Bridge of Souls

By Angela M DiMaggio

Bridge of Souls is a fascinating and endearing story about an Italian Nonna's past and her great granddaughter finding her true destiny. It is a creative blend of spiritual, paranormal, and a very bizarre love/hate relationship involving psychological domination. There are chilling hidden dangers when people depend on psychics for answe

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing Group
• Release date: Jul 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9780989106306

Angela M DiMaggio

Angela DiMaggio is a well-known educator, photographer, writer, philanthropist, community activist, parent, and an inventor in Arizona. Over the years she has counseled and helped thousands of people locally and nationally on a variety of situations. To date she has traveled extensively to over 18 countries. Her favorite places besides Italy, are Paris, The Greek Islands and exotic Istanbul. She has an insatiable appetite for studying world history, collecting art, learning different languages and European cultures. Besides her passion for writing, she loves cooking great Italian food and being the owner of amazing labradoodles and a very big tortoise.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

SINCE THE BEGINNING of time, there have been examples and demonstrations of the fascinating natural abilities of certain people who were able to lapse into a deep state of trance. In Egyptian history, only a few of the exalted ones practiced this holy falling state of mind. Incredible and miraculous messages were delivered to the courts of the highest pharaohs while these individuals lingered in unconsciousness. Kings and queens religiously governed, conquered and lived by the sole guidance of their special seers. Their belief in the afterlife, the powerful spirit-world influences, and constant demonstrations of spirit communication was unshakable. Today, many people consider those seers of yesteryear to have been some of the first recorded spiritualists in history. They refer to those trances as a kind of sacred sleep.

Throughout time, literature, both ancient and modern, has been laced with instances of the communication gained through people who tranced. The mystical writings of many Eastern sects can be attributed to people demonstrating trance mediumship. Numerous religious philosophies have foundations based on revelations by people who tranced. The world-renowned Edgar Cayce delivered tremendous messages that helped humanity when he fell into the state of trance. Even in today's Christian bible, you can find trances mentioned in Numbers 24:4; Acts 10:10, 11:5, 22:17; and Corinthians 12:2–4.

Although strongly evident in history, this phenomenon has never really been studied or completely understood by theologians, scientists, or psychologists. Not even today's parapsychologists have explored the depths of a mind in a trance state. The phenomenon remains an enigma, pretty much shrouded in old-time theories, surrounded by skeptics and many strange, questionable mysteries.

A dictionary describes it as a state of altered consciousness resembling sleep, during which all voluntary movement is lost, as in hypnosis. This abnormal state of mind could be induced or spontaneous. Some studies show, and it must be noted, that a drastic state of dissociation can also be involved with it. In relinquishing a person's physical body, their mind can displace, or worse, drastically dethrone. Those individuals can then be utilized and allegedly become possessed by a disincarnate spirit. The control of this invited internal force virtually becomes the expressed clairvoyant. In short, a medium who practices deep trance can be physically tossed aside. They can be used, manipulated for the supposed transmission of communication from the spirit world or the dead, or worse, from entities from the unknown.

In the old nineteenth-century days of spiritualism, forms of this trance were widely practiced. Home circles, known as séances, were intriguing to many and practiced prevalently. Those advanced mediums specializing in trance were sought after and held in esteem. Our own President Lincoln and his wife were strong believers in spirit communication. They frequently held séances featuring mediums in hopes of gaining some information from the beyond. Prominent doctors, scientists, and common folks attended séances with great fascination and regularity. They were in awe of such sacred abilities. People loved seeing the medium physically and mentally take a freefall dive into subconsciousness. Many people were comforted and guided by their messages. And then, there were many fake mediums who just pretended to trance. They eventually were exposed, ridiculed, and branded as fraudulent charlatans. Some were tarred, feathered, and run out of town. Many people feared them and thought they were true handmaids of the devil. They called them Lucifer's puppets. The question is, were they all imposters? Doesn't the word imposter imply one who copies? The antithesis then, should naturally be that there may have been an authentic or an original trance medium around somewhere.

There are many different levels of this altered consciousness. Don't just equate trance only to visionaries and clairvoyants. Little children and people of all ages can be very prone to daydreaming. Sometimes people can find themselves deeply entranced in thought or prayer. Meditation, biofeedback, and yoga are light forms of self-induced trance. Hypnosis is a similar trance state. Artists, writers, musicians, and inventors can all attest to experiencing entranced periods of inspiration in which many creative works materialized.

Today, there is one last facet of trance that is surrounded by real confusion and great controversy. Some physicians and psychologists say that trance is a form of catalepsy. This type of dead trance is defined as the total suppression of all human emotions and sensations. This cataleptic state can cause great physical and mental derangement in people.

Early spiritualists knew all about the ills of cataleptic trance. They knew before physicians did that it could cause dual and multiple personalities to form in people who practiced it.

From a medical standpoint, a severe state of dissociation could be brought on by a terrible emotional disturbance, a state of shock, severe illness, or many spontaneous situations. When this occurs, the individual's personality may appear to contain two or more different selves, and a multiple personality is shaped. The question is, does anyone really know where these other selves come from? Multiple personalities can be characterized as weak or dominant. Sometimes they commingle within a person. If they are strong in character, these formed entities have a real ability to take over a person completely. When entities begin utilizing a person's mind and physical body, that individual becomes an empty shell, a limp puppet, totally surrendering themselves to something or someone else. What's frightening is those questionable entities could also use those inhabited bodies for evil purposes.

Today real cataleptic clairvoyants or dead trance mediums are considered as extinct as dinosaurs. Today, no one is remotely aware of this ancient practice. Not even groups of modern-day spiritualists know anything about deep trance. Did old-time mediums lose their minds or become insane by practicing dead trance? I believe they told people not to even tamper with it. I think they knew that it could rip apart even the most talented of mediums. Not even the strongest medium could rightly discern the true quality of the emanating spirits in those instances. Unwelcomed entities had the ability to lodge themselves in people's subconsciousness. They could powerfully move in when one's total will was shoved aside and relinquished.

Yes, old-timers knew about the fate of people who demonstrated dead trance. They called them mounted mediums. Only one incredibly talented medium arrogantly ignored all the warning signs. He deliberately set out to master dead trance. That was his goal in life. His finely tuned practices gave him unbelievable psychic abilities. Those abilities made him very wealthy, famous, powerful, and charismatic. People flocked to him and paid top dollar to witness his trance sessions. Anything he said during those sessions was a pure nugget of gold coming directly from spirit.

His name was Dr. David Brelund.

The trouble was, he attained his goal. He became the one and only grandfather of dead trance. He was a true old-school cataleptic clairvoyant, and he practiced this deadly lost form of mediumship for over forty years.

CHAPTER 1

THE BEGINNING

MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN, SOMEWHERE around September 1, 1949

Maria San Filipo's phone rang. It was her daughter Mary. Momma, it's Mary! Get dressed right away; we need to go over to Mister D'Salvia's house.

San Filipo quietly listened.

Momma, can you hear me? Get ready. Connie called this morning crying; she doesn't know what to do. The baby is burning up with fever. She's too sick to nurse! The doctor wants to put our little Bianca in the hospital. She needs you, Momma. I'm telling you, she could not stop crying. Quickly get ready. Her husband, Teddy, is coming to pick us both up in fifteen minutes.

Maria San Filipo was concerned. Then she answered her daughter Mary with the simple calmness that she was known for. Yes, it is time, she replied in her native Sicilian language.

She placed the heavy receiver back on her old-fashioned wooden box wall phone and walked back to sit in her rocking chair to pray for a moment. She reached over her shoulder and got one of her rosaries that were draped like jeweled necklaces on the post of her chair. She had many beautiful rosaries, but her favorite one was made of black beads that looked like a strand of old beans all roped together. The nuns at church used the same kind of rosaries. She closed her eyes, and with her mind lifted in prayer, Nonna stroked each bead. Her fingers moved over each one like they were little pieces of tarnished silver that needed a vigorous polishing.

I remember watching her pray.

Her fingers would flicker back and forth over them like hummingbird wings. As she prayed, she turned her saintly face in slow motion toward the brilliant window light that streamed in from the right side of her chair. There she sat totally motionless, almost suspended in time, with those warm rays of sunlight blessing her angelic face. Her silky white hair would capture the light and create a distinctive silvery glow all around her head. My Nonna had a natural halo, just like the ones on all the holy saint statues in our church did.

I remember the way she looked.

On that special morning, she stayed in communion with spirit until her daughter Mary and Teddy came to pick her up. No words were spoken when they arrived; they all knew what had to be done. It was time for Nonna to use her special prayers. As they walked over to her, she smiled, and she slowly lifted herself from her rocker. My father, Teddy, respectfully reached to help her gain her balance. He grabbed her homemade black knit shawl and draped it over her shoulders. The warm sunlight of spirit was still visible on her face. That light made her look so radiant and young, despite her age. It was that very look that gave her the special reputation of being a godly woman of unshakable faith, who was always filled with the Holy Spirit.

Everyone in the little Italian community respected her; they knew about her abilities, her calling. She was God's helper. A true healer.

Without a word, she humbly bent down to slip on a pair of terribly old, worn-out black galoshes. They were all she had left to cover her feet. She didn't have a single pair of shoes left to her name. There was no money left to buy herself a pair. Teddy bent down to help her fasten the metal buckles. Before she stepped away from her chair, she reached for her strength, her rosary. She didn't dare go anywhere without having that black rosary tucked in the front pocket of her dress, under her long white apron. That rosary and her special prayers represented her strength, her armor, and her spiritual tools. They allowed her to do spirits' work. She knew all the prayers by heart; they were the ones that were handed down to her by her great-great-grandmothers. They were spiritual treasures that were passed down from one generation to the next, for as long as anyone could remember. Nonna's great-grandmother told her that in life, all she would ever need were those prayers, her hands, and her incredible faith in God.

She was a true spiritual warrior in God's service.

My Nonna had certain abilities. She could summon all the saints and good spirits from the heavens above in times of need, to heal, and to help people. Her beautiful pure faith directed a tremendous energy. All the saints loved my Nonna, so when she asked them for help, they were always there for her. Her faith connection aided my Nonna to help many people here on earth. Many depended on her abilities too. She couldn't explain why she was the appointed one on this side, the physical side. In our little Italian immigrant community, many people turned to her in times of trouble or illness. Wrongs were righted when she was around, and people really got well. There was no doubt that she was connected to a higher power who worked through her for the good of others. Prayer was as natural as breathing to her, and helping people was a family tradition too. When called to serve, as her grandmothers had for generations, she knew it was time for her to direct the power. She would say, The power is over there; I just call for it to come. She would just direct it to come to this side of the veil. It was simple and pure, no hocus-pocus, no jingle jangle of strange things…just prayer and faith. In her lifetime, she had constantly witnessed the glory of what good spirits could do through her humble presence. With her reverent eyes, she always witnessed tremendous healings. The force that heavenly spirits and her almighty God could manifest was lovingly visible to her and many in the immigrant community.

Nonna was equally scared to death of what the bad spirits out there could do, as well.

She was always very aware of both forces. Light always attracts the dark, she said.

She knew that dark side was also very powerful. It could hurt, cause illness, do great harm, and even kill people if directed by evil people with powers. She would warn her family members about malle gente, bad men. She would always say, "Be careful about malle gente; they walk this earth."

Now her first great-grandbaby, Bianca, needed her Nonna and her entourage of good, holy spirits. Without hesitation, she knew they would come through when she called them in to make her baby girl well again. Just thinking about it made her eyes light up with joy. She smiled with confidence, for in her heart, she knew that she had financially done all that she could possibly do to keep all the good spirits happy. She financially did her best to protect her family from the bad, negative spirits, as well.

Baby Bianca needed her Nonna's prayerful hands and loving heart. Who would have ever known about the incredible bond that was created way back then between Bianca and her Nonna Maria? Deep down, her spirit knew that ultimately, in years to come, she would use her own little Bianca Maria to help make everything right again.

I remember my Nonna lovingly holding me in her arms.

I was about three months old. As I quietly rested there, nestled on her chest, I remember hearing her heart beat with loving kindness. While she held me, I could hear my Nonna's prayers and thoughts. No words were spoken. She didn't need her voice. Her thoughts and prayers floated right through my whole little body. I answered my Nonna back with my loving eyes. We understood each other. We spoke with our hearts and thoughts, we didn't need voices; it was beautiful, pure, and very natural. On that special day, her prayers gently raised my spirit toward the sky. I promised her that I would always remember who, and what I really was. She made me promise.

Yes, Nonna, I will remember.

On that day, I promised her that someday I would make the family proud again. I told her it was an honor to hold the sacred gifts for her when it was her time to step into the spirit world. Bianca, the gifts need to always be used for good. I promised her with all my heart that they would be, and that someday I would be in the service of helping people too.

I will make you proud of me.

She smiled at me. My thoughts made her happy, and made her eyes fill up with tears. That afternoon, my Nonna sat and held me for a very long time. She softly transferred many important things into my soul and spirit that day.

She was my very first teacher. I promised her when the time came, I would closely listen. I promised not to forget anything, and that I would do what had to be done.

Nonna whispered that I should never be worried because she would clearly guide me when the time was right.

I thanked her for making me strong and for taking my fever away.

On that day, I told her I loved her, and that I would always be her special girl.

Wednesday, September 14, 1949

The whole family hid their faces in terrible shame and disgrace. Our family's name was splashed all over the front pages of the local newspapers. Nonna's picture accompanied the disgraceful headlines. She was publicly ridiculed for being the victim of a con artist charlatan, Angelina Ferona, a so-called spiritualist. People all over Milwaukee wondered how Nonna could have been so blind, so stupid! People laughed out loud at her when they read the news story. Shame overcame our whole family; after all, my God, her brothers were Catholic priests!

Overnight, my saintly Nonna became a total outcast; once loved and respected, now she was shunned. Everybody in Wisconsin who read the headlines in volume CXIII, number 62, of the Milwaukee Sentinel was in total shock and disbelief. My Nonna became the subject of terribly mean jokes. Most of all, people wondered how on earth someone could have been so damn stupid!

The headlines read:

$50,000 Paid to Bribe Ghosts

Victim Says Woman Collected for Eighteen Years

West Allis Resident Jailed in Raid by Police

The headlines in the evening edition of the Milwaukee Journal were worse. Those words virtually tore my Nonna emotionally apart. The huge, bold print ended up branding her for life, and she was never quite the same after that. People thought my Nonna was some kind of freak to believe in spirits. How could she be so superstitious? How did a godly woman get mixed up with a terrible psychic, a real charlatan?

The whole state read headlines like:

Admits Getting $1400 to Appease the Spirits

West Allis Woman Says She Got $20 Weekly Payments

Police Set Total at $80,000!

In 1949, that was a massive fortune.

Here is what the newspaper article said:

A West Allis sorceress admitted Wednesday to police, and the assistant district attorney that she had taken at least $1400 from an Italian immigrant woman in $20.00 weekly payments for what she called her special services in working with the spirits. The sorceress was Mrs. Angelina Ferona, 49 of 2155 South 79th Street. Police arrested her after they raided her home. They found all kinds of questionable gypsy articles in her possession. Decks of fortune telling cards were everywhere. As the search continued, it became obvious that she was attempting to conceal something from them. They demanded she hand over what she was hiding from them. They quickly grabbed her hands and forcibly brought them up from under the table. She tried to fight them and made one last effort to conceal her prized possession, her coveted crystal ball. When she was questioned, she admitted using these special tools for communicating with the spirits. She said that they aided her in receiving messages of ill omen for people. She was charged with obtaining money by means of a confidence game. When questioned, Ferona said, as she burned the money, she saw the spirits dance and sing so she continued to collect money. Without hesitation she admitted those spiritual offerings were needed to keep bad spirits away from Maria and her family. She told the police she only did what she had to do to appease them for Maria.

The true victim of this fortune telling swindle was Maria, 61, of 519 North Cass Street. The police considered Mrs. Ferona's testimony of her estimated ghostly income to be woefully small, and questioned her extensively on her many recent acquisitions of some pretty substantial lakeside property in the state. From the story told by Maria, the police estimated that gross figure back over an 18-year period. Their amount was estimated at $80,000, an astronomical fortune of cash in that day. The police noted that when they spoke to Maria San Filipo, her feet were solely covered by a pair of old black rubber galoshes and nothing more. She confessed that she didn't even have money to buy herself a simple pair of shoes. When they asked her how long she had gone without shoes, she honestly could not remember. The victim knew the police were on her side, but how about all those ghosts who were being paid to leave her alone? Maria bravely finally admitted that she was no longer afraid of the supernatural beings, and that she felt she rightfully appeased them. She told the police that on August 29, 1949, she paid Ferona $66.00, which was the very last payment from an exchequer virtually drained dry by years of meeting the worldly demands of those spirits in the beyond.

And was she mad when she didn't get any more money from me, Maria said. She kept calling us up every day for more and more. She said she was having a terrible time keeping all the bad spirits away from us.

Angelina Ferona told Maria, One of the spirits had given her an awful crack on the knee.

All this shameful publicity was too much for my Nonna to cope with. She had a hard time understanding people in America. In her little Sicilian town, the people would have understood everything. They knew about what bad spirits could do to people. American people just made fun of her; they didn't understand. Nonna would say, If you were close to God, know that the devil would also try to get a piece of you.

Angelina Ferona knew how my Nonna felt. She convinced her that she would help her keep the evil ones away, but for a price. She told my Nonna that great harm was going to fall upon her children if she didn't appease them. What mother wouldn't try to protect her children from harm? She also knew that Nonna's restaurant was making good money during those days. When she visited my Nonna's place, and saw that people were enjoying themselves at her lakeside tavern, she made Nonna feel guilty for doing well. She wanted a piece of my Nonna's life and her hard-earned money. She constantly hounded my Nonna day and night with thoughts of ill omens until she broke down and started to pay her.

After the news article, when people passed Nonna on the street they would yell obscenities at her. She was known as the stupid lady who spirited away a fortune. All this hateful talk just kept breaking her heart right in half. It didn't stop with her either; people took jabs at the whole family for having a freak who believed in bad spirits that could hurt people. Foolish old-country hocus-pocus beliefs didn't belong in this new America. People never stopped laughing at her.

Well, despite enduring the torment and a broken heart, my Nonna never stopped praying to the good spirits and saints in heaven. She stopped helping people get well, though; in fact, she very rarely left the house after that.

When I close my eyes today and allow my mind to float back in time, I can remember everything about my Nonna with incredible accuracy. I remember her beautiful face, the softness of her skin, her long, silky white hair, and her loving eyes.

She always loved just watching me. I knew her eyes were always on me.

I remember her sitting in her maple chair looking out that big window, smiling and watching me play in her yard. As a child, the time I spent in her presence was very special for both of us.

Yes, Nonna, I will remember everything.

I remember every wonderful detail of that old rocking chair. Her chair never moved from that certain spot in her lakeside seafood restaurant and tavern. It was called The Tap and was located in Milwaukee's old Third Ward immigrant Italian community. Just to the left of her chair was a huge, colorful jute box that had bright liquid lights dancing, bubbling, and streaming through it. She always gave me money to select records. All the people who frequented that popular little eating establishment seemed to have a sense of respect for that little section where Nonna always sat. Patrons could tell just by looking at it that it was Maria's personal space; there was a reverence associated with it. No one in the family had the nerve to sit there either.

But I remember sitting there.

Nonna let me sit there because I was special to her. The family called me La Prima, the first great-grandchild in the family. As a child, I loved rocking in that chair. My eyes remembered everything. Her special prayers were always recited in that chair. No one dared to move anything around it. She had all kinds of her special little personal holy things placed around it.

The window's wooden ledge was terribly weathered and blistered from years of dampness. It was heavily crackled from layers of old paint, but it still reverently held all the collected sacred things that meant so much to her. Her treasures were simple ones—the statues of Saint Anthony, Saint Jude, Saint Joseph, and Saint John the Baptist, the Infant of Prague, and the Sacred Heart of Jesus were lined up shoulder to shoulder in a row. Some statues were plastic, some were ceramic, and all of them had long nightgowns on, even the men statues. I knew they were painted with real gold and silver too. The biggest statue, the one that was always placed the closest to her, was what Italians called the original Momma, the Madonna, the Blessed Virgin Mary. I always thought she had special powers because at night she would glow in the dark. Nonna kept candles lit in front of every saint and two around the Madonna. On some occasions, Nonna would pray to some statues more than the others. Saint John the Baptist was called on to calm the weather down. She'd ask him to calm vicious storms so no one would be harmed by them. Saint Anthony would help people find lost things. Saint Jude was the saint to go to for special favors and miracles. Saint Joseph was the patron saint of working people and those who needed financial help. The Infant of Prague was Baby Jesus, who always protected children. My Nonna collected holy cards like some people collected baseball cards. She had a stack of them that she would sort through daily, and silently recite the special prayers on the back of each of them. Some of them were pretty worn out. All their edges were rounded, and the paper on some felt more like material because she had held them so much. All the saints looked like they were coming out of the clouds in the sky, and they were always surrounded by mighty light rays. All of them had cool glowing circles for hats. One statue was sad; I guessed it was because he had bloody holes in his hands, a crown of thorns on his head, and around his heart. As a child, I always wondered why no one ever took the time to put bandages on him so he could heal.

While others stayed away from that area, my Nonna let me play with everything she had. Under her watchful eye, I would rearrange all the statues for her. I brought them down from the ledge and played with them as though they were fancy dolls. I danced with them. I used to talk to them, and sometimes, if I was real quiet, I could hear them answer me back. I spent a lot of time looking at the Madonna statue. She was the most beautiful lady I had ever seen. Her arms were always extended out, and she smiled at everyone, just like my Nonna did. Her glowing circle headdress was bigger than all the rest of them. Was that because she was a queen or a fairy godmother? Nonna smiled and told me she was both! Where did that glow come from? I remember picking it up and looking underneath to see if, secretly, there was an attached light. Once I asked my Nonna where I could find one of those circle hats for myself. Nonna laughed at my question. I didn't laugh; I was serious. I wanted to find one that would glow in the dark too.

Nonna's tavern was always a happy place; people could drink, dance to music, play cards, and eat the best seafood in town. Even the local cops would stop by for a shot of whiskey on a cold Milwaukee day. Life was good, and a bag of potato chips was five cents! Behind the bar, she stored big metal vats of fresh clams, oysters, snails, huge whole crabs, and bright-red lobsters. I loved exploring behind that bar when no one was looking. With a big wooden spoon in hand, I would start smacking anything that moved. It was as though I had my own xylophone. I hated the clams. Once, one pinched my finger, so I got two wooden spoons, and I pretended it was a little drum that needed to be beat!

I loved going to Nonna's restaurant for lunch. She would tie a big white diaper around my neck, give me one of those big diaper pins, and set me in front of a plate full of snails, oysters, and whole crabs. I'd have to work for my meal. I'd have to dig them out of all their shells in order to dunk them in butter. Before I ate the crabs, though, I would pick them up and dance their skinny legs off all over the tabletop. To me, they were puppets that needed to be played with first, and then I'd rip them in half and eat the green stuff inside.

While Nonna sat in her chair and watched me eat my lunch, the sunrays coming through her window made the statues shadows grow, like my magic rocks did in water. The Madonna's shadow would fall directly across her lap. Sometimes the shadows would fall on her hands. It was magical, because one day they spilled out onto the floor of