DIARY BETWEEN WORLDS

CHAPTER 5

The Message

That day, I had a dream.

I found myself in a place that at first seemed ordinary, like an apartment – perhaps my grandmother’s, where she had once lived. I felt that I was on a journey, somewhere my soul had come to that night.

I was not alone. My grandmother was there too. We sat together peacefully, and between us there was neither time nor distance.

But the space around us began to change. At first, the changes were barely noticeable, and then they became stronger and stronger.

And I felt that there was something else beyond this place, as if another world existed behind the visible layer. This world was deeper, but my grandmother was beside me.

Through her presence, I felt that she was passing something on to me. Not through words. It was like a kind of knowledge that cannot be explained – something we come to understand with time.

When I woke up, a feeling remained inside me. A feeling of peace, warmth, and something alive.

And with it came one word – love.

Love is not something temporary. It remains. It is preserved. it lives.

At the time, I wrote it down as the word of the day. But now, with time, I understand that it was not just a word. It was a continuation. A continuation of something that was already within me. And perhaps something that had existed long before me.

Some time later, I found a book.

It had been sitting on my shelf. I had never really noticed it before, I had simply carried it with me whenever I moved.

This book had been in my grandmother’s apartment, and after she passed away, it came to me as part of what she left behind. I had never opened it before, perhaps because I was not ready for it.

I began turning the pages, one after another, and suddenly I noticed markings, underlined sentences, places where it seemed as through someone’s eyes had once paused.

And I began to collect them.

I collected them like pieces of a puzzle. I was not simply reading. I was putting them together – phrase by phrase, her marking by marking, thought by thought. As if someone had left them there for a reason. As if it were a message. A message that had to be pieced together.

When I put everything together, I understood that it was not simply a text.

It was a voice.

My grandmother’s voice.

“Human life is a journey, and everyone who comes into this world must walk it for themselves. Each of us had a choice – to follow the path of goodness or the path of destruction. Only the human heart determines where we direct our steps.

Remember: within each of us there is a source of goodness, and a person must preserve it, without surrendering themselves to fear, envy, or anger.

When faith is strong, a person is not left alone, even in the most difficult situations.

Take care of your family, because family is the root from which life grows.

It is not pride that makes a person strong, but humility.

The soul is immortal, and the greatest adornment of a person is gentleness.

Do not hurt one another with words, because a word can wound more deeply than an action.

And remember the most important thing: love is not something temporary. It remains. It is preserved. It lives.”

When I brought together all her notes in the margins and everything she had underlined, I understood that it was not a coincidence.

My dream was not a coincidence either.

Those words, my grandmother’s book – all of it was one and the same.

And then, for the first time, I truly felt it:

We do not lose those who came before us.

They continue within us – in our words, in our choices.

And perhaps this is how strength is passed on.