Secrets of the dead Sophia Sans. Secrets of the Dead

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Sophia Sans
Secrets of the dead

This book was received through channeling with Ian's soul. Facts confirmed the authenticity of names and events.

Attention! This book has a special code.

The more times you reread this book, the faster all your problems will be solved!

Preface

I am a major expert in channeling. I was in a group in which we deeply studied the possibilities of hypnosis, including in terms of channeling, for which I had a great talent. The group consisted of large and well-known specialists in the Russian Federation in the field of hypnosis, where I perfectly mastered many of its methods.

So, one day, during a session of contact with disembodied souls, the soul of Ian, the young man who became the hero of this book, contacted me and asked me to outline his story of life and death. The result was a very vivid and unusual story about the afterlife, which was confirmed by my other contacts.

Ian also asked me to outline the end of his life, where he described his suicidal tendencies. At first I didn’t want it to be in my book. But Yang insisted, explaining that in this way many people who are prone to this will be able to realize and understand themselves better, which will help them avoid this tendency. In addition, this will allow people around them to understand them, which will also help reduce this phenomenon, because it arises in the process of people misunderstanding each other and themselves. After talking with many leading psychiatrists and psychologists who confirmed that this description would be useful in eliminating this problem, I left it in my book, as Ian asked. In addition, this book sheds light on the close connection with us beings of a subtle plane, which helps to understand the reasons for many psychological states and actions that a person commits under the influence of these creatures and the souls of deceased people, which is also very important for understanding the reasons for one’s thoughts and motives.

Sophia Sans

Chapter 1. Secrets of the dead

Jan walked through the cemetery among the graves and monuments strewn with yellow autumn leaves. It was cloudy. It was drizzling lightly. But he liked this weather. I liked wandering around the cemetery in peace and quiet, especially in the evening when there were no people there. He walked and thought about life and death.

Today he realized that he wanted to come here again to calm down the thoughts that were moving like dung beetles in his head, preventing him from falling asleep. Multi-colored leaves rustled comfortably under my boots, the wind threw them under my feet and covered other people’s graves. Light rain was falling from the sky, and he raised his head up, trying to catch a drop with his lips. Wet leaves fell on someone's engraved faces and photographs, on the letters of epitaphs, on the black marble of monuments. All this was probably beautiful, but now this beauty only prevented him from concentrating.

Sometimes he stopped, smoked and read the inscriptions, peered at the dates of death. For some reason this was important. “Ivanova Tatyana Ivanovna, was born in 1918, and died in 1999. Well done, Tatyana Ivanovna, you lived a long life. In this life there were revolutions, wars, probably evacuation or occupation, there was post-war famine and rationed bread. You, Tatyana Ivanovna, did not live, but survived, and the thoughts that settled in mine probably never entered your head. And here is a child’s grave: Seryozha Stepanov. You, Seryozha, are lucky, you didn’t understand anything. He came here, smiled and left. I think you have not yet understood that life is a real hell. Here I am, Seryozha, still very young, one might even say young, but I no longer want to live at all. I'm tired of all this, Seryozha, you know? No, you, Seryozha, definitely won’t understand me, but Tatyana Ivanovna – she could. Although…

“Here, I’m so young,” he thought, “but I don’t want to live anymore, I’m tired of it. This is probably strange. Adults say that I’m a loser, but I’m not the only one. And now whole goth and emo movements are appearing. They are also in a similar state, they write poetry, sing about death, about not wanting to be in this world. Why is that? After all, this never happened before. Apparently, this world has completely rotten, has become false, artificial. So more sensitive people like me, like emos and goths, don't want to live in this dead, plastic world among dead people who live like zombies, like robots, and don't want to wake up from their sleep. They are lying. They constantly lie and pretend that everything is fine. But everyone already understands that the world is heading towards destruction. But they put on rose-colored glasses and don’t want to see the truth, to see everything as it is, as real.”

It became dark, the rain intensified, Ian raised his collar to protect himself from the cold drops, and walked towards the exit, following the familiar tombstones with his eyes.

“It’s good for them, it’s all over for them, but I still have to suffer. And it’s not clear what to expect,” he thought.

* * *

In an empty hall on a small stage at the institute, the amateur group “ChP” was rehearsing. Music for the guys was more a means of self-expression than an attempt to attract attention. Ian, the lead singer of the group, a tall blond man with long hair and blue eyes, played the guitar and sang in an otherworldly rock-style voice:

This is not for you: the mother’s womb is a tight, tight bag.
This is not for you: incessant births are a terrible shock.
This is not for you: growing pains when you can't walk.
This is not for you, but we still managed to please you
In this mortal world, in this long captivity,
Don't pass by big problems.
To be here, ruining your life -
It's not for you! It's not for you!

Yan’s girlfriend, Inna, sat in the hall and watched his performance. She always sat here because it was where Ian noticed her immediately and knew that she was listening to him.

Inna fell in love with him at first sight and now, when their romance had lasted for more than a year, she again thought about how much she loved him. She loves him, but he wants to die. The thought of this made her feel so sad that she almost burst into tears. She lowered her head and looked at her hands. “Everything will be fine,” she muttered out loud and looked back at the stage.

Ian sang, looking somewhere in front of him, plucking the strings with his thin fingers. In response to his words, someone in the hall clapped, and Inna recognized one of Ian’s friends - it seems his name was Sasha. Ian said about Sasha that he loves weed more than girls. Ian himself also didn’t refuse a joint, so Inna thought that today’s evening would end traditionally: the guys would smoke weed and pretend to talk about the meaning of life. In fact, each of them told the other about the meaninglessness of their own existence and was looking for a fulcrum - that point that Inna found only after meeting the teacher. But Ian was not interested in such simple and clear paths. He preferred to think that life was a movement to nowhere.

Lately, Inna has often thought that she is not holding Ian, but clinging to him. She reminded herself of a stupid fish that had grabbed a sharp hook. This hook scratched her throat, and she wanted to cry more and more.

“You know, Jan,” she sometimes wanted to tell him, “you’re not the only one who sees this meaningless emptiness in front of you, I myself encountered it at the age of fifteen, when one night I woke up from a strange sensation.” My whole body ached, blood rushed to my head. It seemed like I couldn't breathe. Then I sat down on the bed and thought that I was going to die right now. And this was some kind of easy saving thought...

After that, Inna cut off her bangs with a razor, dyed them pink and began to line her eyes with black mascara. The parents were shocked: what was this, their daughter looked like a stuffed animal! She began to listen to strange howls, which she called music, and the ragged rhythms of this music were constantly heard from her room. And it seemed to Inna then that she had found what she was looking for. Love, tears and death - all this, if you think about it, is very similar. She met the same guys and girls. They smoked weed and talked a lot about themselves, listening little to each other. Almost all of the girls suffered from anorexia. They talked about the cult of a thin body, and soon Inna also almost stopped eating. First, the arms became thinner and became like knotted ropes, then the stomach collapsed and the ribs came out. Inna began to resemble a small unfortunate ghost with a red mouth and sunken eyes.

This went on for more than a year. Her parents dragged her to psychotherapists, and she hid the food they fed her at lunch and then quietly threw it in the trash. Psychotherapists talked to her about responsibility and love, she laughed - what do these fat, sad women know about love? It was funny, really, funny until she met Ian.

She fell in love with him from behind. He had very straight shoulders and blond hair that easily touched those shoulders. For the first time, she wanted to touch someone's hair, bury her face in it, inhale the smell. Then he turned around, and she gasped, meeting his blue, sad eyes.

She remembered how she stopped then, clutching her throat. She seemed weak and helpless. However, that's how she was. It remains that way.

When she spoke to him a week after their first fleeting meeting, he looked at her gloomily and replied that he was not interested in weaklings like emos, even if they were girls.

“I’m not a weakling,” Inna answered.

“Well, prove it,” he mockingly looked down at her, but there was still melancholy in his eyes.

“Like melt water,” she thought, peering into his face, and then sharply bent his head towards her and kissed Ian on the lips.

How she decided to do this, Inna still did not understand. He was embarrassed: she saw how at the first moment Ian recoiled in surprise, but the very next moment he pulled her towards him and returned the kiss.

That's how it all turned out. Now Inna looked at Ian from the dark hall and remembered their first night. The parents went to the dacha, and she called him over. Ian arrived, and already at the first moment, opening the door for him and looking into his dilated pupils, Inna realized that he had swallowed wheels. Since then, she was no longer surprised - drugs had long become a part of their sex, their love.

“They really make me sick,” Ian explained to her, but she, ever since Kalki appeared in her life, knew that it was something completely different that made her sick.

Then, on their first night, he was rude, impatient and cheerful. Ian tore her clothes off, bit her on the shoulder and laughed all the time. She did not resist, because her soul, her body had been waiting for this moment for a long time, that her head could barely comprehend anything. She remembered how he kneaded her breasts in his hands, as if not knowing what to do with them.

“I love you,” she whispered, in order to somehow soften his harsh pressure, but these words inflamed Ian even more. He threw her onto the bed and entered abruptly, not paying attention to her pain. Inna pursed her lips so as not to scream and wrapped her legs around him.

Then Ian apologized for a long time and hugged her, but Inna did not believe him.

This is how their next meetings went. Melancholy was tearing him apart from the inside, and he fought against this melancholy as best he could, hurting the girl, demanding money for the next dose, or desperately pressing her to the bed, forcing her to completely submit to his rage.

Too much rage, too much melancholy: he, like a moth, stubbornly flew towards the fire, but this did not bring him relief.

She looked at him from the dark hall - Ian stood in the very center of the light.

“Like an angel,” she whispered and grinned. Inna again plunged into memories. This time her memory replayed the scene of the first time he came to her, demanding money. She tried to explain to Ian that there was no money - her parents did not spoil her, they allocated one hundred or two hundred bucks in rubles once a month, which she usually immediately gave to him. But that time he didn’t want to listen to anything: “Bitch, rubbish! - he yelled. “Give money away, you dirty bitch!” She didn’t cry, she just looked into his eyes, but saw only senselessly dilated pupils and a thin blue vein protruding on his forehead.

-What are you looking at? - he asked suddenly, then grabbed her pink bangs and pulled her down. She slammed her face into his knee, blood pouring out of her nose. Inna tried to place her hands under the thin stream, but her hands shook and blood flowed onto the floor, spilling into a pink puddle at her feet.

“It’s the same color as my bangs,” Inna thought then, and she vomited.

A week later they made up. She was still surprised how she was able to forgive Ian. But she forgave, probably thanks to the teacher, and never reminded Yan of that dirty story. Only she dyed her bangs dark blond, and now she looked like an exemplary girl. Especially next to him.

Inna knew that she could not stop him, she felt that he loved her differently than she imagined in her romantic teenage dreams. So what? She didn't care. She had long stopped caring what her parents and few friends thought. And with the appearance of Ian, Inna had almost no friends left. He demanded everything. Time, emotions, energy. Sometimes the girl thought that she was so tired of all this that she was ready to tell him to go to hell and just relax. But Ian came, smiled with his lips, hugged her, pressed her to him, forcing her to inhale the familiar smell of his youthful body, and she forgot about everything. And she looked at him, and he looked into space, as in the song of a tired bard.

* * *

After the impromptu concert, the friends sat down and, smoking a smoking mixture, talked and laughed loudly.

Inna walked up to Ian and took his arm. He smiled when he saw the girl and put his arm around her shoulders.

“I saw you,” he whispered in my ear.

“And I you,” said Inna and, openly, kissed him.

The guys lit a joint and passed it around. Inna refused, pressing herself even closer to Ian. At such moments, she thought that nothing could separate them. But Ian was no longer interested in her. He argued with Vanya, who played drums in their group.

“Everyone can decide whether to be or not to be,” Yang fumed.

“Well, you’re just like Hamlet,” Vanya laughed.

– What does Hamlet have to do with it? – Ian twitched, and Inna realized that he was truly angry. – We have the freedom to choose to live or die. And this must be decided first of all, whether it is worth being here or not, where all around there are lies of politicians, dirt, betrayal, exploitation of people. What kind of world is this? But we still live without war and famine, but people still suffer and suffer. Why is all this?

“Ian, calm down,” Anton told him, clapping him on the shoulder. – I see you’ve completely smoked. Here, take an Amphetamine tablet, eat it, and have some fun.

And he handed him the dope.

“No, don’t,” Ian pushed his hand away. - This won't help. I will still see everything realistically. You are simply not mature yet, still wearing rose-colored glasses. And I took them off.

Suddenly the door swung open, and the dean of their faculty entered the hall and, noticing that the guys were very high, began to drive them out of the hall. Grabbing an ashtray full of cigarette butts, he threw it into the trash can with a precise throw, and then, turning to the guys, muttered through his teeth:

– What are you doing here!? Get out immediately! I will report to the rector about your behavior and call your parents!

At that moment, he saw Inna, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide behind Ian’s back.

– And you, Inna, you’re a good girl! – there were some crying intonations in the dean’s voice. – What are you doing with these scum!?

Yang could not stand this tirade and blurted out in the dean’s face:

– I’m not going to study at your institute at all! So don't waste your money. What are you teaching here!? I want to become a millionaire, how can you teach this!? I want to be healthy, happy, and be able to meet girls. What are you teaching?!

The dean was slightly taken aback by this attack, but objected:

“We are giving you a profession so that you are not a laborer, but can work normally and advance in your career.”

“It’s normal to work…” Ian mimicked him. - Yes, half of the graduates cannot get a job, since all the places are taken, and they join the ranks of the homeless or work in other professions!

The rest work all their lives for three kopecks! I don't need an education that can't give me anything! I'm leaving!

“Well, go away,” the dean grabbed the door handle. – Why do we need a drug addict?

“Come on, Ian,” Inna pulled him by the hand. - Why are you making trouble again?

“Okay,” Yang said. - Goodbye! - and, cursing and spitting in the corner, he and his friends left the hall.

- Well, you gave it to him! – Anton said joyfully, turning to Ian.

“I think so too,” Kirill noted. “If it weren’t for Rodaki, I would have left this damn university a long time ago.” Smart people studied with bad grades and became billionaires, while excellent students live their whole lives on one salary or become homeless.

Inna was worried that Ian would do something in this state, and decided to walk him home.

- Yang, shall we go to your place? – she suggested.

“Okay, let's go,” he said. - Pokedova to everyone!

Going out into the street, the friends said goodbye and went home.

* * *

Inna lay down next to Ian, hugged him, pressed herself, still trying to hold him, to pretend that nothing had happened. Very soon she fell asleep, tired from the events of this difficult day.

She had a dream. In this dream she was told that Ian had died. The policewoman who reported this had a glassy look.

“You must come to the identification parade,” she said.

Inna was scared. In a way that has never happened in my life. She found herself in a cold morgue, where all the dead had numbers written on their heels: 1, 2, 3, 4... Inna felt dizzy, she grabbed the cold wall so as not to fall.

“This is not the place for you,” the woman said indifferently and pushed her towards the white door.

Inna grabbed the handle, slowly opened the door and went inside. There, on a table covered with some kind of torn oilcloth, sat a baby. He had fluffy blond hair and huge blue eyes. Seeing Inna, he joyfully smiled with his toothless mouth and extended his hands to her.

- It is he? – the woman asked sternly.

“Yes,” Inna shouted, “Yan, Yang, Yang!”

When she woke up, she saw that Ian was not nearby. Inna touched the crumpled pillow and hugged it, still under the impression of her own dream. It was four in the morning. The light of the moon, filled like an Antonov apple, blinded my eyes. Inna got out of bed and quietly crept into the corridor.

Chapter 2. Suicide

Ian loved Inna, but he loved his own melancholy more. After his first failed suicide attempt, when he swallowed pills, Ian thought about death all the time. He cheated on Inna with her, imagined himself plunging into her, as if into viscous darkness, and increasingly came to the idea of the meaninglessness of human existence.

Today's conversation with the rector finally finished him off. After waiting for Inna to fall asleep, he lay next to her for some time, listening to her even breathing.

“Forgive me,” Ian said quietly and tiptoed into the bathroom.

Ian locked himself in the bath, drew warm water, lay down in the water and, taking a razor, slashed it across his arms, opening the veins.

“This is the end,” he thought.

Blood flowed down his hands into the water. He took another drag on his cigarette and, putting on his headphones, began listening to his favorite song from Gradsky’s “Rock” concert:

I came into this world completely blind,
They didn’t ask for consent, they pushed me into the world.
All promises vanished like smoke.
The candle of hope has been blown out by the stench!
I won't stay long in this world.
With this message I say goodbye to you.
I smile at you with the smile of Gioconda.
I'm not at all afraid of losing my life...

He took another drag, the dope began to take effect, and it seemed to him that he was swimming in a leaden sea, bloody snakes were crawling out of his hands and swimming away. His body disappeared and he became molten lead. The mind has broken up into hundreds of pieces of individual thoughts, it is not there, it is just a look, a vision and nothing. A strange word sounded, shimmering with a thousand shades: lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy... Everything became unreal, he fell into some kind of darkness...

When Inna saw the closed door, she immediately understood everything. I woke up Jan's parents. Pale as a sheet, she stood and watched as they broke open the door and burst into the bathroom... Ian lay in the red water with his eyes closed and smiled. Inna quietly took off his headphones.

You are destined forever by fate
Carry a heavy cross of obedience.
Doubts are filled with bloody sweat.
And what happens next is all the same.
I open my veins with a blade,
I go where the wings take me.
I don't force myself.
Accept, Jesus, I am moving towards You! -

rushed from there. Inna grabbed her head, quietly sank onto the cold white tiles and closed her eyes.

* * *

Ian woke up in a hospital bed with a drip.

“I’m alive again,” thought Ian.

- Bastards, you brought me back to life again! – he screamed and began to struggle, but his arms and legs were tied to the bed.

“I’m in a madhouse again,” Ian thought, gnashing his teeth.

- Untie me, you bastards! - he yelled.

Ian twitched and arched on the bed, trying to untie his hands.

A doctor came to the cry and gave him an injection.

- Stop calming me down! Let me die the way I want... - he fumed, falling into sleep...

The next day, sitting opposite a psychologist in a straitjacket, he shouted:

- What do you need? I will decide for myself how to live or not! Im free person!

“Think about your parents,” the psychologist exhorted Yan.

– What should I think about them!? They just forbid me everything and force me to do what I don’t want: study, work! They don’t let you live with a girl, they don’t let you listen to music loudly at night, or use drugs! I didn’t ask them to give birth to me, let them not interfere in my life!

“Think about it, suicide is a sin,” the psychologist admonished.

- Sin? – Yang retorted ironically. - These are the priests’ inventions, so that everyone is afraid to leave the game and work as a laborer for their uncle! And God, where is he!? There is only one piece of shit going on in the world: wars, revolutions, pogroms, terrorism, crime, hunger, disease, poverty, lies from politicians, drunkenness! It looks like either God doesn't care about us or he's dead! I don't want to live in such a world! And you!? What is keeping you here!? Fear of death? Or an illusion that things will get better soon!? And nothing holds me back anymore! So come on, untie the straitjacket!

The psychologist waved his hand tiredly, the orderlies came up and again injected him with antipsychotics...

Sophia Sans

Secrets of the dead

This book was received through channeling with Ian's soul. Facts confirmed the authenticity of names and events.

Attention! This book has a special code.

The more times you reread this book, the faster all your problems will be solved!

Preface

Sophia Sans

Chapter 1. Secrets of the dead

Forgive me, teacher! I realized that I was a complete fool when I left you! I laughed at Shukra and Nanda at one time and thought: what else are they missing? We live like paradise, travel to beautiful places. You teach us, organize such incomparable theaters that I have not seen anywhere. But still, male conceit got to me. It would be easier for us men to learn from you, if you were a poor ascetic, there would be nothing to envy and compare with. And you are a tantric, you have so much gold, so many beautiful women. Nanda, and many came to study with you, hoping that having mastered magic, they would also be successful. But it was a stupid goal. Although you said that the main thing is to be detached from all worldly patterns, from comparison, who has more of what, especially from resentment and envy. But many did not understand this. We did not understand that your luxury is a situation created by God in order to reveal all our abomination and so that when we see it, we say goodbye to it. But we clung to this manure and instead of gaining something, we lost everything. At first I tried not to think about it, not to compare, I even laughed at those who envied you. It was already very good for me, I was with you all the time, driving you around in your luxury cars. You were so kind to me, constantly caring for me, entertaining me. But you and Muta gave us the task of learning how to meet women, since our envy was precisely in our weakness and helplessness, we didn’t even know how to get to know each other: me, Shukra, Nanda. And Muta lived with Shunya - so nasty that he couldn’t even have sex with her and, lying in the corner on a dirty mattress, masturbated, leafing through porn magazines. You wanted to help get us out of this state, but we were so cowardly and repressed that we sat like doves with each other all the time and only complained that we were kept as children and were not forced to force women to serve us. Shukra and Muty began to say that they needed to leave school in order to become real men. They left, but nothing has changed, both continue to masturbate, right in front of their pathetic women. I drove your luxury car, but I couldn’t approach anyone. But whores began to approach me, thinking that I was the owner of the car, and I had a lot of money. But I had nothing, and they left. Then, instead of learning how to get acquainted, I began to blame you for not giving me money, whores, although what kind of practice would it be if I just went to a brothel - there is no overcoming myself. I was angry with you - these thoughts completely made me a fool, just the kind that I used to laugh at and parody in skits in the theater. But God played his own joke on me. I was terribly identified that I should have a woman, and then my sister introduced me to a single mother with three children. She seemed to be young and still pretty, but naive. Didn’t she see what a fool I was, that I would never become Carlo’s dad, I couldn’t even support myself. Well, in general, we started trying to have sex with her. But, oh, horror, I discovered that I don’t have it. We tried both blowjob and horse motivator - nothing worked, I was in a panic. I became so identified with the idea that I must, like you, have many women, that the thought that I was impotent simply robbed me of the meaning of life. Then I rented out my shack for six months, used all the money to hire three of the best whores and decided, apparently, the problem was with my partner, she was bad. And now everything will work out with whores. But nothing happened here either. The whores were tipsy, and I appeared so upset and funny, tugging at my pussy, that at first they stood strong, but then they couldn’t stand it and started laughing at me. But instead of looking at myself from the outside and laughing along with them, I became embittered at you, looking for a reason somewhere outside, but not in myself. I went to doctors, but in vain. God showed me that there is a lot of joy in life besides this, but I didn’t want to understand anything. I even wrote a letter to you under a false name and received an answer, the essence of which was that if you don’t want to go to the toilet, don’t torment one place. And then I couldn’t stand it and hanged myself. And only now, in the world of the dead, it dawned on me how stupidly I had been identified, and instead of learning and enjoying life, I created a molehill out of a molehill. Forgive me, teacher, I want to be your student.

All rights reserved. Reprinting, film adaptation or other reproduction of part or all of the work, as well as conducting practical seminars, lectures, trainings on the book without the permission of the author is prohibited

Attention! This book has a special code. The more times you reread this book, the faster all your problems will be solved!

This book was received through channeling with Ian's soul. Facts confirmed the authenticity of names and events.

Cover designer Dmitry Vitalievich Momot

ISBN 978-5-4474-9274-8

Created in the intellectual publishing system Ridero

Secrets of the Dead

Preface

Chapter 1. Secrets of the dead

It became dark, the rain intensified, Ian raised his collar to protect himself from the cold drops, and walked towards the exit, following the familiar tombstones with his eyes.

“It’s good for them, it’s all over for them, but I still have to suffer. And it’s not clear what to expect,” he thought.

When you can't walk.

In this mortal world, in this long captivity,

Don't pass by big problems.

Yan’s girlfriend, Inna, sat in the hall and watched his performance. She always sat here because it was where Ian noticed her immediately and knew that she was listening to him.

Secrets of the dead Sophia Sans. Secrets of the Dead

Sophia Sans
Secrets of the dead

Preface

Chapter 1. Secrets of the dead

* * *

* * *

* * *

Chapter 2. Suicide

* * *

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