’t understand at that moment!

4.5. Intersection

By some inexplicable coincidence, although I am Russian with a Polish great-grandfather and Rein is Estonian with a Russian grandmother, we both have German roots. Rein’s father was a German and spoke German to his son from birth, which, understandably, was not publicized.

At that time, the memory of the war of 1941—1945 in the USSR was still very strong and awakened strong emotions in people.

Interpreting our German surnames with ease, Rein once joked that if he was a “Red commander,” then I, based on my mother’s surname, was simply “young.” That was how he translated the surname “Junger.” And so, miraculously, “completely by chance,” we happened to cross paths with a leading Soviet expert on Western intelligence.

4.6. Signs, premonitions, prophecies

After the fateful meeting, Rein began to say frightening things at times. It was as if, in the middle of a sunny celebration, a black cloud were creeping over me, and I found myself paralyzed with terror.

“Do you see this line?” We are sitting on the warm white sand by the sea. Rein holds out his palm, “It shows that I will disappear for many years, but then I will return.” My vision goes dark for a moment. At such moments, my brain simply refused to absorb the information. Perhaps I never fully understood these words. Or it was beyond my understanding.

“I will return…” Rein repeated these words more than once.

While we were together, I tried not to think about parting. And I must say, I did it well.

On the last day of my stay in Pärnu in the summer of 1983, Rein and I walked through the city, had dinner, danced, swam, and were slowly walking back home in the twilight.

And with each passing moment, the feeling of the inevitability of our separation with all the ensuing consequences became more acute and aching.

And like a mantra, the Italian song “Tornerò” accompanied us all evening — a melody in which the rhythm of the heart merges with the rhythm of the wheels of the train carrying me to Moscow.

Again, I see the departing train,

and you wipe away a tear. —

“I will return.”

How is it possible — a year without you?

Now you write:

“Wait for me.

Time will pass.

A year is not a century; I will return.”

How hard it is to be without you.

You are my life.

How much nostalgia without you!

“I will return.”

“When you left, my loneliness began.

Everything around me reminds me of the beautiful days of our love.

The rose you left me has already withered.

And I keep it in a book,

Which I will never stop to read.

We will be together again.

I love you very much.

Time flies:

“Wait for me. I will return.”

“Think of me; know — time will pass.

You are my life…

“I will return. I will return.”

And yes, tears smeared my mascara on his shoulder. And the withered rose was stored for a long time.

And 2 years of military service loomed ahead. However, at that moment I knew that we would see each other again soon enough, and so it was, and this consoled me a little.

It was our first and most romantic parting of many others. Returning to the prophecies…

“Remember my signs,” Rein asked more than once. And when I, perplexed, asked how I could NOT recognize him, he answered, “You may need to identify me sometime in many years, when we have changed.”

And once he said, “I saw my double — I will soon die.”

Now, after time has passed (present days), when our mystical communication with Rein has been going on for several weeks, I began to understand what he was doing and what the meaning of what was happening is.

At first I thought it was all to clear up misunderstandings that had accumulated over the years so that we wouldn’t “kill” each other when we meet; I thought that Rein was about to return in the flesh.

Then I began to realize that it was much more complicated. There were serious reasons why we couldn’t be together. And it had something to do with my safety. There is a button for every person, if only there are power and levers of control.

But until the very last moment of my memories, deep down I believed that Rein was greatly exaggerating the danger, and, unfortunately, I was wrong.

5. Retrospective

Rein’s goal now is to give me back my memory. And I now have the opportunity to look back at those events again and make sense of them in retrospect. But how did it happen that I forgot everything that mattered most?

5.1. Letters

“Think,” Rein says, “where are my letters?” I jump up. Letters!

There were so many of them when he was in the army. We wrote to each other every day. I set his letters aside separately and then hid them safely when I married Danko. And now I’m on my way to my parents’ apartment to pick them up. But… I turned the whole house upside down — there were no letters.

Understanding nothing, I went back. I didn’t have a single clue. I didn’t know what to think. And then Rein’s words sounded in my head: « A bag… another bag.” What nonsense.

What does this have to do with it?

A moment later, it felt as though I remembered something. A large glass jar and packages… God, what am I doing?!

I have a stack of Rein’s letters in my hands, and I carefully place them into plastic bags, and then I put it all in a large glass jar and handed it to Danko…

I don’t understand. But a moment later, my consciousness clears again…

The first warm spring evening of 1986, it’s already completely dark outside. The window is slightly open, and the noise of cars rushing along the highway below is heard. The fresh scent of new leaves fills the air. I’m already in bed, almost ready for sleep.

Danko says, “Come on, where are they?”

Where indeed? And why is he asking me about Rein’s letters?

This is somehow unnatural…

I seem to see something unexpected — a large black bag is lying on the floor. I wonder what it’s doing here. I see myself rise and move toward the bag — but instead of opening it, I open the wardrobe door beside it. I reach somewhere deep into the things and pull out a stack of letters.

I seem to be hesitating. “They need to be wrapped in something,” I say. “Let’s put them in a jar,” Danko suggests.

I agree, but I’m still hesitant.

My hand happens to catch a bag; I put the letters in it and wrap them in another bag. Then it all goes into the jar, which I tightly seal with a lid and hand over to Danko. He takes a black bag (there’s something heavy in it already), puts the jar in it, says, “I’ll be right back,” and leaves.

And then I finally clearly understand what’s happening. There’s a shovel in the bag…

I still have an unpleasant feeling because it’s as if I were burying something alive. How did Danko manage to make me give him those letters willingly?

5.2. KGB. HR department

Everything turned out to be as easy as can be. One evening, a few days before the events described, Danko suddenly told me, “Rein, he’s a bandit.”

I perked up, “Why is that?”

But Danko simply continued: “Do you remember those guys from the KGB who came up to you in the personnel office? This is connected with them. It’s dangerous for me that you keep his letters at home because I’m evading military service. The military registration and enlistment office is looking for me.”

It sounded strange, and the facts were connected in a strange way, but I didn’t want any trouble for Danko, and at that moment Rein was basically the same as a traitor to me. I promised Danko to think about how to hide the letters more securely.

Yes, I vaguely remembered some incident that happened to me when I was working in the personnel office of a higher educational institute. It was in 1985, about a year after Rein disappeared. It was a cloudy, dreary autumn day, with a gray haze outside the window.

An amazingly oppressive, soporific atmosphere reigned in the office. KGB officers had been working here for several days in a row. This was common practice. In my mind’s eye, I remember piles of student files on the tables, many of which had already been looked through.

Today, there are only two officers here.

At some point, one of them, as if by chance, bumps into me in the middle of the room and quietly asks my name. I answer because I assume it is for work purposes. He introduces himself as Vladimir. “Phoenix,” he tells me, “Moscow, an English special school… and a necklace of seeds — and beads and lace …” Vague associations begin to surface in my mind.

The story in Pärnu “beyond the bridge” was almost completely erased from my memory, but these words caught my attention. The image of Rein immediately surfaced in my mind. However, the oppressive, hypnotic atmosphere was so overwhelming that I could only stare at Vladimir in silence. Meanwhile, a note with a phone number appeared in my hand. I was no longer detained.

I try to break through the layers of time to vague memories, but there seems to be a block in my head. It seems that it might sound like this: “I don’t remember; what I remember, I don’t believe, because it can’t be.”

When at some point in the HR department we were left alone with the boss, she said:

“Natasha, keep in mind that your file was reviewed by KGB officers. This is not good.” After such words, of course, I felt even more depressed.

But I was only 20 years old, and I knew absolutely nothing about KGB.

On the one hand, it seemed to me that my life could be in great danger for some mysterious reasons; on the other hand, due to my inexperience, I simply did not know what to expect. And on the third hand, a conversation with Vladimir, the same Vladimir with whom we crossed paths in Pärnu “beyond the bridge”… It seems that he had some special interest. He was clearly letting me know that not only did he remember his long-standing veiled “promise,” but that it had already been fulfilled to some extent.

That day, I asked to leave work early. At home, there was the same gray oppressive haze. I tried to organize my thoughts. I was fidgeting with the note with the phone number in my hands. At some point, I couldn’t stand it, so I went to the phone and dialed the number.

I asked for Vladimir Tumanin; they told me that he was not at work at the moment, suggested that I call back later, and asked if I wanted to leave a message… Was there any continuation? I don’t remember… Sometimes it seems to me that yes, there were other meetings. But it was as if a very talented hypnotist had carried out a thorough cleansing in my memory.

5.3. Treasure

Returning to the conversation with Danko, I really thought about how to hide Rein’s letters for a while. We didn’t have a dacha; It wasn’t possible to move them to Danko’s parents’ apartment, because the military registration and enlistment office would certainly look for Danko there, and had already been looking for him there.

The only option that came to mind, which is now clear to me was childish, was to temporarily bury Rein’s letters in the yard. And yes, on a late spring evening, Danko took a large black bag with a shovel and a jar containing the letters and went away for a while.

I remember asking Danko to mark the spot in the yard where he hid my “treasure” with a stone. For a long time, as I passed by, I noticed that stone under the tree. But at some point I stopped doing that…

Now I have a feeling that my life has been turned inside out… And now I am a stranger to myself, because even what I remembered is only the tip of the iceberg.

And the starting point in my life, no matter how you look at it, had always been Rein up to that point.

Before meeting him, I lived in anticipation of it. When we were together, I lived with our love. When I lost him… for a long time after that, if I wanted to be happy, beautiful, get married, or make a career, travel, or do charity work, then subconsciously all this was to show — or prove — to him, well, to myself too, that I could do all this without him.

However, returning to the gaps in my memory… Can a period of life be accidentally erased, not entirely but selectively, some important events?

I ask Rein about this. There are intricate script on the screen of my computer. It looks like oriental script, written from right to left. The computer translator gives a confused translation. Reading puts me into a state akin to meditation; at the same time, my mind begins to sink into the storehouse of memory and suddenly throws another episode up to the surface.

5.4. The Search

A few days after I gave Danko the letters, I remember clearly that it was early Saturday morning, and we were still half asleep in bed when the doorbell rang.

An unpleasant feeling — that exactly what we feared was happening. Danko gets dressed and, before going out, suddenly thrusts something into my hand, “Hide this.” He goes out, and I remain sitting there on the couch, looking at Rein’s old note. I don’t know what to do with it. I manage to throw on my robe.

Danko returns accompanied by a tall officer. I go out into another room. My mother is getting ready to go to the store, my father, as usual on weekends, is going to the yacht club. I am left alone. And I hide the note behind the cuff of my robe.

The door to the room opens, and a massive, solidly built military man comes right up to me and seems to loom over me, pressing me into a corner. And once again, I feel as if I’m moving in slow motion, as if under hypnosis. He demands that I give him what I am hiding. He threatens to search me. This horrifies me, and I give him the note.

Then the military man takes Danko away, as I was told, to the military registration and enlistment office.

Returning to the bedroom, I see a mess; the desk drawers are pulled out, everything is turned upside down — there was clearly a search here. Left alone in the midst of the devastation, I try to collect my thoughts.

I sort through the things in the desk drawer where my documents, notebooks, photographs, etc. are kept. I am afraid that something has suddenly disappeared. Almost mechanically, I find an envelope with old letters and postcards from relatives and take out a photo of Rein from there. It is in place.

When Danko asked me to hide Rein’s letters and everything that concerns him, I practically swept everything I had into one bag — but this photo… I couldn’t bring myself to do it — my hand just wouldn’t rise…

Rein’s gaze from this photo pierced me through and through, as always. I fuss over him so much, but he’s just a traitor… I vaguely remembered Rein’s words: “You’ll forget everything; everything will disappear; put my photo here (he shows me this place); here it will be preserved.” Soon Danko returns home and says that he is being taken into the army.

5.5. Amnesia

Late in the evening, we sit down to dinner. There’s a surprisingly sordid feeling in our hearts, as if something nasty has happened and we’ve been stained by it. I share how I feel with Danko. And he suddenly suggests, “Do you want to forget everything?”

Being young and inexperienced, I readily agree, believing that amnesia is a wonderful solution to my problems.

Danko shows me a bottle that has been standing on the TV for a couple of days. It is a tincture made with ginseng root. The root inside the clear bottle resembles a human figure. “If you drink it, you will forget everything.”

We open the bottle and drink; I quickly feel my consciousness clouding over. It seems to me that I see Danko pouring the contents of his glass into a flowerpot, thinking I can’t see. I keep drinking this fiery liquid, again and again, until I fall asleep.

The next morning I find myself in bed. And the first thing I see is my hand and a strange mark on it, as if from an injection. “What is this?” I ask Danko in surprise. He takes my hand in his and, mirroring my surprise, replies, “I don’t know. Where did you get this?”

I turn my hand this way and that, examining it from all sides.

Then my attention shifts, and, with a faintly ironic note of complaint, I say: “It didn’t work — I remember everything perfectly.”

However… Now I wonder when exactly I stopped noticing whether the stone was still there under the tree where I thought Rein’s letters were buried.

And this slightly reddened mark on my hand… Recently, I decided to find out what it was.

Alone I entered a meditative state and saw that Danko was giving me an injection with a needleless syringe when I was fast asleep. Which means that the tincture with the root was just a sleeping pill.

Now I know how I lost my memory — hypnosis, chemistry (scopolamine erases specifically selected memories), magic, plus my own desire. But I just don’t know how I got there…

5.6. Ex-husband: the beginning of the informant’s path, reasons, and consequences

A few years ago, Danko suddenly contacted me. He found me through the Odnoklassniki (Classmates) social network. He offered to meet. We corresponded for some time. I was interested in how he was doing. At that time, I was still in a state of “amnesia.” We communicated very well on the Internet. And when Danko started talking about a meeting, I replied that I was worried about the issue of trust because he was an employee of the KGB.

After that, the tone of our conversation changed. Danko said that he had not been associated with the the intelligence services for a long time. It seemed that he hoped that I would never remember this. That’s when our communication stopped, although not long before that, he himself offered me help in memory of the wonderful things that were between us…

Our marital relations with Danko ended badly. Almost immediately after the search, his mother began to talk about Danko having to make a career in the army along the KGB line and became very active in pursuing this

I did not object. This abbreviation didn’t mean anything to me. I was only told that it would be better for Danko in the army to act this way and that it opened up certain prospects. In his letters from the army, Danko sometimes shared details about how this process was going for him.

But… It just so happened that Perestroika suddenly began in the USSR. Both on TV and in the press, materials began to appear that shook me and penetrated me to the very marrow, revealing a previously unknown side of the KGB’s activities.

At some point, I realized that I did not want my husband to be associated with this. I wrote him a forthright letter. And a few days later, he unexpectedly arrived. I showed him these magazines with heartbreaking stories. He was looking at me somehow warily, maybe even frightened, and said almost nothing.

The next day, early in the morning, while we were still asleep, the phone rang. Danko answered briefly, got dressed, and silently left. Only in the evening did he tell me by phone that he would not return.

Not long ago, I tried to talk to Danko by dialing the phone number he left, but he hung up as soon as he realized who was calling.

What did Danko actually do with Rein’s letters which I gave him? Now I think that luring them out of me was his first KGB assignment. The search of the apartment was necessary to make sure that the cleanup had been carried out in good faith. And the note thrust into my hands…

They say that in order to become an employee of these secret service, you must rat someone out. Perhaps that’s what Danko did: first he put Rein’s note in my hands, and then he himself tipped them off about me.

I think that morning call was from the authorities. Apparently, Danko was told that an unreliable wife was not suitable for him, and he was ordered to divorce me.

But this, of course, is only part of the truth, as it is seen from my side.

In fact, it is scary to imagine what Danko had to go through. I think it all started with threats of problems in the army; there were fights before that. His face was permanently damaged…

Most likely, Danko was assured that taking away my letters and everything connected with the memory of Rein was necessary for my own good and safety. Well, and much later, when we were in correspondence several years ago, Danko mentioned that in fact he was a sniper in the army and fought in Afghanistan, which I had never even suspected.

At that time, my letters to him in the army were sent to a postal address in Lithuania, in a small town near Kaunas. In those years, we were all very worried about the servicemen not ending up in Afghanistan. And as it turned out, we did not know what really happened.

He was also wounded. And, apparently, a divorce could have become Danko’s salvation from something even more irreversible. After all, it is so easy to die in a war, and such a death does not raise unnecessary questions.

I bless you, Danko.

Forgive me.

I forgive you.

6. « This is something occult.”

Life is full of paradoxes. Reading this story, a psychiatrist might suspect the heroine of schizophrenia. A psychologist would speak of a connection with her own subconscious.

As for the spiritual dimension, one Orthodox priest whom I respect very much said that what happened to me was something occult. He advised me to stay away from all this. But… “staying away” did not solve my problem. For thirty years of my life, I did everything I could to keep my distance, but it didn’t work — the result was exactly the opposite.

6.1. Christianity and Kabbalah

For a long time, Christianity kept me from making sense of what had happened. On the one hand, it helped. I finally found a system of coordinates and made sense of what was right and what was wrong. But after years, it became clear that this was only the top layer. Underneath it was a kind of hidden trap. What looks like “good” can be, oh, so bad. After years, it turned out that making the right decisions requires great wisdom and life experience.

Thinking about the priest’s answer, I decided to dig into the word “occult,” because occultus (Latin) is “hidden,” “secret,” « sacred,” and God is the greatest Mystery. Among the many currents of occultism, Kabbalah is mentioned. I wondered — what is it?

I remember one of the tattoos on Rein’s arm. It is the Star of David — Magen David, or “Shield of David.” On his ring, he had the Tetragrammaton engraved. Rein predicted my future. And now when my memory has returned, I understand that almost all of the predictions came true. Plus, our telepathic communication… What if I look into whether this might somehow be connected to Kabbalistic knowledge?

I again remember the line on Rein’s palm and his prediction that he would disappear but return many years later. Rein tried to prepare me. But then I did not yet know that the predictions would come true. And Rein’s words were just words. When he disappeared, it was more logical to decide, as my aunt convinced me, that for him I was just a resort romance that he did not want to drag out.

6.2. Fulfillment of prophecies

Now the picture looks different: early discharge from the army — a problem with documents at the station — disappearance — loss of contact; hidden conflict with an influential person — a search — seizure of letters; mismatch of identifying features — return of my memory — fulfillment of prophecies…

Yes, if I had uncomfortable questions, giving me a diagnosis of schizophrenia could have been a “good” decision. I remember how masterfully my aunt manipulated me during that terrible time when Rein disappeared. I trusted her, although… at times I had doubts.

I trusted my grandmother completely, but it was at the moment of Rein’s disappearance that her condition worsened, which is strange. They say there are no coincidences. And it just so happened that my aunt became my confidant instead of her, although I subconsciously felt the difference between them.

Of course, I am describing the events from my perspective. Only toward the end of my investigation did I begin to realize that perhaps what Aunt was doing also had another side to it. Perhaps she was driven by illness, perhaps by terrible circumstances that I don’t know about, or perhaps by my own karma from past lives, when perhaps I myself caused her similar harm. And now we don’t owe each other any more.

And now I am grateful to you, Aunt, because what happened taught me a lot.

7. On the Final Day

On our last day in Moscow before his departure, Rein literally insisted that we visit my relatives. Why? If, according to my aunt’s version that had been firmly established in my head for many years, he was planning to abandon me…

Then, after seeing him off, I had to go back to my relatives’ apartment to pick up the civilian clothes that I had borrowed from acquaintances for Rein.

I told my aunt about what had happened at the railway station — about the problem with the ticket and documents — but what I heard from her were absolutely devastating things: “He only needs you for connections in Moscow — for business. He has a rich cousin with an inheritance in Pärnu. He is very interested in her. “Of course, I didn’t believe it, but when Rein stopped contacting me, what did I think…?

Aunt read my fortune in the cards: “A long journey awaits him, and a state institution…” “A state institution?” I asked, alarmed. “What is that?” “Mmm… well, a railway station, probably,” she replied.

Though now I suspect that what is known in fortune-telling as a “state institution” means arrest, prison, blackmail.

And then… probably training and intelligence work. Otherwise, it is unlikely that anyone would waste time and money on replacing Rein with a double…

8. Doppelgangers

A double…

At some point in our mystical communication, Rein asked me to compare the shape of his ear in his youth to the photos under his name online — they did not match.

Also, the person online didn’t have any tattoos…

And here, too, there is a double — just like in the legend of Peter and Fevronia… Then a new question arises: who is “the Serpent” in modern history?

There is something deeply personal here. Not just a kidnapping — a substitution as well.

The necklace of seeds — and beads and lace is a clear sign of revenge. If Rein had simply disappeared, I would have searched for him and built my life based on that. But in the case of a substitution, my behavior is completely different. Everything looks as if Rein abandoned me. It was an elaborate torture lasting for years — for both me and Rein.

This is revenge at its most extreme. But for what?

In our telepathic communication, Rein tries to make me understand that my loved ones and I are safe only as long as he is on duty and has not physically manifested himself in my life.

And how else could you make a person do what they would never do of their own free will, if not through such an intrigue — by blackmailing them with the safety of their loved ones?

9. Kabbalistic Astrology

Some time ago, I took the opportunity to speak with a Kabbalistic astrologer… I couldn’t find answers anywhere; perhaps here I might at least find some kind of clue.

I would never have gone to a regular astrologer. All my life, horoscopes had said that my Zodiac sign was Aries, yet I never found any real correspondence.

And I had been taught that, for Christians, horoscopes do not align at all.

However, according to the Kabbalistic calendar, it turned out that I am not a fiery Aries at all, but Pisces — a delicate, almost trembling mermaid. In essence, as they say, these are two very different things.

It turned out that the Kabbalistic calendar is dynamic, and therefore more precise, and that Pisces is the only month that can occur twice in a year due to the difference between the lunar and solar cycles (this happens seven times in nineteen years).

I was born in the month of Pisces II, or, as the sages say, I myself chose to be born on this day, in this month, and in this year…

What is remarkable is that Rein was born exactly thirteen months before me, on the very same day, in the month of Pisces I. And yes, “Pisces” can foresee the future, possess remarkable intuition, and adapt well to a double life…

We also spoke about the woman who had a significant influence on my life — undoubtedly my Aunt — and about the very powerful man behind her.

At that moment, I was still far from understanding who it might be, and I said, “Perhaps it is my uncle.”

The conversation with the astrologer was emotionally difficult for me…

At one point, I asked, “How am I connected to Vladimir? (He was born thirteen years before me.)” It turned out that we had been connected in a past life. “He loved you, but you chose another — the one you lost in this life.”

10. Past Lives and Their Correction

This answer fits rather neatly into the pattern of events in the tale of Peter and Fevronia. In that story, the Winged Serpent is so deeply in love that he will do anything to be with his beloved, even turning himself into a double of the man she loves. She, in turn, cunningly draws out from the double the secret of his death and passes it on to her husband, who then kills the Dragon.

“Perhaps she somehow provoked the Serpent from the very beginning,” I think, recalling my own carelessness in early youth, “and in that case, this killing could have set in motion a karma lasting for centuries.”

If I knew for certain whether past lives exist, and what exactly I did in them, I would sincerely repent — and thus bring an end to much suffering. And everything would fall into place.

I counted quite a number of parallels. And if it is indeed possible for someone to know their past lives, then this would explain what otherwise seems inexplicable from the point of view of logic.

Then the necklace-of-seeds-beads-and-lace — as a symbol of a promised retribution for something in the distant past — begins to make sense.

The Dragon delivers a cunning preemptive blow: Rein and Natalia are separated in such a way that it seems not only that they have no chance of being reunited, but that even understanding what truly happened is almost impossible — while the Serpent himself becomes the prince.

11. Relatives

11.1. Manipulation

Returning to the autumn of 1984… Of course, the plan to replace Rein required the support of one of my relatives in order to neutralize me — and my Aunt was perfectly suited for that role.

It was she who advised me, before setting out to search for him, to try calling Pärnu first. There was no telephone in Rein’s apartment, so the process was complicated — one had to summon the person by telegram to a public telephone exchange.

I had not planned on making such a call, since Rein was not at home, but my Aunt convinced me to try. And then a certain “friend” informed me that everything was perfectly fine, and I returned my ticket, deciding to wait a little longer.

Time passed, and Rein still did not get in touch. Once again, I was ready to leave for Pärnu. My Aunt said strange things to me:

“Of course, go ahead. You’ll arrive there all dressed up in a wedding gown and end up sitting in the stairwell outside his door. If he needs you, he will come himself.”

Of course, there was a certain logic in those words, undermining my trust in Rein. So once again, I waited. I was ill. And then the year 1985 began, and I received a postcard signed “Rein”: “Happy New Year! Come to Pärnu for a summer holiday.”

It felt like being spat on. And I was gullible… and never stopped to think about who had actually sent me that postcard signed with Rein’s name — or for what purpose.

11.2. “Choose Life”

And in the summer of 1985, I stood on the balcony of the ninth floor and looked down — the thought that suffering could be ended all at once was tempting.

Then I thought that perhaps I should try to become happy again… Who knows? After all, I had not yet tried.

It would never have occurred to me to suspect my own Aunt of anything. Besides, my relatives helped me financially. True, there was almost always a fly in the ointment in the barrel of honey.

Most often, it manifested itself in gifts for the children, who would fall ill immediately after seeing those relatives. This threw me completely off balance, and of course I would stop thinking about Rein for long periods of time. Perhaps there was no malicious intent behind it, but the sequence of events was exactly like that.

But then Rein returns my memory to me. And the mosaic falls into such a pattern that I abruptly cut off all contact with my Aunt.

11.3. “Don’t Sign a Will Without Reading It”

Now the word “will” appears on my computer screen with suspicious frequency. Rein asks me:

“Do you remember I warned you about the will?”

“The will? What will?” I ask in confusion.

Then, somewhere deep in my consciousness, something suddenly trembles, clears, and rises to the surface.

“Don’t sign a will without reading it,” Rein warned me during one of the last days we were together.

I remember that at the time, not understanding anything, I asked again:

“Whose will? Everyone seems to be alive and well. No one is planning to die.”

“It doesn’t matter whose. Someday that moment will come. Don’t sign a will without reading it,” he repeated once again, staring intently into my eyes.

And now another episode from many years ago appears before my mind’s eye. My Aunt calls me into my grandmother’s former room. Everyone is gathered there — my cousin, my uncle, and my Aunt’s colleague Joseph, whom she introduced as also being a lawyer.

Joseph read aloud the will, according to which my grandmother was supposedly leaving me her wardrobe and dishes, while my Aunt and her family were to receive her room. Then I was asked to sign the will.

I remember the phrase “Don’t sign a will without reading it” pounding in my head, but… That was when the targeted pressure began.

My Aunt suddenly began hurrying me, while I tried to make sense of the text. The difficulty was that it was practically impossible to understand — it was something completely indigestible, written in dense bureaucratic legal language, extremely long and printed in tiny letters.

I became confused. My Aunt showed increasing irritation and kept pressuring me more and more. In the end, I did exactly what everyone in that room expected of me — I signed without reading it.

Some time ago, I asked my relatives to allow me to reread that “will,” but I received no positive response. Searches for the document in notary offices also proved unsuccessful.

I remember the astrologer saying that the will had been stolen. And according to lawyers, most likely I had signed a renunciation of inheritance. Though who knows — in reality, it could have been absolutely anything…

At the same time, I asked my relatives to help search for Rein, but they told me they remembered nothing. And yes — after Rein disappeared, they somehow gradually and almost imperceptibly became wealthy…

Or perhaps all these coincidences are accidental…

12. Levels of the Soul

Returning to the paradoxical nature of my mystical-spiritual-psychological-detective-political drama, it is interesting to note that the spiritual realm, through Kabbalah, revealed something else useful to me as well.

For example — telepathy.

Living beings can communicate through wave vibrations emitted by the brain, vibrations that propagate according to the same physical laws as sound. But in most cases, rational thinking prevents us from consciously perceiving them.

It was precisely these waves that made our immaterial communication with Rein possible.

But what came as a complete surprise to me was that Kabbalists claim that the soul consists of several levels, and that for certain souls there exists the possibility of partially connecting with another person’s soul on one of those levels.

Perhaps this, too, could explain what I felt when I received information from Rein — it was not something coming from outside. Rather, it felt as though I were drawing information from the depths of my own soul, or, in other words, from the depths of the space uniting our souls.

13. “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”

The sages say that it is very difficult — almost impossible — for two soul-halves to reunite in this world. It seems as though the entire world tries to prevent it… By exploring our past responsibly, we carve a path for ourselves into the expected and unexpected reality of miracles.

If one looks exclusively at the criminal aspect of this story, it offers a goldmine for a detective. The only problem is that, as if deliberately, there is no private investigation service in Estonia.

For quite a long time, this held me back, as did the fact that I do not know the Estonian language. Nevertheless, I eventually found the specialist I needed. And soon I learned that none of Rein’s relatives who could confirm or refute the information I possessed were still alive.

The first to die was Rein’s father, in 1989 (strangely enough, even his date of birth is missing from his gravestone). Then came his mother (her listed birth year — 1928 — raises doubts; visually, she did not appear older than my own parents). Then, in 2008, his brother Jüri died — which in itself is strange, considering the age at which he died.

At the same time, the brother left behind neither a wife nor children (despite the fact that he did, incidentally, have both), nor any trace on the internet; he died in a closed institution; and he was also younger than the gravestone claims.

Clearly, the history of this family requires a separate investigation. A kind of “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”…

Meanwhile, the double himself is alive and well, heading an Estonian sports club and, until recently, an international corporation in the capital of Latvia.

Through unofficial channels, I received a warning that no matter which state authority I approached with a request for an investigation, the answer would always be the same: the information had been checked, the identity confirmed. I am not a relative and therefore have no right either to an investigation or to access information. It is a kind of dead end.

I was told that there was only one way to investigate what had happened — to find another person who could confirm that Rein had tattoos, or to find another photograph of Rein showing the same ear shape as in the photograph I still possess. But all those close to him died, almost as if on command…

14. The Dragon at Leningradsky Station…

Our mystical communication with Rein ends almost on the very same day as it did many years ago — his mission has been fulfilled. On September 22, the day of his disappearance, I go to Leningradsky Station in memory of what happened.

On the tracks stands the same old blue train, “Estonia.” In my recollection, it is at this very spot that Rein, many years ago, says:

“And clocks without hands await me…”

And then he adds another phrase, one that at the time was completely incomprehensible to me:

“We will meet on the island.”

Then, in my recollection, I watch the train vanish into the distance, and I can only imagine what may have happened to Rein aboard it. I am not even sure he managed to travel farther than the Moscow region.

“Dear Lord,” I whisper, “help Rein return. Help me learn what happened to him.”

I step out of the Leningradsky Station building and freeze in astonishment — before me stands a massive sculptural composition: a Warrior on horseback piercing a Winged Serpent with a spear… against the backdrop of the same mutilated clock, gaping with emptiness, “without hands.”

Both Rein and Vladimir are Dragons according to the Eastern zodiac…

Annex 1.“Through the Ages” About miracle workers and intercessors

1. The Golden Age

“When a coincidence repeats itself, it is no longer a coincidence.”

Since ancient times, people have linked the coming of an age of prosperity with the return of Peter and Fevronia of Murom.

Several years ago, when I was studying at a theological institute, one of the students asked the teacher:

“When will the Golden Age come?” To this, the teacher replied that the Golden Age would come only with the return of Peter and Fevronia — which, in his opinion, meant that it would never come at all.

I remember very clearly both myself and my Aunt at that meeting, whom I had invited to listen to an interesting lecture as part of a catechetical discussion.

Perhaps now, after writing the fourth part of this book, I would call the “mystery” unfolding there at that moment a symbolic “coincidence.” Now I know that my Aunt never did anything accidentally. During all my years of study at the Christian institute, this subject was never brought up again.

Which means that both my Aunt and someone from her leadership were aware of the probable possibility of the return of Peter and Fevronia.

It seems that my Aunt wanted this information to become firmly imprinted in my mind. And she succeeded.

Try searching the Internet for anything about the coming of the Golden Age through the return of Peter and Fevronia, and you will find nothing. Yet only a few years ago, this was a popular topic.

The situation reminds me of the well-known fairy tale Sleeping Beauty. In order to prevent the princess from pricking her finger on a spindle, all the spindles in the kingdom are burned.

So it is here.

2. The Tale of Peter and Fevronia of Murom

“Love is eternity itself. It makes us immortal.”

2.1. Intrigues of the Dragon

There is in the Russian land a city called Murom. Once, it was ruled by a prince named Paul. It happened that a winged Serpent began flying to his wife, and through his sorcery he appeared before her in the likeness of the prince himself.

This delusion continued for a long time. The wife did not hide it and told her husband, the prince, everything that had happened to her. And the evil Serpent took possession of her by force.

The prince began to think about what to do with the Serpent, but remained perplexed. And he said to his wife:

“I do not know how to overcome this villain, nor how to kill him. When he speaks with you, ask him, deceiving him with flattery, whether this Serpent himself knows from what his death is destined to come.

If you learn this and tell us, you will free yourself not only in this life from his power, but in the life to come you will also win the mercy of the Creator.”

His wife firmly sealed her husband’s words in her heart and decided:

“I will certainly do so.”

And so one day, when the Serpent came to her, keeping her husband’s words firmly in her heart, she began speaking to the Serpent with flattering speeches, talking of this and that, and at last, respectfully praising him, asked:

“You know many things — but do you know what kind of death awaits you, and from what it will come?”

But the Serpent, the deceiver, was himself deceived by the permissible deception of the faithful wife, and, neglecting secrecy, said:

“My death is destined to come from Peter’s shoulder and from Agrikov’s sword.”

Hearing these words, the wife firmly remembered them in her heart and told them to her husband, the prince. But the prince remained perplexed — what could it mean: death from Peter’s shoulder and from Agrikov’s sword?

The wife, hearing these words, firmly remembered them in her heart and told them to her husband, the prince. But the prince remained perplexed — what could it mean: death from Peter’s shoulder and from Agrikov’s sword?

Now the prince had a blood brother named Peter. One day Paul summoned him and began telling him of the Serpent’s words spoken to his wife. Prince Peter, hearing that the Serpent had named him as the one by whose hand he was destined to die, began to think about how to kill the Serpent. Only one thing troubled him — he knew nothing of Agrikov’s sword.

Peter had the custom of going alone to churches. And outside the city there stood, in a convent, the Church of the Exaltation of the Holy and Life-Giving Cross. He came there alone to pray.

And behold, a youth appeared to him, saying:

“Prince! Do you wish me to show you Agrikov’s sword?”

And he, striving to fulfill what he had conceived, replied:

“Let me see it!”

Then the youth said:

“Follow me.”

And he showed the prince a crack in the altar wall between the stones, and there a sword lay hidden.

Then Prince Peter took that sword, went to his brother, and told him everything. And from that day on he began seeking the right moment to kill the Serpent.

Every day Peter would visit his brother and his brother’s wife to bow before them. Once it happened that he came to his brother’s chambers, and immediately afterward went from there to his sister-in-law’s chambers and saw that his brother was sitting there with her.

Then Peter understood that these were the intrigues of the evil Serpent.

He came to his brother and said to him:

“When did you come here? When I left your chambers and, without stopping anywhere, came to your wife’s chambers, I saw you sitting there with her and was greatly astonished at how you had arrived before me. And now I have come here again, without stopping anywhere, yet somehow you have once more arrived here before me.”

But Paul replied:

“Brother, after you left, I did not leave my chambers, nor was I with my wife.”

Then Prince Peter said:

“This, brother, is the intrigue of the evil Serpent, who appears to me in your likeness so that I will not dare kill him, thinking it is you. Now, brother, do not leave this place. I shall go and fight the Serpent, and I hope that with God’s help this evil Serpent will be slain.”

And taking Agrikov’s sword, he went to his sister-in-law’s chambers and saw the Serpent in the form of his brother. But, firmly convinced that this was not his brother but the deceitful Serpent, he struck him with the sword.

And the Serpent, returning to his natural form, trembled and died, splattering Prince Peter with his blood.

And from that poisonous blood Prince Peter became covered with sores, ulcers appeared upon his body, and a grave illness overtook him. He sought healing from many physicians throughout his lands, but none could cure him.

2.2. Healing of Prince Peter

Prince Peter heard that there were many physicians in the Ryazan land and ordered that he be taken there. Because of his grave illness, he could not sit on a horse himself. And when they brought him to the Ryazan land, he sent all his attendants to look for physicians.

One of the prince’s young servants wandered into a village called Laskovo. He came to the gate of one house and saw no one. He entered the house, but no one came out to meet him. Then he entered the upper room and saw a wondrous sight: a girl sat alone at a loom, weaving cloth, and before her a hare was hopping.

And the girl said:

“It is bad when a house is without ears, and an upper room without eyes!”

The young man, not understanding these words, asked the girl:

“Where is the master of this house?”

She answered:

“My father and mother have gone to borrow tears, and my brother has gone to look death in the eyes through his legs.”

The young man did not understand the girl’s words. He marveled, seeing and hearing such wonders, and asked her:

“I came in to you and saw that you were weaving, and before you a hare was hopping. And I heard strange words from your lips, and I cannot understand what you are saying.”

She said to him:

“And even this you cannot understand! You came into this house and entered my upper room, and found me in an untidy state. If there had been a dog in our house, it would have sensed you and begun barking at you — those are the ears of the house. And if there had been a child in my upper room, then, seeing you enter, he would have told me of it — those are the eyes of the house.

And as for my father and mother having gone to borrow tears — they have gone to a funeral, and there they are weeping over the dead. And when death comes for them, others will weep over them. That is borrowed weeping.

And I said this to you about my brother because my father and brother are tree-climbers: they gather honey from trees in the forest. Today my brother went to tend the bee-trees, and when he climbs up a tree, he will look down at the ground through his legs so as not to fall from the height. For if someone falls, he parts with life. That is why I said he had gone to look death in the eyes through his legs.”

The young man said to her:

“I see, maiden, that you are wise. Tell me your name.”

She answered:

“My name is Fevronia.”

And that young man said to her:

“I am the servant of Prince Peter of Murom. My prince is gravely ill, covered with ulcers. He became covered with scabs from the blood of the evil flying Serpent, whom he killed with his own hand. In his own principality he sought healing from many physicians, but no one could cure him. Therefore he ordered that he be brought here, because he had heard that there are many physicians here. But we know neither their names nor where they live, and so we are asking about them.”

To this she answered:

“If someone were to require your prince for himself, that person could cure him.”

The young man said:

“What are you saying — who can require my prince for himself? If someone cures him, the prince will reward him richly. But tell me the name of that physician, who he is and where his house is.”

She answered:

“Bring your prince here. If he is sincere and humble in his words, he will be healed.”

The young man quickly returned to his prince and told him in detail everything he had seen and heard.

Prince Peter ordered:

“Take me to where this maiden is.”

And they brought him to the house where the girl lived. And he sent one of his servants to ask:

“Tell me, maiden, who wishes to cure me? Let him cure me and receive a rich reward.”

She answered plainly:

“I wish to cure him, but I require no reward from him. This is my word to him: if I do not become his wife, then it is not fitting for me to cure him.”

The man returned and told his prince what the girl had said.

Prince Peter treated her words with contempt and thought:

“How can this be — for a prince to take the daughter of a tree-climber as his wife?”

And he sent word to her, saying:

“Tell her: let her cure me as she knows how. If she cures me, I will take her as my wife.”

They came to her and delivered these words. She took a small bowl, scooped up some bread leaven with it, breathed upon it, and said:

“Let them heat a bathhouse for your prince, and let him smear this over his whole body wherever there are scabs and ulcers. But let him leave one scab unsmeared. And he will be healed.”

And they brought this ointment to the prince, and he ordered the bathhouse to be heated.

But he wished to test the girl in her answers — whether she was as wise as he had heard from his young servant.

He sent her a small bundle of flax with one of his servants, saying:

“This maiden wishes to become my wife because of her wisdom. If she is so wise, let her make me from this flax a shirt, garments, and a kerchief in the time while I am in the bathhouse.”

The servant brought Fevronia the bundle of flax and, handing it to her, delivered the prince’s command. She said to the servant:

“Climb onto our stove and, taking down a small log, bring it here.”

He obeyed her and brought the small log. Then she measured off a span and said:

“Cut this piece off the log.”

He cut it off.

She said to him:

“Take this piece of wood, go and give it to your prince from me, and tell him: in the time while I comb this bundle of flax, let your prince make from this piece a loom and all the other equipment on which the cloth for him will be woven.”

The servant brought the piece of wood to his prince and delivered the girl’s words. The prince said:

“Go and tell the girl that it is impossible to make what she asks from such a small piece of wood in such a short time!”

The servant came and delivered the prince’s words to her.

The girl answered:

“And is it possible for a grown man, from one bundle of flax, in the short time while he is washing in the bathhouse, to make a shirt, garments, and a kerchief?”

The servant went and delivered these words to the prince. And the prince marveled at her answer.

Then Prince Peter went to wash in the bathhouse and, as the girl had instructed, smeared his ulcers and scabs with the ointment. But he left one scab unsmeared, as the girl had ordered. And when he came out of the bathhouse, he no longer felt any illness.

The next morning he looked — his whole body was healthy and clean; only one scab remained, the one he had not smeared, as the girl had instructed. And he marveled at such swift healing. But he did not wish to take her as his wife because of her origin, and sent her gifts. She did not accept them.

Prince Peter went to his patrimonial city, Murom, healed. Only one scab remained on him, the one that had not been smeared according to the girl’s command. And from that scab new scabs spread over his whole body from the day he went to his patrimonial city. And again he became covered all over with scabs and ulcers, as he had been the first time.

And again the prince returned to the girl for the tested treatment. And when he came to her house, he sent to her in shame, asking for healing. She, not at all angry, said:

“If he becomes my husband, he will be healed.”

He gave her his firm word that he would take her as his wife. And again, as before, she prescribed for him the same treatment about which I have already written earlier. And he, having quickly been healed, took her as his wife. In this way Fevronia became a princess.

And they arrived in their patrimonial city, Murom, and began to live piously, transgressing none of God’s commandments.

2.3. The intrigues of the boyars

After some time, Prince Paul died. Right-believing Prince Peter became autocrat in his city after his brother.

The boyars, at the urging of their wives, did not love Princess Fevronia because of her humble origin. Yet because of her good deeds she was beloved by the common people, who prayed for her.

One day, one of her attendants came to the noble Prince Peter and said of her:

“Every time after finishing a meal, she leaves the table not according to rank. Before rising, she gathers crumbs into her hand, as though she were hungry.”

Prince Peter wished to test this. He ordered Princess Fevronia to sit beside him at table. After the meal, Fevronia, according to her custom, gathered crumbs into her hand. Prince Peter took her by the hand and asked her to open it. And in her palm there appeared fragrant incense and myrrh.

From that day on, Peter no longer tested her.

The shameless boyars, having lost all sense of shame, decided to hold a feast. And so they feasted, and when they became drunk, they began speaking their shameless words like barking dogs, denying Fevronia the God-given gift of healing with which God had endowed her even beyond death.

And they said:

“Lady Princess Fevronia! The whole city and the boyars ask of you: give us whomsoever we ask from you!”

She answered:

“Take whom you ask for.”

And they, as though with one mouth, replied:

“Lady, we all desire Prince Peter to rule over us, but our wives do not wish you to rule over them. Take whatever wealth you require and go wherever you wish!”

Then she said:

“I promised you that whatever you ask, you shall receive. Now I say to you: promise me that you will give me whomsoever I ask from you.”

Those villains rejoiced, not knowing what awaited them, and swore:

“Whomever you name, you shall immediately receive without objection.”

Then she said:

“I ask for nothing other than my husband, Prince Peter.”

And they answered:

“If he himself desires it, we shall say no word against you.”

The Enemy darkened their minds, and each of the boyars thought within himself that if Prince Peter were no longer ruler, another autocrat would have to be chosen — and in his heart each boyar hoped to become autocrat himself.

For the blessed Prince Peter did not wish to violate God’s commandments for the sake of earthly power. For it is written in the Gospel:

“Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery.”

And the blessed Prince Peter chose rather to abandon his rule than abandon the commandment of God.

The boyars prepared vessels for Peter and Fevronia, because the city of Murom stood upon the River Oka. And so they departed, sailing down the river.

On the princess’s vessel there was a certain man from the prince’s retinue. Looking at Princess Fevronia, he became troubled by impure thoughts.

Princess Fevronia immediately understood his thoughts and exposed him, saying:

“Draw water from the river from this side of the boat and drink it.”

He did so.

Then she said:

“Now draw water from the other side and drink.”

He did so.

Then Princess Fevronia asked him:

“Does the water from one side of the river differ from the water on the other side, or is it the same?”

The man answered:

“It is the same, lady.”

Then she said:

“So too is womanly nature. Why then, leaving your own wife, do you think of another?”

And that man, understanding her wisdom, became ashamed and abandoned such thoughts.

When evening came, they landed on shore and began preparing to spend the night.

Prince Peter thought to himself:

“What will become of me now, since I have voluntarily renounced my rule?”

But his wise wife Fevronia, perceiving his thoughts, comforted him, saying:

“Do not grieve, Prince. The merciful God, Creator of all things, will not abandon us in poverty.”

That evening the servants began preparing food for the prince. They cut down small trees and used them for hanging the cauldrons.

Princess Fevronia walked among the cut branches and said:

“May these branches be blessed, for by morning they will become great trees with leaves.”

And so it came to pass. In the morning, rising from sleep, they saw that the cut branches had become great trees with leaves.

And when they began loading the vessels, messengers arrived from the city of Murom, saying:

“Our lord, Prince! Do not abandon your orphans. Return to your city and rule over us as before. Many of the boyars in the city have perished by the sword. Each wished to rule, and so they killed one another. Those who remain alive, together with all the people, beg you: return and rule over us. We shall never again speak against Princess Fevronia, your spouse.”

Then blessed Prince Peter and Princess Fevronia returned to the city of Murom and ruled there according to God’s commandments.

They loved all equally, did not love cruelty or acquisitiveness, did not spare perishable riches, but grew rich with the riches of God.

And they were true shepherds for their city, and not like hired servants. They ruled their city with justice and meekness, and not with wrath. They received travelers, fed the hungry, clothed the naked, and delivered the poor from misfortunes.

2.4. The Repose of Peter and Fevronia

As death approached, Peter and Fevronia prayed to God that they would both die in the same hour. And they bequeathed that they both be put in one tomb, and they ordered to make two coffins from one stone, having a thin partition between them. Additionally, they both took monastic vows: Prince Peter became Brother David, and Princess Fevronia became Sister Euphrosinia.

And it happened that, shortly before her death, Princess Fevronia was embroidering a figure of the saints on a coverlet for the chalice of the cathedral. And a messenger came from Prince Peter, now Brother David, saying: “Sister Euphrosinia, I am ready to die, and I will wait only for you, so that we may die together.”

But Princess Fevronia, now Sister Euphrosinia, answered, “You should wait, my lord, until I finish the coverlet for the chalice of the holy cathedral.”

Then Brother David sent another messenger who announced, “I can only wait for you for a short time.” Shortly after, another messenger arrived, saying, “I shall soon depart this world. There is no time left for waiting.”

Princess Fevronia had just finished embroidering the coverlet, but upon hearing these words, she placed the needle in the coverlet and wound up the thread she had been using. She then sent a message to Brother David, saying that they would now die together. After praying, they offered up their souls to God on Friday, the 20th day of June.

After their deaths, some people decided that Prince Peter should be buried in the Cathedral of the Holy Virgin within the walls of the city of Murom, and Princess Fevronia should be buried in the Church of the Elevation of the Holy Cross outside the walls of the city. And they did so, saying that it was not appropriate for a man and woman who had taken monastic vows to be buried in the same casket.

The body of Prince Peter was placed in a casket and left overnight in the cathedral, while the body of Princess Fevronia was placed in another casket and put in the church outside the city walls. A tomb carved from a huge rock, intended as the resting place for Peter and Fevronia remained empty in the yard of the Cathedral of the Holy Virgin.

The next morning, the people went to the caskets of Peter and Fevronia and found them empty. The bodies of the holy prince and princess were discovered together in the tomb of stone, which they had ordered to be prepared for them. The people, not understanding the meaning of this event, once again placed the bodies in separate caskets.

On the following day, the bodies of Prince Peter and Princess Fevronia were once again found together in the tomb of stone.

Since that time, no man has dared disturb their holy bodies but has left them in their communal tomb in the yard of the Cathedral of the Holy Virgin, located in the city of Murom. Anyone who touched the tomb, where the holy relics of Peter and Fevronia lie, with faith always received comfort and healing.

Yermolai-Erasmus

1547

Part II. Back to the future. “Reach me”

“The Story of Desire”

“Savor the wine of youth;

from this cup you drink only once,”…

if you don’t know the secret.

“The greatest human weakness is their loved ones.

There are many ways to die,

but the worst is when your loved ones are taken away from you, » …

but you can choose not to give them away.

1. Family history

My grandfather was a Soviet German. I never saw him. He died in 1940. My Russian grandmother was left alone with two small daughters with German surnames. As I was told, they were saved from deportation and repression only because my grandfather died before the war of 1941—1945.

My mother suffered because of her German origin; she was bullied at work. Aunt, mother’s sister, did not suffer…

Dear Aunt, this part of the book is mostly about us. I have many questions for you. I would ask you, “Why?” But I have already tried, and the answer was a mixture of truth and untruth, i.e., slander. The answer could have been, “I was forced.” I would understand that.

Rein disappeared — he was forced. But there is something more behind the actions. Perhaps: “I love you, and I am so sorry that this is not in my power.” But…

I compare, for example, the touch of hands. The warmth of Rein’s hands and… Remember when I was 14, and you seemed to be trying to help me tie my hair better, but instead, on the contrary, you untied it for the whole street to see at a very special moment.

However, this book is about miracles, and now that I have finished the fourth part, I know the answer. And I thank you for everything you have done.

2. Alone again

2.1. Help from the Zohar

Well, here I am, left alone again. Again, I could no longer communicate with Rein. But he completed his mission. The investigation mechanism through memory restoration was launched.

Days turned into months. When I thought I had exhausted every means available to me to find Rein and understand what had happened, I sought the help of the Zohar, for whom, if you know how to use it, nothing is impossible.

2.2. Back to the Future

New finds, signs, evidence, and, most surprisingly, memories kept appearing.

Memories appeared completely unexpectedly in a variety of places and circumstances, usually as a momentary glimpse of a familiar picture, feeling, or mood.

And then they disappeared. Previously, I didn’t attach any importance to this, but now I grabbed hold of the elusive thread of memory and persistently pulled on it.

Memories came back from a variety of periods in my life. But now I was almost drowning in what I had discovered about my 14-year-old self in the past.

3. “Sleeping Beauty” -1

3.1. Plan

It was a wonderful July summer in Pärnu, the peak of the season, and vacationers were having a blast, enjoying the sea, the beach, the sun, the warmth, and the cozy resort town.

The original plan for the summer was this: We are going to Pärnu with two families. Me with my parents, and my cousin with her parents. Then, in a month, my parents and uncle are leaving for Moscow, because their vacation will end by that time, and they will have to go back to work. Our grandmother is coming to replace them. And my cousin and I are left in the care of my grandmother and aunt for another month.

3.2. House on Pardi Street

That year, we rented rooms in a private house, wonderful in all respects, on the seaside street of Pardi.

From the outside, this house was unremarkable, but what was happening inside… It seems to me that it was a special interdimensional world where the mystery of karma took place that summer as a result of the reincarnations of its inhabitants.

The house was two storeys. My parents and I lived in a room on the first floor with windows looking out onto the street. Here I read “War and Peace” by Tolstoy, a program work for the 9th grade that we were assigned for the summer. And the cousin’s family settled on the second floor. A separate narrow, steep staircase led up to them, starting in the hall-living room.

And, oh, how could I not mention it? In the shaded hall with windows facing the courtyard, there was a fireplace — right opposite the stairs. Next to it was a coffee table. On it, on black marble with white veins, was a golden lizard, crowned with a crown, just like the Mistress of the Copper Mountain. This lizard attracted me; I often looked at it for a long time.

Here on the table, on the fireplace, everywhere, freshly cut double pink, white, and burgundy huge peonies, like foam, in vases spread their intoxicating aroma throughout the house.

In this hall reigned its own mysterious atmosphere. The windows of the cousin’s family room looked out onto a charming inner courtyard with a miniature pond, framed by ferns and rounded stones, sparkling with mica in the blinding sun, and with an apple orchard, where it was so pleasant to spend time on warm summer evenings.

3.3. The show is starting

It seems that until I write out the whole story to the end, I will not be able to calm down.

So this story began to develop rapidly from the moment when, following the plan, my parents left for Moscow a month later, leaving me with my cousin, aunt, and uncle.

It was expected that in a few days my uncle would also leave, thus freeing up space for my grandmother.

But… suddenly we received a telegram from my parents that my grandmother had unexpectedly become ill and was NOT coming.

Poor grandmother, it seems that her health deteriorated for a reason. After all, if she had come to Pärnu that summer, as planned, the story described below would not have happened. My uncle also could not stay; he had to go to Moscow for work. And I stayed in Pärnu for another month with my cousin and her mother.

All my life I remembered only this.

What actually happened — my memory recently splashed out on me in small portions over the course of several days.

3.4. As if by chance

I’m not sure in what order it’s best to describe the events. I’ll try chronologically.

Since in those years in Pärnu there were interruptions in the hot water supply in the summer, we sometimes went to the sauna. The sun was already setting and gave a lilac-golden hue to the quiet and deserted (because everyone was by the sea) Posti Street, along which we (me, my mother, cousin, and Aunt) were returning home, relaxed and peacefully, washed to a shine, chatting and exchanging jokes.

My problem at that moment was that my damp, knee-length hair was gathered on top of my head and tied with a scarf. This bun was heavy and slowly slid down. The scarf kept getting skewed, but I, obedient to my mother, kept it in the right place and from time to time complained about this inconvenience.

Behind me in the distance, I heard a noise, like from a turned-off car engine, and a conversation. Around the same time, my aunt, as if deciding to help me, began to straighten the scarf and hair on my head. I remember her hand well, according to my, perhaps subjective feelings, confidently purposeful, strong, and rather rigid. As a result of this machination, the scarf completely slid off my head, and my slightly damp, knee-length hair was free.

I expressed dissatisfaction because I thought that I looked wrong this way, from my point of view, although, on the other hand, it was much more convenient. Mother was generally afraid that I would catch a cold, although it was 25 degrees outside, if not more.

At the same time, the sound of a slowly approaching passenger car and slightly excited male voices were heard from behind. The car overtook us unhurriedly, and I saw a brand new pistachio-colored “Zhiguli” shining in the rays of the sunset and young men company talking and looking at me in it. Mother made a menacing face, and they thought it best to quickly turn the corner onto Side Street.

I remember this episode well.

What I would like now is to know when all this “mess was initially brewed.” At that moment or even earlier?

3.5. Test dress up

The next one in chronological order would probably be this episode. The parents have left. We have not yet received a telegram about Grandma’s illness. And I live together with my cousin, aunt, and uncle.

A gentle, calm sea, hot white sand, swimming to your heart’s content.

But it’s time to go home for lunch. To change our wet swimsuits, my aunt and I climb into one cabin because there is a line for each of them on the beach. We’re talking. And I catch Aunt’s short, but intent, appraising gaze, more precisely, not on myself, but rather on a certain naked part of my body. And I still remembered this, too, although I didn’t attach any importance to it at the time. The only thing was that I felt uncomfortable for a moment.

3.6. Why do women go to the women’s beach?

And the next event happened on the same day after lunch. Aunt announced that it would be useful for her and me to go to the women’s beach and sunbathe topless there. I couldn’t understand why we needed this. “Why?” My aunt inspiredly and eloquently convinced me. “All women try to get rid of the marks that remain from the straps of a swimsuit while tanning. So you put on an open dress, and there are white stripes. And if you’re topless, you’ll have an even tan.”

I stubbornly didn’t understand why I needed this because I didn’t have such a dress. But my aunt insisted; she definitely needed it. Although I didn’t know she had a dress like that either. And to buy something new, fashionable, beautiful and in the right size due to the shortage in those days was a real miracle.

But Aunt said that she was going to alter one of her things in the near future, and she even opened the suitcase and showed it.

I continued to doubt it because she didn’t have a sewing machine. But my aunt assured me that Lutia, the mistress of the house, would be happy to provide it. Somewhere at this stage, the matter stalled. I remember Lutia even showed me a beautiful foot-operated German Zinger sewing machine, which stood in one of the distant rooms.

3.7. Why do men go to the women’s beach?

However, based on the results of the debate, it was decided that the next day my aunt and I would go to the women’s beach to sunbathe. Aunt put on a wig for this occasion (I remember I kept trying to understand why she needed it on the beach and whether it was hot in it). And finally, we lay down between the beautiful Baltic dunes, where here and there other topless tan lovers were sunbathing in pairs or alone.

With my back exposed to the hot sun, I read “War and Peace” through the dark glasses that my aunt had just given me. These were her own signature fashionable Polaroid glasses. I covered my chest with a towel. As I got deeper into reading, at some point I heard strange, approaching sounds.

Oh, it was clearly a woman’s squeal and something else. Male laughter. Two young men walked straight through the women’s beach towards the sea and laughed with all their might, exclaiming, “Oh, girls!” when, first behind one dune, then behind another bush, the squeal of a disturbed lady was heard. However, they did not give free rein to their hands.

At some point, they were right next to us. My aunt jumped up as if in surprise, loudly exclaiming, “Oiy-oiy,” and as if inviting me to follow her example. I pressed myself deeper into the ground and blushed. These young people seemed vaguely familiar to me. This is where the adventure actually ended.

I just asked my aunt in bewilderment, “Why did you jump up? You could just lie there and lie…” To which Aunt said pleadingly, “Just don’t tell anyone; otherwise, I’ll be scolded.” To which I pensively agreed.

3.8. Poor relative

A few days later, early in the morning, Aunt receives a telegram that the grandmother is ill and that she will not come.

Aunt’s eyes become moist. She asks Lutia’s permission to call Moscow on her home phone.

Grandma suddenly became ill, and she is now afraid to go to another city. Aunt is completely depressed all day, worrying about her mother’s health. I’m worried about my grandmother and that I may have become a burden to my aunt.

I remember the image of Sonya from the book “War and Peace,” who was treated well but as a poor relative. Vague parallels flash through my mind.

My parents also calculated options for how to take me to Moscow. But nothing worked out. It was almost impossible to get tickets to the resort and back to Moscow during the peak season in those years. And it was impossible to leave my grandmother alone. And my aunt told them not to worry; she would take care of me.

3.9. Thirst for Solitude

When my uncle left us, the three of us stayed to live in a small room on the 2nd floor of a mystical house with a window overlooking a pond in the yard.

I loved looking out that window when the setting sun painted the roofs of the neighboring houses golden-pink and lilac twilight fell on the small, quiet yard with a pond surrounded by green ferns. At times, there was an incomparable, mysterious silence there. I specially tried to choose moments to be alone there.

At first, after everyone left, we lived in some tension, which was explained by worries about my grandmother’s health and how we would cope here alone.

Soon, the situation stabilized and eased. My grandmother felt better. And we adapted to the new conditions quite well. True, I always felt a lack of the solitude that I loved so much. And I kept asking my aunt to let me stay home alone. My aunt kept not agreeing.

3.10. Preparation

And then, suddenly, I finally got lucky. My aunt announced that it was time for me to wash my hair. And this was the very reason to stay home and dry it. It was best to do this during the day, when it was hot, so that it would dry faster. Well, and it is clear that at this time everyone would go to the beach.

This hair washing also stuck in my memory. You could even say that a certain image appears before my eyes every time I wash my hair, to this day.

My aunt was, in my opinion, in some kind of furiously responsible state and was worried about washing my hair perfectly. There was no hot water; it had to be heated specially in a bucket on the stove. She even gave me the command to pick nettles in the yard, which, by the way, burned me, to give my hair shine (we didn’t even think about French shampoos and conditioners back then).

Then I combed my long, wet hair, which was a difficult task — one might even say a trial in the absence of conditioners to make this process easier — and my aunt took pictures of me and my cousin.

These photos have survived to this day. There, I deliberately hide the ends of my hair so that they don’t look so long in the photo.

In fact, hair, from an energetic point of view, is an antenna that allows you to read a lot of information from the subtle levels of the universe. And yes, I caught a lot of messages that cannot be conveyed in words, as I now understand, thanks to my hair. But in addition to hair, an experienced head would be useful, and at that time, unfortunately, I was sorely lacking this goodness.

3.11. A spoon of tar in a barrel of honey

Then I was left alone. And I sighed with relief. In solitude and silence, I seemed to come to life, spread my wings, and feel carefree and happy in the absence of other people’s influences.

True, there was still a spoon of tar in a barrel of honey. Almost closing the door, my aunt casually mentioned a trifle: that while she was gone, her colleague, whom she met when she was on a business trip in Leningrad, might drop by. He wanted to congratulate her on her birthday and bring a volume of poems by Marina Tsvetaeva, which my aunt loved very much and which he had difficulty obtaining especially for her in St. Petersburg.

I sat down in the courtyard on a bench next to a pond, thoughtfully sorting through the jewelry lying nearby on the table — torn beads, which I still could not completely restore.

Also in a separate bag were dried pumpkin seeds, which my cousin and I would string on a thread for fun to make a necklace, and a piece of intricate antique lace that my grandmother had once given me because I liked looking at it.

I almost managed to immerse myself in a serene state, but then anxiety struck me. I would have been much happier if I had NOT had to meet a stranger.

I started reading a book and was almost immersed in the plot when I heard extraneous sounds near the entrance gate. The head of a young man with slightly disheveled curly brown hair, about 15 years old, appeared above the gate; he was a relative of the hostess of the house.

He often came to visit. I opened the door for him and sat back down in the blinding sun to dry my hair, and the guy silently walked into the apple orchard and settled down in a tree in the depths of the garden.

Time passed, and I had almost calmed myself down by the thought that no one else would come today, and I almost completely relaxed. And at that very moment, the doorbell rang. Everything inside me went cold and shrank from a premonition of unknown danger. I opened the door.

3.12. A necklace of seeds — and beads and lace

A young man of about 27 years old, dressed in a light but formal business suit, came into the yard. The suit was clearly not cheap and sounded a little dissonant with the summer resort atmosphere. The young man said hello and asked for my aunt. Having learned that she was not there, he wanted to leave her a book as a gift and asked for a glass of water and the opportunity to take a break from the heat. However, he sat down on the same bench in the sun where I had been sitting and reading a book before his arrival.