Page 304 - The Mirror of My Soul. Vol. 1

Nicolai Levashov. The Mirror of My Soul. Vol. 1. Born in the USSR

37. The silver thread

Well, our “friends” tried to do their best not “to bore” us. After the stormy events
of the end of August, the situation calmed down for some time. This did not mean that

the Dark left us alone— simply there were no serious attacks. Most likely they retreated
to invent more effective methods of destroying us.

Svetlana almost every night roved about Universe. After I transformed her spirit,
she was not tied to her physical body with “a leash” anymore. The connection with the
physical body, nevertheless, existed, but on a fundamentally new basis. Usually, if the
spirit of a person goes out of the physical body, it cannot get through the qualitative
planetary barriers and move away from the body to a distance greater than the so-called
silver thread which binds the spirit to the body allows.

The further from the physical body, the thinner the silver thread and at a certain

distance it becomes so thin that it can break! This sometimes happens, when
inexperienced people try to go out of the body or are carried away after going beyond
its limit. This can be compared to diving deeply in the sea, when a person sees something
interesting or beautiful on the seabed and tries to get it. Sometimes he may succeed in
doing this. However, he should not forget that he must come back and that he can be
easily mistaken when estimating the distance under water.

It can happen that a person dives and gets a cockleshell, but has not enough air to
come back to the surface. It is not a theoretical example, I personally experienced this.
In the middle of July, 1986, before I began my service in the Army, I had gone to the
Black Sea coast for the first time in my life. I stayed in the small town of Sudak. It turned
out that, although I was born in the North Caucasus almost equidistant from the Black
Sea and the Caspian Sea, I had visited neither of them till 1986, because when my parents
had their summer holidays, our family always went to the Kundruchenski Farmstead, in
Rostov, where my maternal grandmother lived and worked as a bee-keeper. The Salskie
steppes were magnificent, but there was no sea there, neither natural, nor artificial. But
there were some very good ponds with pretty clean, slightly bitter water. These ponds
were where I learned to swim pretty well.

When I got to the sea for the first time, everything seemed to me a wonder. The

seabed near Sudak was stony and therefore the water was very clean. One sunny day I
dived to get a beautiful cockleshell from the seabed. To do this I had to go deeper and
deeper. And when I finally got what I wanted, I began to surface and felt that there was
no air left in my lungs.

I swam upwards as quickly as I could, the sea surface seemed to be very near—just
stretch a hand and you would reach it—but in reality it was much further away. I already
had nothing left to breathe with, but my eyes said to me—a little more and you will be
able to breathe! But this “little more” still did not come. Thus I learned the first lesson
of optical illusion under water. I succeeded in restraining my reflex desire to breathe at
any cost, reached the surface and was able to breathe air I longed for so desperately.

When you submerge in water, you get into a world very different to our usual “air-
breathing” one. If the water is transparent enough and the seabed is rich and bright, when
you get into this enigmatic world, you completely lose the notion of time and space. It
happened to me and I think that everyone who has dived, at least once, has also
experienced this. I am mentioning this for a reason. When a person abandons his physical

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