A life-changing request
This is way too much. After my grandfather’s last manifestation I couldn’t sleep at all. I stayed awake the whole night, squeezing my mind with so many questions. I’m not worried but I should say instead that I’m a little bit… hmmm… perplexed. Piazzolla’s music helped me to slow down a little, but my thoughts were bumping inside my head as a compass’ needle in the North Pole… I was lost for sure.
I wasn’t really awaiting another thrilling entrance, not at all. But finally there it was again. Five minutes ago Goldstein’s voice fractured the white noise and sentenced the most unexpected request:
“Sell the collection”.
Well, what to say? That will sure defeat several dilemmas with whom I struggled during the night. It was like if my grandfather knew which were my main questions: how to subsist without my full time job income.
To sell the Goldstein Collection…
This is crazy. But why am I smiling, then?
Amazed with recent EVP
Oh lord… I don’t know where to start and I can’t believe I’m going to write this…
Goldstein was here a couple of minutes ago. I was visualizing Internet videos, straying myself in YouTube’s massive archive. By the way, my goal still seems too far, almost unreachable: to find a lost footage that will reveal those dark aspects of my grandfather’s passing. The vintage Spica radio was On at that moment, pretty much as always. When, without any warning, I heard the voice (this time loud and crystal clear):
“Quit your job”, said Goldstein with a truly assertive emphasis.
His entrance left me petrified. But I managed to ask dubiously: “Do you mean this whole video search?”. 30 seconds later arrived the answer I was precisely fearing:
“No”, and that was all, at least for the next half hour.
I’m still amazed while I scribble this post. Although I must confess that Goldstein’s advice seems to me appealingly insane.
Everybody’s paranormal quest?
Today my grandfather made an ill-timed and therefore kind off brief entrance. But after all, I’m happy for his much expected return. I heard his voice early this morning, just when I was about to leave for work. He sounded distant, drowned by the usual stream of white noise, as if he was lacking strength to cross over the interference waves.
First I recognized an acrid moan that captured all my attention. The source of this eerie sound was undoubtedly human, so I left what I was doing and approached to the Spica. I waited for a couple of seconds but impatience won me over and I asked (rudely, I must confess): “So which is the video and who’s the bald man? Why don’t you just tell me what’s this all about?”. His answer arrived without further ado…
“Because you are not yet prepared”, said Goldstein and then added this cryptic phrase: “No one is”.
I sighed while grabbing my backpack: “I have to go now. I’m already late, you know…”. I stayed one or two minutes longer, when my grandfather finally gave me his consent, or sort of:
“I’ll wait”, he announced in a very low tone.
I turned the radio off and headed to the street, baffled with my own thoughts. From the beginning I felt this odd experience as a rather personal crusade. But now, his mention of that plural “no one” makes me wonder: Could this be a collective pursuit after all?
A new year, a new message
It’s funny how I got used to accomplish almost every single task with the white noise as my home’s perpetual background sound. The Spica is turned on right now, while I’m writing this post. That’s because I don’t want to miss a possibility to contact my grandfather. And I can’t know when a new contact will take place again.
This last Wednesday, for example, I was dining late at night, watching the news on the TV. Obviously, Goldstein’s vintage radio was also turned on. The news anchor said something about the Jewish New Year and was saluting the local Jewish community when, suddenly, the voice broke through the static:
“Today remember”, said.
I didn’t hear it quite well, since the inopportune loud sounds from the TV mantled my grandfather’s phrase. But that’s at least what I understood and, consequently, I turned off the TV without any delay.
The Jewish New Year is called in Hebrew both “Rosh HaShana” and, within some Talmudic and rabbinic literature, “Yom HaZikaron” (which means literally “Day of Remembrance”). So I instantly connected Goldstein’s command with the Holiday’s name. That’s why I replied: “A gut yor for you too”, a traditional Yiddish greeting for the occasion…
A couple of minutes later, I would say a quarter hour filled of constant white noise, the voice made again an entrance:
“The video veils certain answers”.
Well, this was the second time Goldstein mentioned something about a video. It can’t be a mere coincidence. No way. My grandfather’s voice vanished after this and did not return. Maybe the “remember” can be related to that “video” he made reference. I really don’t know. I must ponder his words… and act.
EVP audio uploaded
This is the first part of my EVP identity test, described in a previous post, where Goldstein hummed along to an Astor Piazzolla’s composition called Sleeping.
Click to download the audio file.
I also uploaded the second part of that same session. You can hear the voice stating clearly “Matit”.
You can find it here.
Identity confirmed!
I’m euphoric. The identity test gave positive results: the voice that I’m hearing through the vintage radio is Samuel Goldstein’s, my grandfather. The simple test, designed by Angel Manoukian and described below, worked almost instantly and the confirmation opened a whole new dimension for me. The voice apparition is a true paranormal phenomena, it can’t be hoax (nor a practical joke) of any sort and, foremost, is my grandfather himself to whom I listen to.
The basic idea behind this experiment was to use Goldstein’s most beloved tune (a beautiful tango by Astor Piazzolla) as a bait. When he was alive, my grandfather had a crush for that song. He used to say that this melody worked like a mantra, helping him to clear his mind and hummed along to it constantly. Angel thought that this tune could be an invitation and should attract Goldstein’s presence. Although very plain, this ingenious “musical call” approach succeeded in its goals.
The testing phase began at 12:30 AM approx. I turned on my grandfather’s Spica and left it on the table. Then I set the computer to play Piazzolla’s theme in an infinite loop. Finally, I brought another device to record the audio of the test.
The tango ended and started again twice, with the simultaneous white noise as a curtain in the back of the delightful harmony. Then, when it started for the third time, I felt a cold hand in my shoulder. Nobody was there, of course. It was just a fleeting but very vivid sensation. And almost instantly after that a subtle humming appeared within the interference. It was an articulated hum, undoubtly humane yet ethereal… The voice followed the melody as if the ghostly crooner knew it already. I smiled. That was an intense moment indeed.
After a couple of seconds the hum disappeared. I kept listening carefully, as always, but without any new contact. One hour later I decided to pause the song. 15 minutes after that, when I was about to power off the Spica I heard a clear whisper:
“Matit”
Just one word. The most personal word for me… And I must explain this. My name is Matias, the Spanish equivalent of Matthew, which is the English version of the old Hebrew name Matityahu. Matit, its contracted hypocoristic form, was the affectionate nickname invented by my grandfather to address me. That single word was all the confirmation I needed. One single word that changed everything. And I mean it. Everything.
EVPs finally returned
It happened around 1:30 AM. I was answering emails with the radio on when Balthazar, my cat, suddenly jumped over the table and started to meow relentlessly near the Spica. I left the computer and concentrated all my attention in the white noise. I even closed my eyes, trying to hear something below Balthazar’s fuss. For almost one minute nothing happened. But then, there it was again… I heard what I thought was a sibilant shush. I wasn’t sure what it was, at first. Because that sound was almost concealed within the white noise. The cat continued his crying although he seemed soothed by the whisper. And when a new exclamation blew in Balthazar stood still:
“Come”.
My cat’s big yellow eyes opened wide and stared manically at some spot just above the radio without even blinking. It seemed that he knew what to expect of such an apparition because he quieted down instantly. I walked towards the Spica and asked: “Who are you?”
His answer took half a minute of monotonous interference:
“Can’t you hear me?”
He, whoever it was, talked with an unearthly, paused tone: the voice sounded like being emitted through thick liquid or, maybe, emerging from the air itself. Balthazar curled up besides the device, when the entity added:
“You know me”
“Please. A proof… Please”, I said, “I need some sort of confirmation”. At that point, the white noise exasperated me like a swarm of wild mosquitoes. But I had no option but to listen carefully. And so I did for almost 45 minutes, when the voice made its last entrance with an exhausted laughter.
At least that’s what I think I heard. My cat slept beside the radio for the rest of the night.
An arcane message
It happened again, today. Early in the morning, while I was taking a shower, the bath lights suddenly went down and trembled with a very pale yellowish languor for about 10 seconds. I took that incident as a signal and hurry myself out of the bathtub, freezing my bones with the southern-hemisphere winter’s chilling air. I grabbed a towel and run almost naked to turn on the Spica. This time it was instantaneous: my grandfather spoke right away…
“Follow the path of the video.”, he said.
His message seemed to me sort of obscure. So I asked: “What do you mean?”.
Then nothing but the white noise. I know that this might sound absurd but for half a minute or so I felt Goldstein’s generous smile, as it were being emanated from the radio itself. I started to cry when his voice struck me as a thunderbolt:
“Don’t get too cold”, he said with what I thought was a sweet, playful intonation.
I waited for 30 minutes for another contact, dressing myself up in the meantime, but my grandfather didn’t come back.
A new message from the beyond
Goldstein was here. Finally, my grandfather visited me again about half an hour ago. It took loads of sleepless hours but it was worth the wait. My anguish vanished as soon as his voice stepped out suddenly, around 2 AM. His call sounded different this time, though, like being pulled from the inside, towards the Spica itself. If I must describe the odd sensation it gave me, I would say that it seemed to me like a record played backwards, although I recognized almost every word of the message:
“Patience” he said first. Then, a two or three minutes lapse of white noise. Afterwards he added: “Prepare yourself (…) perplexed”. This last sentence was divided with a deep guttural gasp that impeded me to understand it in full.
I feel quite well now that our communications occurrences were reestablished. But I need to calm down a little. I could use some rest, also.
Second contact through Electronic Voice Phenomena
I knew that the after-death communication I described in my first post couldn’t be a mere anomalous isolated incident. Deep in my heart I was sure about that. After having the radio turned on for a complete day I’ve confirmed my theory (or I better say my hunch): my grandfather spoke to me again.
I started this weblog to see if I can get my thoughts in order. I also want to record all our conversations, although it seems that they can’t be as fluid and prolonged as they used to be while he was alive. Goldstein was an illuminated talker and, foremost, a superlative listener. He had an incredible gift: to always deliver the right words at the right time. For what I see (taking into account both experiences: this second and the first one), he is now unable to articulate long speeches. I must do a research in the Electronic Voice Phenomena field in order to find out if this is a common circumstance when you carry out such a paranormal conversation.
I’m explaining the above because today he said only one word.
I was really tired at that time, sitting beside the radio for hours. It was very early in the morning so the silence was almost complete. When I say silence I mean that the neighborhood’s usual range of noise wasn’t there. Because, in fact, my head almost trembled with the high volume interference spitted by the AM receiver. The Spica remained untouched from yesterday’s contact so it was set at the same dial position. Maybe I should conduct some experiments regarding my grandfather’s voice reception at different frequencies. But not now, at least until I gain confidence with the technique involved in the instrumental transcommunication. I’m really afraid to screw everything all up if I change even a minimal disposition of the artifact and its context.
What happened this morning is that I finally ran out of strength and almost fell asleep. So I fixed myself a breakfast and after fueling me up, returned close to the radio. I must confess that I felt sort of disappointed: I’ve been hearing the white noise carefully for hours without any substantial result. Frustrated and bored, I grabbed my camera and took a spontaneous picture of the Spica to publish it on here. And there it happened again. It took me by extreme surprise: just after the flash lightened the room a sibilant cry surfaced the wall of nasty sound. It was an edgy, sharp scream that came out cutting the previous noise like a razor blade:
“Listen!”, he demanded.
Then nothing. Not even the white noise. For at least 10 seconds I felt the most compelling void around me. And then the interference made its reappearance.
That was all. And although that imperative my grandfather yelled may be interpreted as a rude complaint, it sounded so tender, in a way, that (at least for me) it wasn’t an admonishment nor a reproach, but more an admonition or, instead, a confirmation, a promise of future contacts.