All these factors, along with the difficult language and the rough style of Dienach’s notes, which mixed together elements of his past, along with his experience of the future, made the diary even more difficult to understand. Only a few had the time, patience, and knowledge to decode the secret knowledge that lay encoded within almost 1,000 pages.
Another edition followed in 1979 in Greece. However, again the book disappeared and it was hardly mentioned again, apart from the few that knew of its existence.
After all the silence, Papahatzis died, and his family did not wish to carry on with his work.
Twenty two years passed before the diary was picked up again by Radamanthis Anastasakis, a high ranking member of the Masonic Lodge in Greece, who decided to publish the book on a small scale, exactly as it was previously written.
That's when I discovered the book for the first time and started to "restore" it, without the sentimentalities that kept Papahatzis from doing something more than an exact translation of the ‘holy’ scripts of his teacher. Almost a century after the original script was written, this was a task that had to be undertaken so that a 21st century reader could really understand what a 20th century man wanted to say.
And so I did it, making sure not to change any of the content, but filtering out irrelevant notes pertaining to Dienach’s early life and emphasizing his experience of the future, but in a simpler language and without the gaps that Dienach’s narration had.
I have tried to keep the true essence of his story intact. This was my debt to Dienach, whose chronicles of the future completely changed my perspective of life. Nothing more, nothing less. My only goal was to make it accessible to all of you, because if Dienach’s experience was indeed real, this book contains revolutionary information – something the Masons clearly recognized – and has the potential to radically change your view of the world and mankind.
Now that you know the background to this unique story, I will simply deposit the future in your hands with an abstract from the introduction of the 1979 edition of the book by George Papahatzis, the man who personally knew Dienach:
The translator of the original texts, knew Dienach personally. His belief is that the inspiration and writing of these texts wasn’t an imaginary creation of Dienach, based on his education and insightful abilities. It is a true phenomenon of parapsychology that was linked to his life.
Maybe he has also added his own things, maybe he didn’t see or live all of the events that he so vividly describes and presents. What is certain is that most of the basic elements of his texts are true experiences that he had; he lived in advance a part of the future to come and a metaphysical phenomenon of incredible clarity happened to him - a phenomenon of parapsychology that rarely happens with such an intensity and roughness. Because of him, what is going to happen on Earth starting from the last decades of the 20th century up to 3906
AD, is now known to us, at least in general terms.
I have to tell you that while Papahatzis was just a student at the time of receiving Dienach’s diary, he went on to become a very respectable man of his era. He was Vice President of the
European Movement (National Council of Greece), Founding Member of the Greek Philosophical Society, and a Professor of Philosophy and Culture. He risked a lot in publishing Dienach’s work and this on its own reflects his unwavering belief in its authenticity.
Now I leave you with Dienach’s diary, a chronicle from the future…
23rd May 2015
Chronicles from the Future: Diary Page -
December 2nd 1918
FIRST DIARY - MEMORIES FROM THE PAST
December 2nd 1918
I’ve decided to write a little bit every day, so that I can tell my sad story, little by little, from the beginning till the end.
During the first 21 years of my life you’d think I was the happiest person on earth. It’s been 11 years since then, 11 unbearable years. The only thing I’m now longing for is some solace, or something to keep me occupied…
It feels like yesterday, those holy days of craving that never-ending happiness with Ann. It can’t be true that this love has had such a sad and unfixable ending , that Ann has been dead for so many years now, that everything has faded away… No, I can’t believe it, 9 whole years without her.
“Why do you keep torturing yourself by thinking about all that?”, they ask me. I understand. I need closure, but it is hard to find.
You don’t know it, but our love was not an ordinary love-story. We were still at school when we fell in love with each other. Since then I had been imagining her name next to mine…
That man, who brought destruction into our lives and sent her to the grave, never loved her!
He never considered Ann his one and only, like I did. He never saw anything in her eyes.
When I was little, I would stare for hours through my window, which overlooked hers. And when the weather got nasty, that’s when I didn’t even move from there! I saw the people pacing quickly, smiling at the thought of a warm soup and a cozy bed at home, while I was wishing that the weather would continue so that I’d have a better chance of seeing her.
“What is Ann feeling at the moment? What does this colorless world look like through her eyes?” I’d think.
And when I saw her under the light of the lamp, holding her embroidery, my longing became a life goal vindicated, my salvation from loneliness…
Only on holidays did I wish for good weather, because a storm would lessen my chances to run into Ann and her family in the park. But still, I got nervous. I would have to say hello and it would be embarrassing for her parents to see me turn pale.
How happy were the days that came after! Shortly before her brother left the city to study, I got to know him better. He invited me home and I went many times indeed. I swear to God, my acquaintance with Anna was not a product of my own initiative. I would have never found the courage. Those who have loved purely and vigorously in their early teenage years are well aware of that, and deeply understand it.
In the early days, not even Anna had realized a thing; she was only looking forward to my next visit so that she could give me a different present each time - travel books, colored pencils… I still remember the first time I saw her at church dressed in white. “How did her eyelashes grow so much all at once?” I thought to myself. I also remember that during my last year in high school, all the margins of my books had her name written on them.
One day I couldn’t help myself and she noticed my tear filled eyes. We were sitting in the living room with a huge book opened in front of us on the table. Her mother was sitting right next to her. I will never forget her gaze. It took the form of a massive question mark. It was so serious; too serious for her age.
We didn’t say another word and quickly closed the book. Angry at myself, I wiped my eyes, hastily said goodbye to her mother and rushed out of there. I cried myself to sleep that night.
It would be my fault if I never saw her again.
Eleven days passed. One afternoon, on my way back home early, I heard noises from the living room. I walked in and, who would have thought, Ann was there with her mother!
Before I could get a grip I had to greet the ladies. Ann was completely unabashed, like nothing was going on. A boy could have never disguised himself as well as she did! The visit had been her idea.
