Publisher KAA Publishing
When Katherine hypnotizes her daughter Jessica to pass a math quiz, the teenager reports seeing two angels who give her sage advice. With that, the gates of consciousness fly open and the realm of spirit bursts through, propelling the Agranovich clan on a rollercoaster ride full of mystical visions, spiritual insights and shocking premonitions. Tales of My Large, Loud, Spiritual Family offers hope, courage and inspiration to parents committed to raising their children as spiritual beings. The stories in this book will mystify you, enchant you, and change your view of family dynamics forever.
Incurable Condition Revealed by My Passport
“Zdravstvuyite!” I address the medical school admitting committee, whose five members sit behind a long, red-draped desk, and my voice echoes through the large, square room with students’ desks and chairs piled up against the walls. One of the committee members silently points to the lone chair in front of them. Nervously biting my lip, I sit on its edge, desperately searching for the slightest clue to the news they are about to deliver. But these men are so preoccupied with looking over my paperwork and my passport that my glance can’t penetrate their frozen faces.
Suddenly, the bomb explodes: “You are a Jew!" says one of them, his vodka-corroded face twisting into a grin, "and even though you've passed all your entrance exams, we cannot accept you.”
“You see, my dear,” another one leans toward me, hissing, “even if we educate you, you will probably flee Mother Russia to work for the filthy, capitalistic Americans.” He glares at me insolently, stripping me of my dream of becoming a doctor.
“Don’t cry,” I tell myself. “Don’t you dare cry in front of them!” I clench my jaw and squeeze my fists, but inside I feel exposed and humiliated, as if I am standing naked in front of these sweating, obscene faces. I take my passport, still opened to the page revealing my ethnicity – as if being Jewish is some kind of malicious disease – and my papers, stamped ‘REJECTED’ in blood-red ink, and leave the office. Tears roll down my cheeks and I am shaking. I wish my mom was here, but she is still with my dad in Siberia, on the air base where he's a pilot.
I barely remember the bus ride back to my grandma's, walking up to the third floor and entering an empty apartment where I burst into tears, sobbing the mantra, “It’s not fair.”
It’s been unfair for all these years, since I was eight-years-old and moved with my parents to a remote village up north, the only air base where my Jewish father was allowed to be a pilot. I didn’t belong there, in Siberia, and had only two names: City Girl and Dirty Jew. Dark memories flood my mind as I remember the time when, coming home from school, I saw sinister shadows on the porch. Helpless, I watched as two of them held my kitten up while the third cut her tail off…
From Chapter 10
From Doctor’s Diploma to Long-legged Stork
I storm into my hypnotherapy teacher’s clinic and slump into a chair by the door, panting like a race dog. My mind is on overload, running the ‘to do list’ for my upcoming business venture. I don’t even want to be here, but since I promised Dr. Cernie that I would attend her yearly automatic writing workshop, here I am.
“This is my favorite workshop,” Dr. Cernie is saying excitedly, passing around blank paper and pens. “You never know what will happen! Your subconscious mind is connected to the Universal Consciousness, which some people call God, you see.”
“No, I don’t see,” I think, sarcastically. “I know exactly what’s going to happen: Next month, I'm opening my holistic health center, going full speed – and nothing and no one can stop me!”
“So, this is how it works,” Dr. Cernie explains. “I’m going to hypnotize you, and while you’re in trance, your hand will automatically be writing messages from your subconscious mind. The information may come out as pictures, images or symbols.”
My stomach growls, I am so hungry. I doubt I can relax now, but as Dr. Cernie’s soothing voice begins the induction process, my hypnosis-prone mind gives in and I feel my muscles let go as I pleasantly sink into trance.
“As I count from ten to zero, your subconscious mind will open like a rosebud in spring, ready to convey its message through your hand and onto the paper… Five...” (My right index finger begins to flicker.) “Two… Impulses are surging from the inner mind into your brain… One… Your brain signals your hand to materialize them... And zero…”
The tip of my freshly-sharpened pencil touches the paper.
“Staying as deep as you are, begin drawing,” Dr. Cernie’s voice reaches me from a distance…
When I open my eyes, I am looking at a large, long-legged, long-necked wading bird with a stout bill belonging to the family of Ciconiidae, which, I am guessing, means "stork" in plain English. And all around this creature, my paper is covered with baby images ─ blankets, bottles, pacifiers, cradles, strollers and cribs.
This is so not happening, races through my head, as Dr. Cernie examines my art…
Eight weeks later, I am decorating my new office with balloons and promotional fliers, setting it up for the grand opening. As the clinic fills up with potential clients chatting with my staff of practitioners, I see Thelma, the computerized holistic body scan practitioner, approach my husband, Felix.
“Would you like a demo?” she asks.
Looking at me like a child being taken from his mommy, Felix follows her into a small room down the hall…
Ten minutes and five mini-bagels later, I spot Felix slowly walking out of Thelma’s office looking as if he’s seen a ghost – a whole family of them, in fact. Tactfully, Thelma stays in the room, peering out at us uncomfortably.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, licking cream cheese off my fingers.
Felix pulls me aside, whispering, “This energy scanner…” He stops abruptly, staring: “Why are you eating smoked salmon? You don’t even like it! ” he says in a panicky voice.
"I know, crazy, huh? I can’t help it!” I giggle.
“Katherine,” Felix’s eyes widen in terror, like a broker whose portfolio has just crashed, “the machine picked up in my energy system that WE ARE PREGNANT!”
With one finger still in my mouth, I freeze...
Next morning the blood test confirms it.
From Chapter 21
Boyfriend and Blue Alien in the House
“Guess what!” Jessica’s voice is bursting with excitement, “A senior just invited me to a dance!”
“What?” I snap out of my initial shock. “Do you know this guy?”
“C'mon, Mom, you know that everybody knows each other in our school.”
True. Small, private Jewish school ─ one big, happy, noisy clan.
But still. The left hemisphere of my brain, the area of strident logic, has already done the math: She's fifteen and he must be eighteen. A red flag appears before my eyes, waving impudently.
“So let me tell you what happened,” Jessica explains. “He's on our school’s basketball team, and I, as a part of my media class, was assigned to interview one of the basketball players and write about him for the school newspaper. Mom! He is the tallest guy I’ve ever seen!” Jessica’s voice rises with excitement as my nails dig into a sock from the laundry I’m folding. “Get this,” she continues, “he’s 6’5" and I am 5’1"! So I interviewed him and had my friend Kate take a picture of us, which the school paper ran with my story – and that's what he wrote the note on, asking me to the dance." Her voice peaks in excitement. "Mom! Isn’t he the cutest thing ever?”
I mumble something in a croaky voice as horrific images line up in my brain. My precious, innocent child is being mistreated, seduced, taken advantage of, and talked into doing something she’ll spend years in therapy for by some mammoth-size, hormonal teenager. I’m already planning the rescue mission: My husband and my oldest son, Eddy, will hunt this guy down. We'll get his parents and the principal involved in the intervention…
One night, I fall asleep wondering if going through some of life's dark passages is the result of our own ignorance and can be avoided, or if this must be experienced as part of our journey.
That night I have a nightmare. I am at a park, having a picnic with my family. It is such a pretty day ─ sunny, warm, and bright. Even the glittery-green grass is playing hide and seek with jumping sun bunnies dancing in unison with bluebells, cosmos daisies and yellow marigolds. I am lying on a blanket next to my husband. We are holding hands and exchanging tender whispers. The birds above are singing sweetheart tunes, dashing after each other in a love pursuit. Kids are giggling happily somewhere nearby, chasing butterflies and picking wild blueberries. There is only one fluffy cloud hanging motionless in the vibrant, blue sky, smiling down at us. Felix’s lips gently kiss my neck, his hand with a chocolate-dipped strawberry approaches my mouth, and he teases me just a bit before allowing me to bite into its delicious sweetness. Blissfully, I gaze into his eyes, lips open in a heavenly smile.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a black dot in the sky, right in the middle of the single cloud. I turn and squint, looking straight at it. With each blink the blotch grows larger, infecting the innocent cloud with its vile darkness. How strange, the thought lazily vibrates in my mind, but I am still smiling, holding my husband’s hand. Playful sunlight kisses my eyelashes and I close my eyes, breathing in its life-giving rays. But instead, chilling, cold air enters my nostrils, and gasping for warmth, I push the freeze deep into my lungs, heart, and then through my entire body instead.
Startled, I open my eyes. The white cloud has now been devoured entirely by a low-hanging mass of solid darkness, and with my every heartbeat, I see it distending lower, assuming the form of some gigantic, demonic creature, its massive black wings spread wide open, pushing the brightness of sunlight off to the side. Paralyzed, I watch this beast of darkness aiming straight for me…
“But wait,” I grin sarcastically, recalling one more nuance, “it gets even better. You’re not going to believe this...” I pause, looking away. “My friend’s mother from Armenia told me about some black magic spell that she learned from her grandmother, which supposedly cures demonic possession, which is what she believes I have.
Cynthia smiles slightly, listening intently.
Still looking away, I squeeze the words out: “She told me to collect dried-up dog poop from the backyard and bring it to her. I did, and she concocted a potion out of it with some herbs, pigeon feathers, and full-moon chanting.” Cynthia’s eyes widen in surprise, but she catches herself quickly, assuming a state of neutral compassion.
“The stench was radiating two blocks away when I brought this shit potion home.” I wince in disgust, remembering. “And I was...to pour this all over me after I take a shower. She swore it works every time,” I say quickly, “and so I did, puking for an hour afterwards and using up an entire bottle of shampoo washing the shit off. How idiotic and pathetic was that?”
For a moment, we just stare at each other until I break into nervous laughter, stopping abruptly. My facade of sarcasm is gone and my pain-filled eyes are begging for explanation. “Something is seriously wrong. I am dying, and no one can help me.” My lower lip quivers. “Cynthia, tell me!” I cry out, a mask of misery spreading across my face.
It must be something I said, because just then the lights on the ceiling fan start buzzing and with a soft puff go out. Cynthia’s eyes glow in the darkness, but there is no Cynthia-presence in them. I let out a shriek, seeing a blue, fluorescent-like ghost standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders.
“You are angry, I am sorry,” it speaks through Cynthia, and I cover my open mouth with both hands. “Your pain is real, but the suffering is self-induced and not necessary.” Its voice is sharp and direct, as if it ─ or he ─ is conducting a business meeting.
For a second, we just stare at each other, petrified me and curious him.
“I am a Thought Adjustor sent by the Mid-Way Council,” he explains. “I am responsible for correcting and repairing the blood crystallization levels of the ionized consciousness of human beings through their minds’ frequency attunements.”
I’ve never been so scared in my life. If I hadn't been paralyzed by shock, I would have hit the road running without looking back, forgetting all about alien-channeling Cynthia.
From Chapter 21
Life-changing Trip to Arizona
Seated on a Grand Throne of pure gold, lavishly embellished with eye-dazzling diamonds, rubies, sapphires and amethysts, she is wrapped in a pearl-studded shawl. Majestic flowers are woven into her endless rivers of gold hair, with hummingbirds nesting peacefully in her soft curls. Her garments are the colors of the rainbow, shimmering with brilliant specks of morning dew, and her presence magically expands through the translucent walls of the gazebo into eternity.
“Who are you?” I whisper in awe, staring into her eyes that blaze like a galaxy of stars.
“I am you,” She speaks softly, gracefully rising.
“I have something for you,” She says in a low, hypnotic voice, floating out of the gazebo and moving toward me.
I begin to shake, thinking, why do I always shake when something mystical happens – even in a dream? Maybe it's how my nervous system processes high vibrations, I answer my own question, shaking even more intensely.
She is coming closer now, and in her arms, close to her heart, I notice that she’s holding something−a small bundle, and it’s moving.
I gaze at it with wonder. Oops, a tiny foot is sticking out!
I move closer, looking more intently. The bundle keeps on moving, as She smiles blissfully, her auric field igniting in bright colors of pink and molten gold.
Oops, a little arm appears! It’s deliciously chubby.
She stops in front of me, immersed entirely in a fiery aura of love, and my heart fills with such warmth and joy.
Oops, a plump face with rosy cheeks and a toothless smile appears and is cooing heart-melting raspberries at me. At this point, my heart explodes with fireworks of love, and understanding follows: My Higher Self is introducing my future son to me.
My husband Felix makes a half-circle around me, and sits on the bed.
“The weirdest thing has happened to me,” he says, looking so pale that I think maybe I should go to the liquor store myself and get the poor man a hotdog and nachos.
“After a papaya-and-something bran shake,” he begins, wincing and releasing a burp, “I dozed off on the café’s patio. “He pauses, looking at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Maybe I’ve been around you for too long, but… I had a vision,” he utters the words as if they're Chinese.
Beginning to feel weird myself, I pull a chair up to the bed, anxious to hear his papaya-induced vision.
“It is freezing," he begins, pulling the blanket around him, “and the wet snow keeps on falling on the icy, naked ground. I see myself standing on the porch of a small wooden house. This is my house. There are Bolshevik soldiers in their red star, pointy hats and leather coats running from room to room, looking for something, someone…Two of them are holding me down with their guns. Paralyzed with horror, I’m helplessly watching my wife and my newborn son being grabbed from their beds, pushed and kicked out of the house, down the stairs, into the chill of the night. They’re about to be shot right in front of me, by the fence of our front yard. I am screaming. My wife presses the baby close to her chest and looks up at me. In her eyes, I see everything: horror and pain, intense grief for all the unlived, unfulfilled years as a mother and as my wife.
As the soldiers load their guns, she stands up tall and faces them directly. She hugs our son tighter and smiles slightly. In these final moments, her eyes fill up with some wild, bold, unexpected and completely out of place sense of peaceful surrender, as if she's allowed her faith to sweep her away to some place beyond death, where she is already welcomed by love. She looks at me one last time, and in this last moment of our connection, in her eyes…I see you.”
I release a gasp and burst into shivers− a sign that my body is confirming this unconscious memory.
“Katya,” Felix’s voice shakes and his eyes well up with tears, “I was watching you and our newborn son being shot and there was nothing I could do to save you…”
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Katherine Agranovich was originally trained as a Registered Nurse and worked in medical settings for over 10 years. She has a deep respect for the medical community. Years ago, through her daughter’s sudden health challenge, Katherine had a turning point in her career. This experience led her to the path of discovery and awareness of holistic health and healing concepts.