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On Sunday night, May 3 [1868], the feast of Saint Joseph's patronage, Don Bosco resumed the narration of his dreams:

I have another dream to tell you, a sort of aftermath of those I told you last Thursday and Friday which totally exhausted me. Call them dreams or whatever you like. Always, as you know, on the night of April 17 a frightful toad seemed bent on devouring me. When it finally vanished, a voice said to me: "Why don't you tell them?" I turned in that direction and saw a distinguished person standing by my bed. Feeling guilty about my silence, I asked: "What should I tell my boys?"

"What you have seen and heard in your last dreams and what you have wanted to know and shall have revealed to you tomorrow night!" He then vanished.

I spent the whole next day worrying about the miserable night in store for me, and when evening came, loath to go to bed, I sat at my desk browsing through books until midnight. The mere thought of having more nightmares thoroughly scare me. However, with great effort, I finally went to bed.

"Get up and follow me!" he said.

"For Heaven's sake," I protested, "leave me alone. I am exhausted! I've been tormented by a toothache for several days now and need rest. Besides, nightmares have completely worn me out." I said this because this man's apparition always means trouble, fatigue, and terror for me.

"Get up," he repeated. "You have no time to lose."

I complied and followed him. "Where are you taking me?" I asked.

"Never mind. You'll see." He led me to a vast, boundless plain, veritably a lifeless desert, with not a soul in sight or a tree or brook. Yellowed, dried-up vegetation added to the desolation I had no idea where I was or what was I to do. For a moment I even lost sight of my guide and feared that I was lost, utterly alone. Father Rua, Father Francesia, nowhere to be seen. When I finally saw my friend coming toward me, I sighed in relief.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Come with me and you will find out!"

"All right. I'll go with you."

He led the way and I followed in silence, but after a long, dismal trudge, I began worrying whether I would ever be able to cross that vast expanse, what with my toothache and swollen legs. Suddenly I saw a road ahead.

"Where to now?" I asked my guide.

"This way," he replied.

We took the road. It was beautiful, wide, and neatly paved. "The way of sinners is made plain with stones, and in their end is hell, and darkness, and pains. " (Ecclesiasticus 21: 11, stones: broad and easy.) Both sides were lined with magnificent verdant hedges dotted with gorgeous flowers. Roses, especially, peeped everywhere through the leaves. At first glance, the road was level and comfortable, and so I ventured upon it without the least suspicion, but soon I noticed that it insensibly kept sloping downward. Though it did not look steep at all, I found myself moving so swiftly that I felt I was effortlessly gliding through the air. Really, I was gliding and hardly using my feet. Then the thought struck me that the return trip would be very long and arduous.

"How shall we get back to the Oratory?" I asked worriedly.

"Do not worry," he answered. "The Almighty wants you to go. He who leads you on will also know how to lead you back."

The road is sloping downward. As we were continuing on our way, flanked by banks of roses and other flowers, I became aware that the Oratory boys and very many others whom I did not know were following me. Somehow I found myself in their midst. As I was looking at them, I noticed now one, now another fall to the ground and instantly be dragged by an unseen force toward a frightful drop, distantly visible, which sloped into a furnace. "What makes these boys fall?" I asked my companion. "The proud have hidden a net for me. And they have stretched out cords for a snare: they have laid for me a stumbling-block by the wayside." (Psalms 139: 6)

"Take a closer look," he replied.

I did. Traps were everywhere, some close to the ground, others at eye level, but all well concealed. Unaware of their danger, many boys got caught, and they tripped, they would sprawl to the ground, legs in the air. Then, when they managed to get back on their feet, they would run headlong down the road toward the abyss. Some got trapped by the head, others by the neck, hand, arms, legs, or sides, and were pulled down instantly. The ground traps, fine as spiders' webs and hardly visible, seemed very flimsy and harmless; yet, to my surprise, every boy they snared fell to the ground.

Noticing my astonishment, the guide remarked, "Do you know what this is?"

"Just some filmy fiber," I answered.

"A mere nothing," he said, "just plain human respect.",

Seeing that many boys were being caught in those straps. I asked, "Why do so many get caught? Who pulls them down?"

"Go nearer and you will see!" he told me.

I followed his advice but saw nothing peculiar.

"Look closer," he insisted.

I picked up one of the traps and tugged. I immediately felt some resistance. I pulled harder, only to feel that, instead of drawing the thread closer, I was being pulled down myself. I did not resist and soon found myself at the mouth of a frightful cave. I halted, unwilling to venture into that deep cavern, and again started pulling the thread toward me. It gave a little, but only through great effort on my part. I kept tugging, and after a long while a huge, hideous monster emerged, clutching a rope to which all those traps were tied together. He was the one who instantly dragged down anyone who got caught in them. It won't do to match my strength with his, I said to myself. I'll certainly lose. I'd better fight him with the Sign of the Cross and with short invocations.

Then I went back to my guide. "Now you know who he is," he said to me.

"I surely do! It is the devil himself!"

Carefully examining many of the traps, I saw that each bore an inscription: Pride, Disobedience, Envy, Sixth Commandment, Theft, Gluttony, Sloth, Anger and so on. Stepping back a bit to see which ones trapped the greater number of boys, I discovered that the most dangerous were those of impurity, disobedience, and pride. In fact, these three were linked to together. Many other traps also did great harm, but not as much as the first two. Still watching, I noticed many boys running faster than others. "Why such haste?" I asked.

"Because they are dragged by the snare of human respect."

Looking even more closely, I spotted knives among the traps. A providential hand had put them there for cutting oneself free. The bigger ones, symbolizing meditation, were for use against the trap of pride; others, not quite as big, symbolized spiritual reading well made. There were also two swords representing devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, especially through frequent Holy Communion, and to the Blessed Virgin. There was also a hammer symbolizing confession, and other knives signifying devotion to Saint Joseph, to Saint Aloysius, and to other Saints. By these means quite a few boys were able to free themselves or evade capture.

Indeed I saw some lads walking safely through all those traps, either by good timing before the trap sprung on them or by making it slip off them if they got caught.

When my guide was satisfied that I had observed everything, he made me continue along that rose-hedged road, but the farther we went the scarcer the roses became. Long thorns began to show up, and soon the roses were no more. The hedges became sun-scorched, leafless, and thorn-studded. Withered branches torn from the bushes lay criss-crossed along the roadbed, littering it with thorns and making it impassable. We had come now to a gulch whose steep sides hid what lay beyond. The road, still sloping downward, was becoming ever more horrid, rutted, guttered, and bristling with rocks and boulders. I lost track of all my boys, most of whom had left this treacherous road for other paths.

I kept going, but the farther I advanced, the more arduous and steep became the descent, so that I tumbled and fell several times, lying prostrate until I could catch my breath. Now and then my guide supported me or helped me to rise. At every step my joints seemed to give way, and I thought my shinbones would snap. Panting, I said to my guide, "My good fellow, my legs won't carry me another step. I just can't go any farther." He did not answer but continued walking. Taking heart, I followed until, seeing me soaked in perspiration and thoroughly exhausted, he led me to a little clearing alongside the road. I sat down, took a deep breath, and felt a little better. From my resting place, the road I had already traveled looked very steep, jagged, and strewn with loose stones, but what lay ahead seemed so much worse that I closed my eyes in horror.

"Let's go back," I pleaded. "If we go any farther, how shall we ever get back to the Oratory? I will never make it up this slope."

"Now that we have come so far, do you want me to leave you here?" my guide sternly asked.

At this threat, I wailed, "How can I survive without your help?"

"Then follow me."

We continued our descent, the road now becoming so frightfully steep that it was almost impossible to stand erect. And then, at the bottom of this precipice, at the entrance of a dark valley, an enormous building loomed into sight, its towering portal, tightly locked, facing our road. When I finally got to the bottom, I became smothered by a suffocating heat, while a greasy, green-tinted smoke lit by flashes of scarlet flames rose from behind those enormous walls which loomed higher than mountains.

"Where are we? What is this?" I asked my guide.

"Read the inscription on that portal and you will know."

I looked up and read these words: "The place of no reprieve." I realized that we were at the gates of Hell. The guide led me all around this horrible place. At regular distance bronze portals like the first overlooked precipitous descents; on each was an inscription, such as: "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, which was prepared for the devil and his angels." (Matthew 25: 41) "Every tree that yielded not good fruit, shall be cut down, and shall be cast into the the fire." (Matthew 7: 19)

I tried to copy them into my notebook, but my guide restrained me: "There is no need. You have them all in Holy Scripture. You even have some of them inscribed in your porticoes."

At such a sight I wanted to turn back and return to the Oratory. As a matter of fact, I did start back, but my guide ignored my attempt. After trudging through a steep, never-ending ravine, we again came to the foot of the precipice facing the first portal. Suddenly the guide turned to me. Upset and startled, he motioned to me to step aside. "Look!" he said.

I looked up in terror and saw in the distance someone racing down the path at an uncontrollable speed. I kept my eyes on him, trying to identify him, and as he got closer, I recognized him as one of my boys. His disheveled hair was partly standing upright on his head and partly tossed back by the wind. His arms were outstretched as though he were thrashing the water in an attempt to stay afloat. He wanted to stop, but could not. Tripping on the protruding stones, he kept falling even faster. "Let's help him, let's stop him," I shouted, holding out my hands in a vain effort to restrain him.

"Leave him alone," the guide replied.

"Why?"

"Don't you know how terrible God's vengeance is? Do you think you can restrain one who is fleeing from His just wrath?"

Meanwhile the youth had turned his fiery gaze backward in an attempt to see if God's wrath were still pursuing him. The next moment he fell tumbling to the bottom of the ravine and crashed against the bronze portal as though he could find no better refuge in his flight.

"Why was he looking backward in terror?" I asked.

"Because God's wrath will pierce Hell's gates to reach and torment him even in the midst of fire!"

As the boy crashed into the portal, it sprang open with a roar, and instantly a thousand inner portals opened with a deafening clamor as if struck by a body that had been propelled by an invisible, most violent, irresistible gale. As these bronze doors -- one behind the other, though at a considerable distance from each other -- remained momentarily open, I saw far into the distance something like furnace jaws sprouting fiery balls the moment the youth hurtled into it. As swiftly as they had opened, the portals then clanged shut again. For a third time I tried to jot down the name of that unfortunate lad, but the guide again restrained me. "Wait," he ordered.

"Watch!"

Three other boys of ours, screaming in terror and with arms outstretched, were rolling down one behind the other like massive rocks, I recognized them as they too crashed against the portal. In that split second, it sprang open and so did the other thousand. The three lads were sucked into that endless corridor amid a long-drawn, fading, infernal echo, and then the portals clanged shut again. At intervals, many other lads came tumbling down after them. I saw one unlucky boy being pushed down the slope by an evil companion. Others fell singly or with others, arm in arm or side by side. Each of them bore the name of his sin on his forehead. I kept calling to them as they hurtled down, but they did not hear me. Again the portals would open thunderously and slam shut with a rumble. Then, dead silence!

"Bad companions, bad books, and bad habits," my guide exclaimed, "are mainly responsible for so many eternally lost."

The traps I had seen earlier were indeed dragging the boys to ruin. Seeing so many going to perdition, I cried out disconsolately, "If so many of our boys end up this way, we are working in vain. How can we prevent such tragedies?"

"This is their present state," my guide replied, "and that is where they would go if they were to die now."

"Then let me jot down their names so that I may warn them and put them back on the path to Heaven."

"Do you really believe that some of them would reform if you were to warn them? Then and there your warning might impress them, but soon they will forget it, saying, 'It was just a dream,' and they will do worse than before. Others, realizing they have been unmasked, receive the sacraments, but this will be neither spontaneous nor meritorious; others will go to confession because of a momentary fear of Hell but will still be attached to sin."

"Then is there no way to save these unfortunate lads? Please, tell me what I can do for them."

"They have superiors; let them obey them. They have rules; let them observe them. They have the sacraments; let them receive them."

Just then a new group of boys came hurtling down and the portals momentarily opened. "Let's go in," the guide said to me.

I pulled back in horror. I could not wait to rush back to the Oratory to warn the boys lest others might be lost as well.

"Come," my guide insisted. "You'll learn much. But first tell me: Do you wish to go alone or with me?" He asked this to make me realize that I was not brave enough and therefore needed his friendly assistance.

"Alone inside that horrible place?" I replied. "How will I ever be able to find my way out without your help?" Then a thought came to my mind and aroused my courage. Before one is condemned to Hell, I said to myself, he must be judged. And I haven't been judged yet!

"Let's go," I exclaimed resolutely. We entered that narrow, horrible corridor and whizzed through it with lightning speed. Threatening inscriptions shone eerily over all the inner gateways. The last one opened into a vast, grim courtyard with a large, unbelievably forbidding entrance at the far end. Above it stood this inscription:

"These shall go into everlasting punishment." (Matthew 25: 46) The walls all about were similarly inscribed. I asked my guide if I could read them, and he consented. These were the inscriptions:

"He will give fire, and worms into their flesh, and they may burn and may feel forever." (Judith 16: 21)

"The pool of fire where both the beast and the false prophet shall be tormented day and night forever and ever." (Apocalypse 20: 9-10)

"And the smoke of their torments shall ascend up forever and ever." (Apocalypse 14: 11)

"A land of misery and darkness, where the shadow of death, and no order, but everlasting horror dwelleth." (Job 10: 22)

"There is no peace to the wicked." (Isaias 47: 22)

"There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." (Matthew 8:12)

While I moved from one inscription to another, my guide, who had stood in the center of the courtyard, came up to me.

"From here on," he said, "no one may have a helpful companion, a comforting friend, a loving heart, a compassionate glance, or a benevolent word. All this is gone forever. Do you just want to see or would you rather experience these things yourself?"

"I only want to see!" I answered.

"Then come with me," my friend added, and, taking me in tow, he stepped through that gate into a corridor at whose far end stood an observation platform, closed by a huge, single crystal pane reaching from the pavement to the ceiling. As soon as I crossed its threshold, I felt an indescribable terror and dared not take another step. Ahead of me I could see something like an immense cave which gradually disappeared into recesses sunk far into the bowels of the mountains. They were all ablaze, but theirs was not an earthly fire with leaping tongues of flames. The entire cave --walls, ceiling, floor, iron, stones, wood, and coal -- everything was a glowing white at temperatures of thousands of degrees. Yet the fire did not incinerate, did not consume. I simply can't find words to describe the cavern's horror. "The nourishment thereof is fire and much wood: the breath of the Lord as a torrent of brimstone kindling it." (Isaias 30: 33)

I was staring in bewilderment about me when a lad dashed out of a gate. Seemingly unaware of anything else, he emitted a most shrilling scream, like one who is about to fall into a cauldron of liquid bronze, and plummeted into the center of the cave. Instantly he too became incandescent and perfectly motionless, while the echo of his dying wail lingered for an instant more.

Terribly frightened, I stared briefly at him for a while. He seemed to be one of my Oratory boys. "Isn't he so and so?" I asked my guide.

"Yes," was the answer.

"Why is he so still, so incandescent?"

"You chose to see," he replied. "Be satisfied with that. Just keep looking. Besides, "Everyone shall be salted with fire." (Mark 9: 48 )

As I looked again, another boy came hurtling down into the cave at breakneck speed. He too was from the Oratory. As he fell, so he remained. He too emitted one single heart-rending shriek that blended with the last echo of the scream that came from the youth who had preceded him. Other boys kept hurtling in the same way in increasing numbers, all screaming the same way and then all becoming equally motionless and incandescent. I noticed that the first seemed frozen to the spot, one hand and one foot raised into the air; the second boy seemed bent almost double to the floor. Others stood or hung in various other positions, balancing themselves on one foot or hand, sitting or lying on their backs or on their sides, standing or kneeling, hands clutching their hair. Briefly, the scene resembled a large statuary group of youngsters cast into ever more painful postures. Other lads hurtled into that same furnace. Some I knew; others were strangers to me. I then recalled what is written in the Bible to the effect that as one falls into Hell, so he shall forever remain. ". . . in what place soever it shall fall, there shall it be." (Ecclesiastes 11:3)

More frightened than ever, I asked my guide, "When these boys come dashing into this cave, don't they know where they are going?"

"They surely do. They have been warned a thousand times, but they still choose to rush into the fire because they do not detest sin and are loath to forsake it. Furthermore, they despise and reject God's incessant, merciful invitations to do penance. Thus provoked, Divine Justice harries them, hounds them, and goads them on so that they cannot halt until they reach this place."

"Oh, how miserable these unfortunate boys must feel in knowing they no longer have any hope," I exclaimed. "If you really want to know their innermost frenzy and fury, go a little closer," my guide remarked.

I took a few steps forward and saw that many of those poor wretches were savagely striking at each other like mad dogs. Others were clawing their own faces and hands, tearing their own flesh and spitefully throwing it about. Just then the entire ceiling of the cave became as transparent as crystal and revealed a patch of Heaven and their radiant companions safe for all eternity.

The poor wretches, fuming and panting with envy, burned with rage because they had once ridiculed the just. "The wicked shall see, and be angry, he shall gnash with his teeth, and pine away. . . " (Psalms 111: 10) "Why do hear no sound?" I asked my guide,

"Go closer!" he advised.

Pressing my ear to the crystal window, I heard screams and sobs, blasphemies and imprecations against the Saints. It was a tumult of voices and cries, shrill and confused.

"When they recall the happy lot of their good companions," he replied, "they are obliged to admit: "We fools esteemed their life madness, and their end without honour. Behold, how they are numbered among the children of God, and their lot is among the saints. Therefore we have erred from the way of truth, and the light of justice hath not shined unto us, and the sun of understanding hath not risen upon us." (Wisdom 5:4-6) "We wearied ourselves in the way of iniquity and destruction, and have walked through hard ways, but the way of the Lord we have not known. What hath pride profited us ? or what advantage hath the boasting of riches brought us ? All those things are passed away like a shadow." (Wisdom 5: 7-9)

"Here time is no more. Here is only eternity."

While I viewed the condition of many of my boys in utter terror, a thought suddenly struck me. "How can these boys be damned?" I asked. "Last night they were still alive at the Oratory!"

"The boys you see here," he answered, "are all dead to God's grace. Were they to die now or persist in their evil ways, they would be damned. But we are wasting time. Let us go on."

He led me away and we went down through a corridor into a lower cavern, at whose entrance I read: "Their worm shall not die, and their fire shall not be quenched." (Isaias 66: 24) "He will give fire, and worms into their flesh, and they may burn and may feel forever." (Judith 16: 21)

Here one could see how atrocious was the remorse of those who had been pupils in our schools. What a torment was their, to remember each unforgiven sin and its just punishment, the countless, even extraordinary means they had had to mend their ways, persevere in virtue, and earn paradise, and their lack of response to the many favors promised and bestowed by the Virgin Mary. What a torture to think that they couId have been saved so easily, yet now are irredeemably lost, and to remember the many good resolutions made and never kept. Hell is indeed paved with good intentions!

In this lower cavern I again saw those Oratory boys who had fallen into the fiery furnace. Some are listening to me right now; others are former pupils or even strangers to me. I drew closer to them and noticed that they were all covered with worms and vermin which gnawed at their vitals, hearts, eyes, hands, legs, and entire bodies so ferociously as to defy description. Helpless and motionless, they were a prey to every kind of torment. Hoping I might be able to speak with them or to hear something from them, I drew even closer but no one spoke or even looked at me. I then asked my guide why, and he explained that the damned are totally deprived of freedom. Each must fully endure his own punishment, with absolutely no reprieve whatever. "And now," he added, "you too must enter that cavern."

"Oh, no!" I objected in terror. "Before going to Hell, one has to be judged. I have not been judged yet, and so I will not go to Hell!"

"Listen," he said, "what would you rather do: visit Hell and save your boys, or stay outside and leave them in agony?"

For a moment I was struck speechless. "Of course I love my boys and wish to save them all," I replied, "but isn't there some other way out?"

"Yes, there is a way," he went on, "provided you do all you can."

I breathed more easily and instantly said to myself, I don't mind slaving if I can rescue these beloved sons of mine from such torments.

"Come inside then," my friend went on, "and see how our good, almighty God lovingly provides a thousand means for guiding your boys to penance and saving them from everlasting death."

Taking my hand, he led me into the cave. As I stepped in, I found myself suddenly transported into a magnificent hall whose curtained glass doors concealed more entrances.

Above one of them I read this inscription: The Sixth Commandment. Pointing to it, my guide exclaimed, "Transgressions of this commandment caused the eternal ruin of many boys."

"Didn't they go to confession?"

"They did, but they either omitted or insufficiently confessed the sins against the beautiful virtue of purity, saying for instance that they had committed such sins two or three times when it was four or five. Other boys may have fallen into that sin but once in their childhood, and, through shame, never confessed it or did so insufficiently. Others were not truly sorry or sincere in their resolve to avoid it in the future. There were even some who, rather than examine their conscience, spent their time trying to figure out how best to deceive their confessor. Anyone dying in this frame of mind chooses to be among the damned, and so he is doomed for all eternity. Only those who die truly repentant shall be eternally happy. Now do you want to see why our merciful God brought you here?" He lifted the curtain and I saw a group of Oratory boys -- all known to me -- who were there because of this sin. Among them were some whose conduct seems to be good.

"Now you will surely let me take down their names so that I may warn them individually," I exclaimed. "Then what do you suggest I tell them?"

"Always preach against immodesty. A generic warning will suffice. Bear in mind that even if you did admonish them individually, they would promise, but not always in earnest. For a firm resolution, one needs God's grace which will not be denied to your boys if they pray. God manifests His power especially by being merciful and forgiving. On your part, pray and make sacrifices. As for the boys, let them listen to your admonitions and consult their conscience. It will tell them what to do."

We spent the next half hour discussing the requisites of a good confession. Afterward, my guide several times exclaimed in a loud voice, "Avertere! Avertere!"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Change life! "

Perplexed, I bowed my head and made as if to withdraw, but he held me back.

"You haven't seen everything yet," he explained.

He turned and lifted another curtain bearing this inscription: "They who would become rich, fall into temptation, and to the snare of the devil." (1 Timothy 6: 9) (Note: would become rich: wish to become rich, seek riches, set their heart and affections toward riches.)

"This does not apply to my boys! I countered, "because they are as poor as I am. We are not rich and do not want to be. We give it no thought."

As the curtain was lifted, however, I saw a group of boys, all known to me. They were in pain, like those I had seen before. Pointing to them, my guide remarked, "As you see, the inscription does apply to your boys."

"But how?" I asked.

"Well," he said, "some boys are so attached to material possessions that their love of God is lessened. Thus they sin against charity, piety, and meekness. Even the mere desire of riches can corrupt the heart, especially if such a desire leads to injustice. Your boys are poor, but remember that greed and idleness are bad counselors. One of your boys committed substantial thefts in his native town, and though he could make restitution, he gives it not a thought. There are others who try to break into the pantry or the prefect's or economer's office; those who rummage in their companions' trunks for food, money, or possessions; those who steal stationery and books...."

After naming these boys and others as well, he continued, "Some are here for having stolen clothes, linen, blankets, and coats from the Oratory wardrobe in order to send them home to their families; others for willful, serious damage; others, yet, for not having given back what they had borrowed or for having kept sums of money they were supposed to hand over to the superior. Now that you know who these boys are," he concluded, "admonish them. Tell them to curb all vain, harmful desires, to obey God's law and to safeguard their reputation jealously lest greed lead them to greater excesses and plunge them into sorrow, death, and damnation."

I couldn't understand why such dreadful punishments should be meted out for infractions that boys thought so little of, but my guide shook me out of my thoughts by saying: "Recall what you were told when you saw those spoiled grapes on the wine." With these words he lifted another curtain which hid many of our Oratory boys, all of whom I recognized instantly. The inscription on the curtain read: The root of all evils.

"Do you know what that means?" he asked me immediately.

"What sin does that refer to?"

"Pride?"

"No!"

"And yet I have always heard that pride is the root of all evil."

"It is, generally speaking, but, specifically, do you know what led Adam and Eve to commit the first sin for which they were driven away from their earthly paradise?"

"Disobedience?"

"Exactly! Disobedience is the root of all evil."

"What shall I tell my boys about it?"

"Listen carefully: the boys you see here are those who prepare such a tragic end for themselves by being disobedient. So-and-so and so-and-so, who you think went to bed, leave the dormitory later in the night to roam about the playground, and, contrary to orders, they stray into dangerous areas and up scaffolds, endangering even their lives. Others go to church, but, ignoring recommendations, they misbehave; instead of praying, they daydream or cause a disturbance. There are also those who make themselves comfortable so as to doze off during church services, and those who only make believe they are going to church. Woe to those who neglect prayer! He who does not pray dooms himself to perdition. Some are here because, instead of singing hymns or saying the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin, they read frivolous or -- worse yet -- forbidden books." He then went on mentioning other serious breaches of discipline.

When he was done, I was deeply moved.

"May I mention all these things to my boys?" I asked, looking at him straight in the eye.

"Yes, you may tell them whatever you remember."

"What advice shall I give them to safeguard them from such a tragedy?"

"Keep telling them that by obeying God, the Church, their parents, and their superiors, even in little things, they will be saved."

"Anything else?"

"Warn them against idleness. Because of idleness David fell into sin. Tell them to keep busy at all times, because the devil will not then have a chance to tempt them."

I bowed my head and promised. Faint with dismay, I could only mutter, "Thanks for having been so good to me. Now, please lead me out of here."

"All right, then, come with me." Encouragingly he took my hand and held me up because I could hardly stand on my feet. Leaving that hall, in no time at all we retraced our steps through that horrible courtyard and the long corridor. But as soon as we stepped across the last bronze portal, he turned to me and said, "Now that you have seen what others suffer, you too must experience a touch of Hell."

"No, no!" I cried in terror.

He insisted, but I kept refusing.

"Do not be afraid," he told me; "just try it. Touch this wall."

I could not muster enough courage and tried to get away, but he held me back. "Try it," he insisted. Gripping my arm firmly, he pulled me to the wall. "Only one touch," he cornmanded, "so that you may say you have both seen and touched the walls of eternal suffering and that you may understand what the last wall must be like if the first is so unendurable. Look at this wall!" I did intently. It seemed incredibly thick. "There are a thousand walls between this and the real fire of Hell," my guide continued. "A thousand walls encompass it, each a thousand measures thick and equally distant from the next one. Each measure is a thousand miles. This wall therefore is millions and millions of miles from Hell's real fire. It is just a remote rim of Hell itself."

When he said this, I instinctively pulled back, but he seized my hand, forced it open, and pressed it against the first of the thousand walls. The sensation was so utterly excruciating that I leaped back with a scream and found myself sitting up in bed. My hand was stinging and I kept rubbing it to ease the pain. When I got up this morning I noticed that it was swollen. Having my hand pressed against the wall, though only in a dream, felt so real that, later, the skin of my palm peeled off.

Bear in mind that I have tried not to frighten you very much, and so I have not described these things in all their horror as I saw them and as they impressed me. We know that Our Lord always portrayed Hell in symbols because, had He described it as it really is, we would not have understood Him. No mortal can comprehend these things. The Lord knows them and He reveals them to whomever He wills

when i started reading this, i could not put it down(i had it on paper)
it was disturbing and at the same time intriguing.






"You have but two final destinies: Heaven and hell. Know that satan will try to remove the reality of the existence of his kingdom, hell, from you. If he makes a farce of his existence among you, he will deceive you so that you will sin and remove yourselves from the Spirit of light. And when you remove yourselves from the Spirit of light, you remove yourselves from eternal life in the Kingdom of your Father, the most high God in Heaven." - Our Lady of the Roses, February 1, 1975






The following explanation was found among the papers left by a nun who died in a convent in Germany.


In my youth, I had a friend, Anne, who lived near my house. That is to say, we were mutually attached as companions and co-workers in the same office. After Anne married, I never saw her again. We never had what can be called a real friendship, but rather an amiable relationship. For this reason, when she married well and moved to a better neighborhood far from my home, I didn't really miss her that much.

In mid-September of 1937 I was vacationing at Lake Garda when my mother wrote me this bit of gossip: "Imagine, Anne N. died. She lost her life in an automobile accident. She was buried yesterday in M. cemetery."

I was shocked by the news. I knew that Anne had never been very religious. Was she prepared when God called her suddenly from this life? The next morning I assisted at Mass in the chapel of the convent boarding house where I was rooming. I prayed fervently for the eternal rest of her soul and offered my Holy Communion for that intention.

Throughout the day I was unsettled, and that night I slept fitfully. Once, I awoke suddenly, hearing something that sounded like my door being opened. Startled, I turned on the light, noting that the time on the clock on my nightstand showed ten minutes after midnight. The house was quiet and I saw nothing unusual. The only sound was from the waves of Lake Garda breaking monotonously on the garden wall. There was no wind. Nonetheless, I thought I heard something else after the rattling of the door, a swooshing sound like something being dropped. It reminded me of when my former office manager was in a bad mood and dropped some problem papers on my desk for me to resolve.

Should I get up and look around? I wondered. But since all remained quiet, it didn't seem worthwhile. It was probably just my imagination, somewhat overwrought by the news of the death of my friend. I rolled over, prayed several Our Fathers for the Poor Souls in Purgatory, and returned to sleep. I then dreamed that I arose at six to go to morning Mass in the house chapel.

Upon opening the door of my room, I stepped on a parcel containing the pages of a letter. I picked it up and recognized Anne's handwriting. I cried out in fright. My fingers trembled, and my mind was so shaken I couldn't even think to say an Our Father. I felt like I was suffocating, and needed open air to breathe. I hastily finished arranging myself, put the letter in my purse, and rushed from the house.

Once outside, I followed a winding path up through the hills, past the olive and laurel trees and the neighboring farms, and then on beyond the famous Gardesana highway. The day was breaking with the brilliant light of the morning sun. On other days, I would stop every hundred steps or so to marvel at the magnificent view of the lake and beautiful Garda Island. The sparkling blue tones of the water delighted me, and like a child gazing with awe at her grandfather, I would gaze with admiration upon the ashen-colored Mount Baldo that rose some 7,200 feet above the opposite shore of the lake.

On this morning, however, I was oblivious to everything around me. After walking a quarter of an hour, I sank mechanically to the ground on the riverbank between two cypress trees where only the day before I had been happily reading a novel, Lady Teresa. For the first time I looked at the cypress trees conscious of them as symbols of death, something I had taken no notice of before, since these trees are quite common here in the south.

I took the letter from my purse. There was no signature, but it was, beyond any doubt, the handwriting of Anne. There was no mistaking the large, flowing S or the French T she made that used to irritate Mr. G. at the office. It was not, however, written in her usual style of speaking, which was so amiable and charming, like her, with those blue eyes and elegant nose. Only when we discussed religious topics did she become sarcastic and take on the rude tone and agitated cadence of the letter I now began to read.

Here, word for word, is the Letter from Beyond of Anne V. as I read it in the dream.


Letter from Beyond

Claire!

Do not pray for me. I am damned. Do not think that I am telling you this and certain circumstances and details about my condemnation as a sign of friendship. Here we no longer love anyone. I do it on the command of "that power that never desires Evil and always does Good."

In truth, I would like to see you here where I will remain forever. (1)

(1) St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, Suppl., Q. 98, art. 4: "Therefore, they [the damned] will wish all the good were damned."



Do not be surprised that I should say this. We all think the same way here. Our will is hardened in evil - in what you call "evil." Even when we do something "good," as I do now in opening your eyes about Hell, it is not with any good intention.(2)

(2) In response to the Question whether every act of the will in the damned is evil, St. Thomas distinguishes the deliberate will and the natural will: "Their natural will is theirs not of themselves but of the Author of nature, Who gave nature this inclination which we call the natural will. Wherefore since nature remains in them, it follows that the natural will in them can be good.
"But their deliberate will is theirs of themselves, inasmuch as it is in their power to be inclined by their affections to this or that. This will is in them always evil: and this because they are completely turned away from the last end of a right will, nor can a will be good except it be directed to that same end. Hence even though they will some good, they do not will it well so that one is not able to call their will good on that account." Ibid., Q. 98, a. 1.



Do you remember when we worked together for four years in M. You were 23 and had already worked in the office for a half year when I arrived. You helped me out many times, and frequently gave me good advice while you were training me. But what is meant by that term "good"? At the time I praised your "charity." How ridiculous! You helped me to please your own vanity, as I suspected at the time. Here we don't acknowledge good in anyone!

You knew me in my youth, but I will fill in certain details. According to my parents' plans, I never should have existed. The disgrace of my conception was due to their carelessness. When I was born, my two sisters were already 14 and 15 years of age. How I wish that I had never been born! I wish I could annihilate myself at this moment and escape these torments! There could be no pleasure greater than to be able to end my existence, to do away with myself like a piece of cloth reduced to ashes, leaving no remnant behind.(3) But I must exist. I must be as I have made myself, bearing the total blame for how I have ended.

(3) Ibid., Q 98, a. 3, r. ib. Ad. 3: "Although 'not to be' is very evil in so far as it removes being, it is very good in so far as it removes unhappiness, which is the greatest if evils, and thus it is preferred 'not to be.'"



Before my parents married, they had moved away from their country villages to the city and drifted away from the Church, making friends with others who had fallen away from the practice of the faith. They met at a dance, and six months later they were "obliged" to get married. During the wedding ceremony a few drops of holy water fell on them, just enough to draw my mother to Sunday Mass a few times a year. She never taught me to pray correctly. She wore herself out over material concerns, even when our situation was not difficult.

It is only with deep repugnance and unspeakable disgust that I write words such as pray, Mass, holy water, and church. I profoundly detest those who go to church, along with everyone and everything in general. For us, everything is a torture. Everything we came to understand at death, every recollection of life and of what we knew, is like a burning flame that torments us. (4)

(4) Ibid., Q 98, a. 7, r.: "Accordingly, in the damned there will be actual consideration of the things they knew heretofore as matters of sorrow, but not as a cause of pleasure. For they will consider both the evil they have done, and for which they were damned, and the delightful goods they have lost, and on both counts they will suffer torments."



All of these memories only show us the horrible sight of the graces we rejected. How this tortures us now! We do not eat, we do not sleep, we do not walk with human legs as you know. Enchained in spirit, we reprobates stare with terror at our misspent lives, howling and gnashing our teeth, tormented and filled with hatred.

Do you hear me? Here we drink hatred as if it were water. We all hate one another. (5) And more than anything else, we hate God. I will try to make you understand how this is.

The blessed in Heaven must necessarily love Him, for they constantly behold Him in His awe-inspiring beauty. That makes them indescribably happy. We know this, and that knowledge fills us with fury. (6)

(5) Ibid., Q. 98, a. 4, r.: "Even as in the blessed in heaven there will be most perfect charity, so in the damned there will be the most perfect hate."
(6) Ibid., Q. 98, a. 9, r.: "The damned, before the judgment day, will see the blessed in glory, in such a way as to know, not what that glory is like, but only that they are in a state of glory that surpasses all thought. This will trouble them, both because they will, through envy, grieve for their happiness, and because they have forfeited that glory."



On earth, men know God through Creation and Revelation and are able to love Him, but they are not forced to do so. The believer – I say this seething with fury – who contemplates and meditates upon Christ extended on the Cross will love Him.

But when God approaches as Avenger and Judge, the soul who rejected Him will hate Him, as we hate Him. (7) That soul hates Him with all the strength of its perverse will. It hates Him eternally, by virtue of its deliberate resolution to reject God with which it ended its earthly life. This perverse act of the will can never be revoked, nor would we ever want to do so.

(7) Ibid., Q. 98, a. 8, sf 1, iba 5, r: "The damned do not hate God except because He punishes and forbids what is agreeable to their evil will [the evil that they still desire to do]: and consequently they will think of Him only as punishing and forbidding."



I am forced to add that even now God is still merciful to us. I say "forced" because even though I willingly write this letter, I cannot lie as I would like to. Much of what I put on this paper I write against my will. I also have to choke down the torrent of insults I would like to spew out against you and everything.

God is merciful even to us here in that He did not allow us to do all the evil we wanted to do while on earth. Had He permitted us to do so, we would have added greatly to our guilt and chastisement. He allowed some of us to die early – as is my case – or permitted attenuating circumstances in others. Even now He shows us mercy, for He does not oblige us to draw near to Him. He placed us in this distant place of Hell, thus diminishing our torment.(8 ) Every step closer to God would increase my suffering more than every step you might take toward a fire.

(8 ) Ibid., Part I, Q. 21, a. 4, ad. 1: "Even in the damnation of the reprobate mercy is seen, which, though it does not totally remit, it somewhat alleviates, in punishing short of what is deserved." In another note, the holy Doctor of the Church says that this is the case above all with those who in this world were merciful to others (Q. 99, a. 5, ad. 1).



You were astonished one day when I told you in passing what my father said to me some days prior to my First Communion. "Be sure you get a beautiful dress, little Anne," he said. "The rest is all a sham."

I was almost ashamed then for having shocked you so much, but now I laugh about it. The best part of this sham was that Communion was only allowed at 12 years of age. By then, I had already tasted enough of the pleasures of the world, so I didn't take Communion seriously.

The new custom of allowing children to receive Holy Communion at seven years of age infuriates us. We strive in every possible way to frustrate this, to make people believe that a child is too young to properly comprehend what Communion is or to think that children must commit serious sins before they can receive. The "white" host [that is, the Sacred Host] will then be less damaging than if He were received with faith, hope, and love, the fruits of Baptism – I spit upon all this! – which are still alive in a heart of a child. Do you recall that I already had this same point of view on earth?

I return now to my father. He fought a lot with my mother. I didn't often speak of this to you because I was ashamed of it. But what is shame? Something ridiculous! It makes no difference to us here.

After a while, my parents no longer slept in the same room. I slept with my mother, and my father slept in the adjoining room, which he would enter at all hours of the night. He drank heavily and spent everything we had. My sisters were employed but needed their money to live, or so they said. So my Mother went to work. In the last year of her bitter life, my father often beat her when she refused to give him money. With me, however, he was always very kind.

I told you all about this one day and you were scandalized at my capricious attitude - but what was there about me that didn't scandalize you? – such as when I returned new pairs of shoes twice in one day because the style of the heel wasn't modern enough for me.

On the night my father died from a stroke, something happened that I never told you because I didn't want to hear your interpretation. Today, however, you ought to know it. The fact is memorable, for it is the first time that my true cruel spirit revealed itself.

I was asleep in my mother's bedroom. She was sleeping deeply, as I could tell from her regular breathing. Suddenly, I heard someone say my name. An unfamiliar voice murmured, "What would happen if your father were to die?"

I no longer loved my father after he had begun to mistreat my mother. Properly speaking, I no longer loved anyone. I only had some attachments to certain persons who were kind to me. Love without a natural motive rarely exists except in souls that live in the state of grace, which I did not.

"I'm sure he's not dying," I replied to the mysterious interlocutor. After a brief interval, I heard the same question. Without troubling myself as to its source, I sullenly replied, "It doesn't matter. He's not dying."

For the third time the question came: "What would happen were your father to die?" In a flash certain scenes passed quickly through my mind: my father coming home drunk, his scolding and fighting with my mother, how he often embarrassed us in front of our neighbors and acquaintances.

I cried out obstinately: "All right, then, it's what he deserves. Let him die!"

Afterward, everything became still. The following morning, when my mother went upstairs to straighten father's room, she found the door locked. Around noon they forced it open. Father was lying half-dressed on his bed – dead, a corpse. He probably took a chill while hunting for beer in the cellar. He had already been sick for a long time. [Could it be that God had depended upon the will of a child, to whom this man had shown some goodness, to grant him more time and an opportunity to convert?]

Marta K. and you made me enroll in a sodality for young women. I never told you how absurd I found the instructions of the two directors, although the games were amusing enough. As you know, I quickly came to play a preponderant role in them, which flattered me. I also found the excursions pleasant. I even allowed myself at times to be taken to Confession and receive Holy Communion. I really had nothing to confess, for I never paid heed to answering for my thoughts and sentiments. And I was still not ready for worse things.

One day you admonished me: "Anne, you will be lost if you don't pray more." In truth I prayed very little, and always reluctantly and with annoyance. You were indisputably right. All those who burn in Hell either did not pray or did not pray enough. Prayer is the first step toward God. It is always decisive, especially prayer to that one who is the Mother of God, whose name it is not licit to pronounce. Devotion to her draws innumerable souls away from the devil, souls who by their sins would otherwise have fallen into his hands.

I continue, but with fury, being obliged to do so. Praying is the easiest thing one can do on earth. God rightly linked salvation to this simplest of actions. To those who persevere in prayer, God grants, little by little, so much light and strength that even a drowning sinner can be raised up and saved, even if he is immersed in mud up to his chest. In fact, in the last years of my life I no longer prayed at all, and thus deprived myself of the graces without which no one can be saved.

Here we no longer receive any grace. Even if we were to receive it, we would reject it with disdain. All the vacillations of earthly life come to an end in the beyond. In earthly life, man can pass from a state of sin to the state of grace. From grace he can fall into sin. I often fell from weakness, rarely from malice. But with death, this fluctuating "yes" and "no," this rising and falling, comes to an end. With death, every individual enters into his final state, fixed and unalterable.

As one advances in age, the rises and falls become fewer. It is true that until death one can either convert or turn ones back upon God. In death, however, man makes his decision with the last tremors of his will, mechanically, the same way he did throughout his life. A good or bad habit becomes second nature, and this is what moves a person one way or another in his final moments. So it was with me. For years I had lived apart from God. Consequently, when I received that final call of grace, I decided against Him. It was fatal not because I had sinned so much, but rather because I had refused so often to amend my life.

You repeatedly admonished me to listen to sermons and read pious books, but I always made excuses for myself, citing a lack of time. What more could I have done to increase my inner uncertainty?

By the time I reached this critical point, which was shortly before I left the sodality for young women, it would have been difficult for me to follow any other path. I felt insecure and unhappy. I had erected a huge wall that stood in the way of my conversion, although you apparently didn't realize it. You must have thought I could convert quite easily when you said to me once: "Anne, make a good confession and everything will be all right." I suspected that what you said was true, but the world, the flesh, and the devil already had me securely in their clutches.

I never believed in the action of the devil, but now I attest that the devil exercises a powerful influence over persons such as I was then.(9) Only many prayers on the part of others and myself, together with sacrifices and sufferings, would have managed to wrench me away from him. And then only slowly.

(9) Devils and demons are the names given to the evil spirits that exercise this influence. For proof of their existence two texts from Holy Scriptures suffice: "Be sober and watch, because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, goes about seeking whom he may devour" (I Peter 5:8 ).
"Put you on the armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the deceits of the devil. For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood; but against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of this darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places" (Ephes. 6:11-12).
There are very few persons who are physically possessed by the devil, but many who are possessed interiorly. The devil cannot take the free will from those who give themselves over to his influence. Yet as a chastisement for one's almost total apostasy from God, He permits that person to be dominated by "evil."



I hate the devil, and yet I like him because he and his helpers, the angels that fell with him at the beginning of time, strive to make you lose your souls. There are myriads of demons. Uncountable numbers of them wander through the world like swarms of flies, their presence not even suspected. Condemned souls like us are not the ones who tempt you; this is left to the fallen spirits. (10) Our torments increase every time they bring another soul to Hell, but we still want to see everyone condemned. Hatred is capable of anything! (11)

(10) Summa Theologica, Suppl., Q. 98, a. 6, ad. 2: "Men who are damned are not occupied in drawing others to damnation, as the demons are."
(11) Ibid., Q. 98, a. 4, ad. 3: "Although an increase in the number of the damned results in an increase of each one's punishment, so much the more will their hatred and envy increase that they will prefer to be more tormented with many, rather than less tormented alone."



Even though I tried to avoid Him, God sought me out. I prepared the way for grace by the works of natural charity I often did, following the natural inclination of my nature. At times, too, God attracted me to a church. When I took care of my sick mother even after a hard day of work at the office, which was no small sacrifice for me, I strongly felt these attractions to the grace of God.

Once, in the hospital chapel where you used to take me during our free time at mid-day, I was so moved that I found myself just one step away from conversion. I wept.

The pleasures of the world, however, shortly swept me up in a torrent and drowned out this grace. The thorns choked out the wheat. Making the rationalization that religion is sentimentalism, the argument I heard at the office, I cast away this grace also, like so many others.

Once you reprimanded me because instead of genuflecting in church, I made only a slight inclination of my head. You thought it was laziness, not suspecting that I already no longer believed in the presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament. I believe it now, although only naturally, as one believes in a storm, by perceiving its signs and effects.

In the meantime, I had found for myself a religion. The general opinion in the office, that after death a soul would return to this world as another being, with an endless succession of dying and returning again, pleased me. With this, I shut out the distressing problem of the hereafter to the point that I imagined it no longer troubled me.

Why didn't you remind me of the parable of the rich man and poor Lazarus, in which the narrator sent one to Hell and the other to Paradise after they died? But what good would this reminder have done? I would have just considered it just more of your pious advice.

Little by little I arranged a god, one privileged enough to be called a god, and at the same time distant enough that I didn't have to deal with him. I made him confusing enough to allow me to transform him, at will and without need to change religions, into a pantheistic god, or even to permit me to become a proud Deist.

This "god" had neither a heaven to console me nor a hell to frighten me. I left him in peace. This is what my adoration of him consisted of. One easily believes in what one loves. With the passing of years, I became sufficiently convinced of my religion. I lived at ease with it, without its causing me any inconvenience.

Only one thing would have been able to bring me to my senses: a profound and prolonged suffering. But this suffering never came. Do you now understand that saying, "Whom God loves, He chastises"?

One summer day in July the sodality of young women organized an outing. Yes, I liked those outings, but not the pious beatas who went on them! I had recently placed an image very different from the one of Our Lady of Grace on the altar of my heart. It was that fine manly figure of Max N. from the nearby office. We had already conversed several times. On this occasion, he invited me out on the same Sunday that the sodality outing was planned. Another woman whom he had been dating was in the hospital.

He had noticed, of course, that I had my eyes on him, but I had never thought of marrying him. He was wealthy, but too friendly with all the young ladies, in my opinion. Up until then I had wanted a man who would belong exclusively to me, and I would be his alone. Thus, I had always kept a certain distance between us.

(This is true. There was something noble about Anne, notwithstanding her religious indifference. It astonishes me that "sincere" persons like her can also fall into Hell if they are insincere enough to flee from facing God.)

Max began to shower me with attentions from the day of that outing. Our conversation, of course, was certainly different from that of your pious women. The next day in the office, you reprimanded me for not having gone with you. I then told you about my Sunday diversion.

Your first question was: "Did you go to Mass?" How ridiculous! How could I have gone to Mass when we had agreed to leave at six in the morning? Do you remember that I heatedly added, "The good God is not so mean-spirited as your little priests!" Now I am forced to confess to you that, His infinite goodness notwithstanding, God takes everything much more seriously than any priest.

After this first outing with Max, I only attended one more of your sodality meetings. I was attracted to some of the Christmas solemnities, but I had already dissociated myself from you interiorly. What interested me were movies, dances, and excursions. At times Max and I argued, but I knew how to keep him interested in me.

After being released from the hospital, my rival was furious with me, and I found her quite disagreeable. Her anger worked in my favor, though, for my discreet calm impressed Max and ultimately led him to choose me over her. I knew just how to belittle her. I would speak calmly, seeming to be entirely objective, but spewing venom from within. Insinuations and actions like this can rapidly lead one to Hell. They are diabolical, in the true sense of the word.

Why am I telling you this? To show you how I came to separate myself definitively from God. To remove myself so far, it was not even necessary to be entirely familiar with Max. I knew that if I lowered myself to that too soon, he would think less of me. So I restrained myself and refused. In truth, I was ready to do anything I thought useful to reach my aim. I would stop at nothing to win Max.

Gradually we fell in love, for both of us possessed certain admirable qualities that we could mutually appreciate. I was talented and had become a good conversationalist, so I eventually had Max in my hands, secure that he belonged only to me, at least in those last months before our wedding.

This is what constituted my apostasy from God: making a mere creature into my god. The way this can be more fully realized is between two persons of opposite sex, if they have only a material love. For this becomes the allure, the sting, and the venom. The "adoration" I rendered to Max became an ardent religion for me.

At this stage of my life I would still at times hypocritically run off during the office lunch hour to go to church, to listen to the silly priests, to say the Rosary, and other such foolishness.

You strove, with more or less intelligence, to encourage such practices, but apparently without suspecting that, in final analysis, I no longer believed in any of these things. I only sought to set my conscience at ease – I still needed that – in order to justify my apostasy. In the depth of my soul I lived in revolt against God. You did not perceive that. You always thought I was still Catholic. I wanted to be seen as such, and I even went so far as to make contributions to the church, thinking that a little "insurance" couldn't hurt me.

As sure as you were with your answers, they always bounced off me. I was sure that you could not be right. This strained our relationship, and when my marriage put some distance between us, the pain of our separation was slight. Before my wedding, I went to Confession and Holy Communion one more time, but it was a mere formality. My husband thought the same as I. We carried out that formality just like any other. You would call that "unworthy." But after that "unworthy" Communion I had greater peace of mind. It was the last one of my life.

Our married life was generally harmonious. We shared the same opinion on just about everything. That included our opinion regarding children: We didn't want the burden. Deep down, my husband wanted one child, but naturally no more. I was able to remove even this notion from his head. I preferred fine clothing and furniture, tea with the ladies, automobile excursions, and other such amusements. And so a year of earthly pleasure passed from our wedding day until my sudden death.

Every Sunday we went for a drive or visited my husband's relatives - I was ashamed of my mother then. My husband's relatives, like us, swam well on the surface of life. Inside, however, I never felt truly happy. Something always gnawed at my soul. I hoped that death, which was certainly far off in the future, would put an end to this.

When I was a child, I once heard in a sermon that God rewards the good one does. If He does not reward one in the next life, He will do it on earth. Without my expecting it, I received an inheritance [from my Aunt L]. At the same time my husband received a considerable raise in his salary. With this, we were able to furnish our new house quite well.

Any attachment to religion I might have had was almost gone, like the last glimmer of light on the far horizon. The bars and cafes of the city and the restaurants where we ate on our travels did not draw us any closer to God. Everyone who frequented them lived as we did, concerned about externals, and not matters of the soul.

Once in our travels we visited a famous cathedral, but just to appreciate the artistic value of its masterpieces. I knew how to neutralize the religious air of the Middle Ages that it radiated, and I seized every opportunity for ridicule. I made fun of the lay brother who served as our guide; I criticized the pious monks for their business of making and selling liqueur; I disparaged the eternal pealing of the bells calling the people to the churches as solicitations only for money. Thus I rejected every grace that came knocking at my door.

In particular, I let my sarcasm flow profusely at every depiction of Hell in the books, the cemeteries, and other places, where one could find devils roasting souls in red or yellow fires while their long-tailed associates kept arriving with more victims.

Hell might be poorly drawn, Claire, but it can never be exaggerated.

Above all, I always scoffed at the fire of Hell. Do you recall our conversation about the fire of Hell when I jokingly put a lit match under your nose and asked, "Does it smell like this?" You quickly blew out the match, but here no one extinguishes the fire. Let me tell you something else - the fire that the Bible speaks about is not just the torment of conscience. Fire means fire. That is just what He meant when he said, "Depart from Me, ye accursed, into the everlasting fire." Quite literally.

"How can the spirit be affected by material fire?" you ask.
How, then, can your soul suffer on earth when you put your finger in the fire? Your soul itself does not burn, but what the man as a whole suffers!

In like manner, here we are imprisoned in a fire in our being and our faculties. Our souls are deprived of their natural movements. We can neither think nor want what we used to desire.(12) Do not even try to comprehend a mystery that goes against the laws of material nature: the fire of Hell burns without consuming.

Our greatest torment consists in knowing with certainty that we will never see God. How greatly we are tortured by that which we were indifferent to while on earth! When the knife lies on the table, it leaves you cold. You see its sharp edge, but you don't feel it. But the moment it enters your flesh, you scream with pain. Before, we only saw the loss of God; now we feel it. (13)

(12) Ibid., Suppl., Q. 70, a. 3, r.: "Accordingly we must unite all the aforesaid modes together, in order to understand perfectly how the soul suffers from a corporeal fire: so as to say that the fire of its nature is able to have an incorporeal spirit united to it as a thing placed is united to a place; that as the instrument of Divine Justice it is enabled to detain it enchained as it were, and in this respect this fire is really hurtful to the spirit, and thus the soul seeing the fire as something hurtful to it is tormented by the fire."
(13) St. Augustine said, "The separation from God is a torment as great as God." Cf. Houdry, Bibliotheca concionatorum (Venice, 1786), vol 2, "Infernus," No. 4, p. 427.



All the souls do not suffer equally. The more frivolous, malicious, and resolute one was in sin, the more the loss of God weighs upon the soul and the more tortured he feels for the abused creature.

Catholics who are damned suffer more than those of other beliefs because, in general, they received more lights and graces without taking advantage of them. The ones who knew more suffer more than those who had less knowledge. Those who sinned out of malice suffer more than those who fell from weakness. No one, however, suffers more than he deserves. Would that this were not true, so that I might have more reason to hate!

You once told me that no one goes to Hell without knowing it. This was revealed to some saint. I laughed at that, but the thought was entrenched in my mind. If this were the case, then there would be enough time for me to convert – that is how I thought in my heart.

What you said was true. Before my sudden end, I had no idea of what Hell really is. No human being does. But I had no doubt about this: should I die, I would enter into eternity in a state of revolt against God, and I would suffer the consequences. As I already have told you, I did not change my course but continued along the same path, impelled by habit, just as people act with greater deliberation and regularity as they grow older.

Now, I will tell you how my death occurred.

One week ago – I speak to you in the terms by which you measure time, for judging by the pain I have endured, I could already have been burning in Hell for ten years. Therefore, on a Sunday one week ago, my husband and I went for a drive. It was the last one for me.

The day was radiant and beautiful. I felt well and at ease, as I rarely did. An ominous presentiment, however, came over me as we drove. On the way home that evening my husband and I were unexpectedly blinded by the lights of a car rapidly approaching from the opposite direction. My husband lost control of our car.

"Jesus!" I shouted, not as a prayer, but as a scream. I felt a crushing pain – a trifle in comparison with my present torment. Then I lost consciousness. How strange! On that very morning, the idea had come to me unexpectedly that I could, after all, go to Mass again. It entered my mind almost like a supplication. My "No!" – strong and determined – nipped the thought in the bud. I must finish with this once and for all, I thought, and I assumed all the consequences. And now I endure them.

You know what happened after my death. The grief of my husband and my mother, my body laid out and the burial. You know all this down to the last detail, as do I through a natural intuition we have here. We have only a confused knowledge of what transpires in the world, but we know something of what concerned us. Thus I know also your whereabouts. (14)

(14) S. Th. Suppl., Q. 98, a 7,: "Accordingly, in the damned there will be actual consideration of the things they knew heretofore as matters of sorrow, but not as a cause of pleasure."



At the moment of my death I awoke from a darkness. I found myself suddenly enveloped by a blinding light. It was at the same place where my body lay. It seemed almost like a theater, when the lights suddenly go out, the curtain noisily opens, and a tragically illuminated scene appears: the scene of my life.

I saw my soul as in a mirror. I saw the graces I had trampled underfoot from the time I was young until that final "No!" given to God. I felt like an assassin brought to trial before its inanimate victim. Repent? Never! (15) Did I feel shame for my actions? Not at all!

(15) Ibid., Q. 98, a. 2, r.: "Accordingly the wicked will not repent of their sins directly [that is, out of hatred of sin], because consent in the malice of sin will remain in them; but they will repent indirectly, inasmuch as they will suffer from the punishment inflicted on them for sin."



Notwithstanding, it was impossible for me to remain in the presence of the God I had denied and rejected. Only one thing remained for me: flight. Thus, just as Cain fled from the body of Abel, so my soul sought to flee far from this terrible sight.

That was my private judgment. The invisible Judge spoke: "Depart from Me!" and my soul swiftly fell, like a sulfurous shadow, into the place of eternal torment! (16)

(16) It is certain that Hell is a determined place. But where this place is situated, no one knows. That the punishment of Hell is eternal is a dogma, certainly the most terrible of all, rooted in Sacred Scripture: "Then he shall say to them also that shall be on his left hand: Depart from me, you cursed, into everlasting fire which was prepared for the devil and his angels…And these shall go into everlasting punishment; but the just, into life everlasting" (Matt. 25:41, 46).
See also II Thess. 1:9, Jude 1:13; Apoc. 14:11, 20:10. All are irrefutable texts, in which the word "everlasting" cannot be misunderstood or interpreted as "a long time."



If it were inappropriate to illustrate this dogma, then Our Lord Himself would not have done so in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. He described Hell in the same way that it was done here – he showed that it existed and what one must do not to fall into it. The purpose of the parable was not to excite the senses, but the same one that occasioned this publication. The aim of this booklet finds expression in these words, "Let us think of Hell while we are still living, so that we will not fall into it after we die." This counsel is but the paraphrasing of Psalm 54: "Descendat in infernum viventes, videlicet, ne descendant morientes," which is found in a statement (erroneously) attributed to St. Bernard (Migne, Patr. Lat., vol. 184, Col. 314 b).

Some closing words from Claire


Thus ended the letter from Anne about Hell. The last letters were so twisted as to be almost illegible. When I finished reading the last word, the entire letter turned to ashes.

What was I hearing? After those harsh notes of the lines I imagined I was reading, what came to my ears was the sweet reality of bells ringing. I awoke suddenly to find myself still in bed. The early morning light was entering the room. From the parish Church came the sound of the bells ringing the Angelus.

Had it only been a dream? I never felt such consolation in praying the Angelic Salutation as I did after this dream. I said the three Hail Marys. And as I prayed them, this thought came to me very clearly: One must always stay close to Our Lord's Blessed Mother and venerate her filially if one does not want to suffer the same fate related to me here - albeit in a dream - by a soul that will never see God.

Still frightened and shaking from that night's revelation, I got up, dressed myself hastily, and rushed to the convent chapel. My heart was beating violently and unevenly. The houseguests kneeling closest to me looked at me with concern. Perhaps they thought that I was breathless and flushed from running down the stairs.

A kindly lady from Budapest, frail as a child and nearsighted, suffering greatly but lofty of spirit and fervent in the service of God, spoke to me that afternoon in the garden. "My dear child," she said, "Our Lord does not want to be served in such haste."

But then she perceived that it was something else that had excited me and made me so overwrought. She added kindly: "Let nothing distress you. You know the advice of Saint Teresa - let nothing alarm you. All things pass. He who possesses God lacks nothing. God alone suffices."

While she humbly consoled me with these words, without any sermonizing tone, she seemed to be reading my soul.

"God alone suffices." Yes, God must suffice for me – in this life and in the next. I want to possess Him there one day for all eternity however numerous may be the sacrifices I have to make here in order to triumph. I do not want to fall into Hell.

"There is blindness much worse than loss of physical sight, the blindness of heart. So many are heading for the flames blindly. Man seeks to destroy the evidence of Hell, but he will learn the truth soon enough. Hell exists and Heaven exists. The sins of the flesh send more souls to hell." - Jesus, October 2, 1970

Our Lady of the Roses awesome Bayside Prophecies... http://www.tldm.org/../Bayside/ These prophecies came from Jesus, Mary, and the saints to Veronica Lueken at Bayside, NY, from 1968 to 1995.

A CHOICE
"Your life upon your earth is but a short pilgrimage. Your life eternal is forever. And where shall you be when you pass over the veil? The choice is yours, My children." - Our Lady of the Roses - December 7, 1976

THE STENCH
Veronica - Oh, my goodness! I see--oh, it's a stench! The odor is so horrible! I see a huge pit, and it's real burning. The walls are orange and burning hot. Oh! Oh, and I see these horrible creatures; they're clinging to the sides of the rocks. Some have wings on them with horrible--they look almost human, half human, half animal, but they have pointed ears. And they have ... "oh, my God! Please, Blessed Mother, take me out of here!" Oh, my God, they have feet that look like claws and arms with hair, but they also--the fingers have long fingernails; they're like claws. And they have the most horrible grinning expressions on their faces. Now I see, I see bodies of humans falling, falling. As they fall they're starting to glow. They're glowing like an orange color, like coals. And they're screaming, "Help! Mercy! Mercy! Too late! Too late!" Oh! Oh, my God! And I see they're going so fast. I don't know where they're falling from. They seem to be raining, like almost from the sky into this pit. And I see--oh, my God! I see some are priests. Oh! Oh, and I see one, he has oh, my God!-a cardinal's hat on his head. And there are three. Now I can count them, there are three. They have mitres on their heads. Oh, my God! Oh, it's so horrible! The heat is so great, and the stench! I feel like I'm just burning....
Our Lady - "My child, you have viewed the poor souls lost forever into eternity." - Our Lady of the Roses, September 7, 1974

PARENTS
"Parents are responsible for the guidance and the salvation now of their children's souls. Discipline must be returned to the homes, and parents must set an example of purity and godliness in their homes. Do not expect others to replace you in guiding your children. It is your duty; it is your purpose; it is your station in life; and you will not reject your responsibility, for then you reject your children and will cast them onto the road to hell." - Jesus, April 10, 1976

FREE WILL
"Repent of your ways, and you will be accepted back into the Kingdom. No man shall fall into hell unless he has gone this way of his own free will, My child." - Our Lady of the Roses, February 10, 1975

HOMOSEXUALITY
"Homosexuality shall not be condoned. It is an abomination in the eyes of the Eternal Father, and as such, is condemning many to hell." - Jesus, June 18. 1991

MITRES
"There will be many mitres in hell. Many priests are on the road to damnation; with them they take others. For this, the lowest pit of the abyss will be eternity! Those entrusted in My Son's House w ill be held accountable for the fall of young souls. Your rank will be no guarantee of your entrance into the Kingdom." - Our Lady of the Roses, July 25, 1972

COMMANDMENTS
"These are the Commandments of the Father. Break one and the gates of hell are open to you." - Moses, March 24, 1974