Personal Accounts

I don't believe I realized at the time what it was but when I was in kindergarten the teacher mentioned something about the war (which would have been WW1 since I am 78 years old now) and I remember putting my hand up and relating a story about being a nurse in the war and being killed. My teacher asked if this was a relative and I was embarrassed and said "yes". One day when my mother picked me up from school, the teacher said how sorry she was to hear that one of my mother's relatives, a nurse, had been killed in the war. I remember my mother telling her she didn't know what she meant, she didn't have any female relatives in the war, so she let is go at that. It just seemed to come out of me, the telling of the story, and I forgot about it until I began studying reincarnation and what it could mean as a philosophy of life.
Another incident which seems to have been a past-life recollection was when I was in my 40's. I had been reading a book about Benjamin Franklin, about whom I had never really known very much except the kite, etc.. I put down the book and turned out the light and I quickly began seeing an episode in my mind as follows: I am standing at the head of a flight of stairs, I can look down at the tips of my shoes beneath a skirt of blue brocade and at the bottom of the stairs is the front door of my house with several men arriving to see my husband,among whom was Benjamin Franklin ( I knew my husband's name for a short time but it soon disappeared from my memory) My husband was French and a Hugenot and some how associated evidently with some of the founders of our country. I don't know more than that but we did live down the street from a building with many flags on the front. That is all I know but I know it was a past-life recollection because it was different from any dream I have ever had, it just passed through my mind and I was while experiencing it.
I strongly believe in reincarnation and believe that there are some times in history which are more important to me than others such as the Roman Empire, and Tudor England. These times fascinate me and have encouraged me to read many books about those times. I also believe that each lifetime is a learning experience and if you have problems and can learn from them, you can progress in your next life.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity of telling these experiences, I have never told many people about them.

I am a 52 year old female living in Texas. About 20 years ago I went to a hypnotist who specialized in past-life regressions, although she said she did not really believe in reincarnation. During my regression, I found myself on a wide river in a canoe. I felt that the area was somewhere north of New York, maybe in Canada, and the time period was sometime around the 1700s. I was a young, strong Native American male, about 20 years old. I saw the tent (or tipi) that I lived in with my wife. It was larger than I would have expected a tipi to be -- a diameter of maybe 10 feet or more. I saw my wife holding our baby son. In my current life as a woman, I am very interested in babies and small children. Although I don't have any children of my own, I find them fascinating, and I like to talk to them and get them interested in me. In my regression, there was none of that feeling. As a young man, I felt annoyed with the child's crying, and couldn't wait to get away and be with the other men of the tribe. I was not at all interested in the baby, even though he was my son. That's what convinces me that this was probably a true memory-- that in it I was so unlike the woman that I am in this current lifetime. In my regression, I could see my wife very vividly. She was short and plump with long black hair and a round face, and wore long, robe-like garments. I felt that she wished I would stay home more to be with her and the baby, but I was simply not interested. I liked to spend time with the older men of the tribe and my friends who were my age. The next thing I remember was being in a battle with white soldiers. We had simple knives as weapons, but they had guns. We had never seen guns before. It was a quick battle-- they shot us all and left. I can remember lying on the ground, hearing some of the other men from my tribe moaning. I wished the white soldiers had finished us off, but they just left us, some of us dying slowly. It took me the rest of that day, a night, and most of the next day to die. I don't remember feeling pain, but I do remember lying on my back, unable to get up, looking up at the sun. It was so excrutiatingly bright that it really hurt my eyes. I couldn't turn away from it, but just had to look up at it or close my eyes. It was like torture. In my current life, I don't really like sunny days as the sun hurts my eyes, and now I believe that comes from that lifetime. I wonder what happened to the women, children and old men of the tribe after all the young men were killed. I also wonder if my child lived on and if I might have descendents from that lifetime alive today. I was not a very good father to my little son, and perhaps that's why I don't have children in this lifetime. I would also like to note that I am not particularly interested in Native Americans in my current lifetime, so it surprised me that I remembered being a Native American in a past life.

I was regressed by a friend who was a professional psychologist (she has her Masters or PhD) a few years ago. The regression explained a severe fear of storms that I had as a child. The regression even produced a spot on my leg that spontaneous started bleeding during the regression. When I came out of the regression we wiped my leg but there was no mark where the blood was coming from on my leg. My friend did not notice it since she has poor eyesight and was sitting across the room. I noticed it when I sat up because the blood was running down my leg from a spot mid-thigh. My friend was quite amazed because she had never seen anyone bleed from past life injuries.
When I was regressed my friend told me to go back to the earliest time I remember. I started to go back to what looked like ancient Egypt but my mind did not want to settle there. Instead I went to a time that could have been anywhere from 1600's to 1800's. Since I don't know much about history I am not able to pinpoint the exact era. I was on a sailing vessel, was an officer of some sort and was from money. When the ship came into port, instead of getting drunk and fraternizing with women of low repute, I sought out an inn to get a decent meal. I did not associate with the crew since I was a foreigner (my native tongue was different from the rest of the crew and captain) and was from a different social status. While in port a fierce storm was moving into port and much against my warnings, the captain insisted that we leave port. Not far out to sea the ship went down and I believe that my leg was either pinned or hurt. My friend kept asking me what I looked like but all I could see were my arms and legs. I got quite frustrated with her because she kept asking me what my face and hair looked like and I could not see them. She later told me that this is how she often checks to see if it is a true regression. As the ship was going down I became increasingly agitated and she asked me to move forward in time. Everything went black, then I saw a brilliant flash of white light, and then nothing. When I came out of the regression, I noticed my leg bleeding. Upon reflection/analysis/discussion with my friend, I came to the conclusion that if we really do have past lives and regression real and not a false memory, then this would could be an explanation of my extreme fear of storms as a child. As a child I would hide under my parents bed until the age of about 12. After the age of 12, I would pull the blankets over my head to block out the lightening and try to drown out the thunder with pillows. Eventually I was able to lie in bed awake until the storm would pass. I finally grew out of the fear by the age of 20 but still remained uneasy until my 30's. Now I can sleep through the storms if they are not too severe and can fall back asleep if jolted away by a loud clap of thunder or bright flash of lightening.

I emigrated to the U.S. from Ukraine. Recently I watched a TV show about lighthouse in Crimea peninsula which became a source of conflict between Russia and Ukraine. I read on the lighthouse’s gates "Sarych". I have never heard either this name or this word, however, the phrase "Sarych na keechku!" immediately popped up in my head. It is important to note that I almost forcefully pronounced this phrase in the form of outcry. The feeling that I have to outcry this phrase continued for the following several days. I came to the conclusion that this is an outcry of the attacking warrior during Mongol invasion in old Turk language. I thought to myself that this phrase means the call to attack the place named Sarych and the word "keechku" or "keechka" means "spear". I concluded that the warrior cried this phrase out right before he was killed. However, I don’t know Turk language, I have never lived among Tatars, and I have never been in Crimea. In my search for an answer of this mystery I contacted many old Turk language experts in Simferopol’, Ukraine and Kazan’, Russia (places with predominately Tatar population). Finally one professional linguist told me that this phrase means the call for weapon or call for attack in an old Turk language. Obviously, his explanation is almost the same as my contemplation. At that moment I understood that this is a result of reincarnation and I used to be a Mongol warrior in my past life.

I try to keep an open mind about things, and reincarnation is one of them. In my life, there have been odd things that have occurred that makes me wonder, though I have never investigated them further.
Growing up, the kids in my block used to make fun of me because when we played cowboys and indians, I always wore my "guns" with the butt of the pistol out, and preferred to crossdraw, rather than the normal way. I just felt comfortable that way. I have always had an intense dislike for General Custer, but an admiration for President Lincoln. In one bizarre episode, we were on a field trip to Springfield, and as I stood in front of a picture of Abraham Lincoln, I blurted out before I knew what I was saying, My God, what have they done to you? I felt a wave of sadness and grief to this day I cannot explain. As I got older, I talked a friend of mine to let me ride one of his horses. Though I had never been on one before, he said I was a natural rider, and remarked how easily I picked up horseback riding. I joined the military (Army Reserves) right after high school, and though I was never comfortable using a rifle, I was a pretty good shot. I felt more comfortable with a revolver. That said, I did eventually buy a revolver, a Taurus model 66. Though it had both double and single action, I always fired it by single action, which is every time I aimed, I pulled back the hammer and squeezed. There is one more thing to this account, I have had many dreams where I am being hunted, and more times than not, found and killed. The most vivid dream I remember, I was in an alley way, between two buildings. I was running from someone, but I did not know who. I thought I had gotten away, but when I got to the end of the alley way, I started to turn to my right, I heard something and felt my knees buckle. Next thing I knew I was looking up at the blue sky, which faded to black before I woke up. As I said before, these things and more makes me wonder if in fact these are memories of a past life, and if they are, it makes me wonder who I was. There is one more oddball thing I forgot to say. Ever since I have learned to write, people have asked me if I was left handed. They said the way that I write looks like I used to be lefthanded, but switched to my righthand. All I can say is, I have always been righthanded, and I don't know why that it seems so.

My husband didn't believe in reincarnation until I questioned him about his childhood. My problem was that he talked about different places where he lived and it occured to me that he couldn't have lived in those places when he said he did. For instance, he couldn't be in Galveston, Texas and in Kansas City, Missouri at the same time.
My husband was born in March, 1931. One day he told me about a time when his father took him to a place in Kansas City, Mo, called "The Electric Park". He talked about the park and it seemed to bring back fond memories for him. He was doodling at the time and began drawing the park with the lights, the rides, the man-made lake, the concession stands, emphasizing the center of the lake with its spray. He said he remembers holding his dad's hand while walking around the park. A few years later he had gone back to the park with some friends while they were playing soldiers. He didn't realize it was the same park because now it was weedy and abandoned. He realized it only after finding the man-made lake. He told his friends that he remembered the park when it was open to the public.
I thought it would be fun for him to get information about the park and had him contact the Kansas City Parks and Recreation Archives. On April 27, 1998, a kind lady there sent him a package of articles about the park. An excerp from her letter reads: "Although Electric Park burned in 1925, the dance area and the swimming pool operated until 1934". The rides and the lights and the concession stands were all gone. Since he wasn't born until 1931, there is no way he could have remembered all that.

This writer is the daughter of the writer of the account immediately above
Most of my life I've had a "memory." To know part of why this memory is so different, I'll tell you that I was born in 1953. When WW II started, my father was 10, and my mother was 5 years old. Another kinda unusual thing is that I have a second language. I discovered that language, watching a favorite British sitcom in the late 1960s. In that show, two interns greeted a third intern by saying to him "bore da." I KNEW he'd said "good morning"! That third intern was Welsh. I found a book at a nearby British bookstore, that had Welsh - English. I THOUGHT the intern had said bora da. According to this book, it IS bore = morning, da = good, and in Welsh, adjective follow nouns. Since then, my Welsh has become as prominent in my mind as English. The way that Spanish or French can be to certain folk in North America. Here is that "memory."
I am standing on a cliff of a high mountain, watching a few airplanes flying north. Behind me is my father. I ask him about them, and he tells me, in Welsh, that they are German, going to Liverpool and Manchester to bomb! This a memory of a girl born in 1953?
In the past decade, I've "remembered" that my name was Serena Evans, I was born in 1914 in Carmaerthan, Cymru, and died in a car crash when my English car went over a cliff in the Snowdon Mountains. I'd been living in Caernarvon, Cymru. And then, each parent has a memory for which they've had no ability to experience, in this life. They felt okay about telling me, when learned I believe in reincarnation, mostly 'cos the above "memory."
Diolch chwi (thank you)
Addendum to first letter:
After hearing Spanish daily for a decade, it is still a very imcomprehensible language to me. Yet I have never been taught, instructed, or coached in Welsh. ... I am bilingual -- in Saesneg ac Cymraeg. English and Welsh.

I have had a few past live dreams, I am a vivid dreamer who dreams all the time while sleeping. This dream and few others stand out some how, I just know it is a different type of dream, a past life dream. In my dream I am old, I am in a moving train. I am in the caboose, it is night, there are other people there. I am sitting with my back to the back of the caboose. Others are beside me and also setting on the sides of the train car. There are two lanterns lit, one in the front of the car on the side and one in the back of the car on the side. I have a long skirt on that goes to my shoes, made of material that feels terrible and coarse, it is wrinkled and a dirty linen color. I have lots of cloths on, layers under my skirt and top. Others are dressed in period clothing also, I am old about 55 or sixty, that is not old today but seemed very old then.
I was a large unattractive woman, I felt that no one knew me or cared about me. I did not matter to any one. I did not stand out in anyway, It was a fact, I felt invisible to the world. Although it was night I got up and walked to the front of the caboose and leaned over a half gate that was on the side of the car. I looked up, it was a cold winter night but there were no stars for we were passing threw a tunnel leading to the terminal we were coming to. It was rounded over head like a tunnel and had tin tiles with embossing or imprints on each of them. They went from the bottom of the tunnel to the rounded top and down. They looked silver or white in what ever light I saw them in. It seemed the train was making a slow curve in the tunnel while slowing down.
I feel this is a true reincarnation dream. Reincarnation dreams stand out among thousand dreams. But I also know nothing about trains. I do not know if passengers were allowed in the very back of the train, in the caboose? I do not know if lanterns were hung in train cars and I do not know of a curving tunnel with tin tiles leading to a train stop. But I feel all this was there in the world somewhere and I will find a picture of it if I search long enough. This is not I realize profound, but a dream with strong emotions as this one stand out. If any one has pictures or knowledge of trains and terminal that I might have been at, please email me (Note--contact link provided by permission.)

A year and a half ago my daughter came to me one day and stated that she missed her mother. She was 3 at the time. I looked down and laughed and I told her, "I am your mother." She said, "No my mom Garcia." I said, "What?" and then I just said "What was your mother's name?" and she said "Garcia, my dad Garcia killed her." She pointed to her forehead and she said "Right there." She went on to mention an uncle and she talks about her mother being pretty and having hair like mine. She is 4 now and she continues to talk about them. But there are no names, just my mom Garcia and my dad Garcia is what she says when she mentions them. We were driving around town in our van and she sits in her car seat, the last seat in the back, and one day she yelled, "Look, that looks like my mom Garcia's car." She came home from school one day and she said, "I thought my mom Garcia was gonna pick me up today" and she seemed very disappointed.

I knew a person once who, at the age of 3, told me that he was a fighter pilot. He then demonstrated how his plane had crashed and how he had died. I don't think he understood the meaning of dying at that age but still, he was talking about it. He then told me that his mom, was not his mom, and that his mom lived somewhere else, in some other city. He even told me his name, the name he had in his previous incarnation.
All this was forgotten by the time he grew up. But I checked up the records, and indeed, there was a pilot by that name who had been presumed dead, as he was "Missing in Action."
Pretty scary for me........I didn't know whether I believed in all this reincarnation stuff, but now I do. This is absolutely impossible to explain otherwise. There is no way that a 3 yr old child would have known all this. [A similar in-depth story was reported on ABC's "Prime Time" featuring an interview with Carol Bowman, 4/15/04. This brief account was posted on a newsgroup several years earlier and may or may not be the same case.]

Cliff and Helen's son had just started to speak. Like with most children, his parents had trouble understanding what Jeff was saying. They thought his words sounded a little odd, but he was able to point to what he wanted at the same time as he asked, so they soon learned to follow his gobbledegook words.
Then one day a friend was at the house. When the young boy pointed to a drink and said 'his' word for it, the guest was astounded. After listening to the boy for awhile, he told the startled parents that their son was speaking perfect Greek...
On a later occasion after Jeff had grown out of speaking Greek and was speaking perfect English, they took him for a visit to their local catherdral. When confronted with some large statues at the entrance the boy pulled back, saying "No Mummy, I don't like it in there--I never liked it in there." His mother, puzzled, said, "But Jeff don't be silly. You've never been here before." The boy answered, "No--I mean before I was alive." (names changed)

I think that my daughter has been telling me about her past life. The thing is that no one believes me. She talks as she is my Aunt that died in 1957. I named my daughter after my grandmother. Which was the same name as my Aunt I just found that out not to long ago from my mom. She talks about how she died and what happened to her. When she started talking like this I was thinking I was going crazy. I'm glad to find out that there are children out there that do talk about their past lives.

A woman received a packet of family photo albums from her nephew. It had belonged to her recently deceased elder sister. The packet contained albums of her parents, and both sets of her Grandparents, all now deceased. The photos of her Grandparents (maternal and paternal) were all taken in Ireland, well before her parents immigrated to America.
Her then 4 year old granddaughter (now my friend) correctly identified not only the people in the photos (one of whom died before the woman was born), but the towns and streets pictured as well. All of the people pictured had been deceased for many years before the child's birth, and the child hadn't seen any sort of photo of any of them before.

I was brought up as an orthodox Protestant. However, right from the time of being a small child I have had memories of being an adult in particular situations which I could have had no knowledge of. One in particular was of being Scottish and hiding in the dark in reeds, or marshes, from red coats. I had no idea as a child who these people were who wanted to kill me.
After I retired I took up family history and found that my ancestors were Scottish lairds of a particularly greedy, cruel and violent disposition. One was murdered in a dispute over a game of cards and a woman. One was hanged for killing some one in a duel. Another was burnt at the stake as an alleged
traitor.One burnt witches...is their bad karma affecting me? They lost their wealth in the late 1700's...but that is a long story. Through them I am descended from the Stuart kings of Scotland. My daughter and sister also have "floating" memories of being Scottish and stopping by a river on horseback to face pursuers .
I was once told by a woman at work who happened to be a medium that I had a relative a woman called Juliet, way back, who had been deperately unhappy. Well, sometime later I did find a Julian (woman) whose brother the Earl of Somerset was accused of murder and witchcraft.
I feel frustrated in that there seems to be some purpose here, but how do I find out what it is ? Are we a group of souls who have been incarnated together for some purpose. I know I feel that I am in my present incarnation to learn lessons concerning false pride in blood, use of arms, intolerance and bigotry. I do know that I have long given up the simple atheism I had as a boy of 18.
Experience shows that life is just too complicated for that.

This evening we did a search re Reincarnation following a programme on British TV which was about children apparently recalling events that they shouldn't have known about. Whilst we watched the programme I remembered a recurring dream that I used to have when I was a boy, it occurred from the age of about 8 to around 12, and I have never had it since.
I dreamed that I was running down a bombed out street, I can see the rafters of the houses as they have no roofs left and the streets are full of rubble. I am very frightened and am running away from something. Suddenly I am lying on my back on the ground and there is something under my back that is causing my head to hang down (like if you lie on your back on a bed with your head hanging over the side). I see soldiers (well their legs anyway) running past me, they are wearing army boots and have puttees that reach up almost to their knees, they are clearly running with the same sense of urgency that I had been a moment before. Despite the odd position I feel very comfortable (like being in a bed that's been freshly made with clean cotton/linen sheets), and I remember thinking "It's alright, they're my mates, they'll come back for me" (I always feel slightly tearful when I relate this bit). Dream ends. The dream was always in vivid colour.
I was always curious as to why, in the dream, my head was at such an odd angle, and I remember relating this story to friend a few years ago and he said "Well, of course if you had been a soldier, you'd probably have been wearing a backpack of some description so your head would've flopped back if you were lying face up!" That caused quite a shiver down my spine I can tell you :-) The only other thing is that sometimes, (again as an 8 to 12 year old), just as I was dropping off to sleep I'd see myself jumping off a wall and as I look down to see where I'm going to land (as you do) I see that I'm wearing puttees and boots like the soldiers that ran past me in the dream and I'd always wake up with a jolt when I landed.

I have absolutely no proof myself of reincarnation, but I've been very interested in it lately. Back in May of this year, my husband and I took a two day vacation to Galveston, TX with two of our children. The whole time I was there, I had this weird feeling about the whole place. All we did was spend the entire time at the beach and at night, we left our two kids with a nanny we brought along and my husband and I went out to eat at two different restaurants. We also drove around the island and while we were doing that, I kept feeling this strange haunted feeling, as if there was this constant ominous prescence about the whole place. When we went to the other side of the island, by the Bishop's house, we got out and walked around and I kept feeling as if I was being watched. Like there were people everywhere, watching us, even though there were no other people around. I kept wondering to my husband why there were so many graveyards there and I kept feeling as if something horrible had happened. When my husband (who was taken with Galveston--he'd love to live on the beach) asked if I'd ever like to move there (we have five kids and are looking into moving to a smaller town when our kids are high school age and sending them to private high schools might not be financially possible) I said, "No!! I wouldn't want to live HERE!!" He asked why and I couldn't really answer. The only answer I had for him was, "They have hurricanes here." Also, a few times, my husband and I left our children with the nanny on the beach for a minute while we went out into the ocean for an adult swim time, I kept having this thought in my head about that when I died, I'd remember the ocean the most. It was a weird sensation that I attributed only to the experience of the vacation. Only later, I wondered.
Believe it or not, I did not know that Galveston had been basically destroyed by a hurricane in the early 1900's until we arrived back home. Two weeks after we returned home, there was a huge article about Galveston's 100 year hurricaine anniversary. I read every word of the article and felt like crying the entire time.
Anyway, Galveston is not the only place that makes me feel like it's a "sacred" place, but it's the most recent. I know I have heightened perceptions about people and places, but this one was more personal. And since then, I've kind of toyed around with the idea of reincarnation. Just thought I'd share that. :-)

I am a 46 year old male from Pennsylvania--all my life I have had feelings, dreams, & embedded thoughts that I had been alive during the 1890's. As a child, I had very vivid visions and dreams of places and situations. I rarely shared any of these because when I did, I was made fun of or just ignored. I certainly wish I had some kind of physical evidence to substantiate this, like the gentleman from Connecticut that was an officer during the American Civil War. Unfortunately all I have is memories that fade as the years pass. Although I have no physical evidence, It's just a good feeling to know that I am not alone with this. One of the memories I've had places me in a park or church yard setting. Sometimes it seems to be like a family reunion picnic, or a Sunday after church type atmosphere. Other times it has been the 4th of July celebration, Memorial Day, and such as that. There is almost always a small river or large creek. I'm not exactly sure what year it is, but I am most certain of the era by the fashion of the clothing worn by all. The earliest memory I can recall of this ( I can't remember the age ), was outside of a big house with a medium sized yard, gathering snow in buckets with several other kids and adults coming out and we all sat &/or stood on these wide steps that led up from the end of the yard to the walk that led to the front steps of the house, and the adults helped us make ice cream in a bucket with a turn crank. My memories of that life have been in childhood, adolescence, young man, to adult, on jobs, in taverns, and even though they rarely come anymore, I have enjoyed them profoundly throughout this entire life. Now I only feel a little cheated that I have no physical evidence of my experiences, and feelings, and a little envious of those who do!

I am a very "Irish" personality if you get my meaning. I grew up with my Gran's stories of the wee folk and such, and I've had several eerie experiences with deja-vu (picking up the phone before it rang, being able to people how to get to a place I've never been). I don't resemble my siblings or my parents, but I do very much resemble my grandmother's family, especially my great-grandmother. My great-grandparents left Ireland in somewhat of the scandel of marrying below one's class (my great -grandmother was one of the family's maids)...Apparently my great-grandfather was never forgiven. I went through school drawing, painting and writing. I was in an art history class in high school when the teacher displayed a slide by a 17th century Irish artist. I glanced up and nearly fell from my seat. I was looking back at my own face, at about my own age.The painting was done about 1680. The room was silent and my mates were staring at me, rather openmouthed. My teacher was also rather dumbfounded. I've not been able to track down the painting since, and my art teacher passed away shortly after my senior year. I did know it came from the Kent State University archives.
While searching the archives I came across two more portraits. The first was of Sean Fitgerald Lynch O'Donovan; he looked vaguely like me in features and colouring, but he had my eyes. (As I explained to Angela I have very large, rather oddly coloured eyes; even my opthamologists comments on them.) The painting was from around 1775 or so, and by that time my Irish branch had been settled in Cork for about 400 years. A distant cousin of my Gran's confirmed through church records he was an acestor to both my g-granfather (O'Donovan) and my g-grandmother (Lynch). The second portrait I found was of a young woman, perhaps eary 20's and seemed to be a wedding portrait. It was done in 1894, the year my great grandparents married. They left Ireland for first Liverpool, and then America in 1902. Again, my own eyes looked out from the portrait. Oddly enough the woman rather closely resembled my eldest brother. I never met my great-grandparents, both had died before my parents married. When I was about fifteen I was looking through old photo albumns at my Gran's, and I began identifiying the people in the photos, even though they had died long before my conception. I freaked out my parents and grandparents and I was forbidden to ever speak of it again. My Gran wanted to have me exorcised, especially after I told her where the house they lived in after marrying was located in Cork and described the kitchen. Her eldest sister, (who'd been born in Ireland) confirmed my description and the gave Gran the address. She wrote to her cousins, and they confirmed that the house had indeed been just where I had said. Sadly, because of a bout with the "troubles" the house was burnt down some 20 years ago. Very few members of my Gran's family exist, and I didn't do a lot of research while my Mother was alive as she felt I would cauase harm in doing so. Unfortunately, because of the time that has lapsed I been unable to identify either of the women, and during one of my moves the box containing my copies of the paintings and what precious bits I've uncovered didn't move with me, and I fear was put in the dust bin. My husband didn't used to believe in deja-vu or anything of the sort before he met me. He used to tease me( not in a mean way) about my 'insights' as he called them. My Mom died while we were on our honeymoon, and my Dad died two years later. While cleaning out the house we found a parcel of my drawings stuck in the back of my old bedroom closet. Bear in mind this is our second marriage, my husband is 8 years older than me, and was raised in Columbus, and I was raised 200 miles north of here. The very top drawing was a portrait of him, as a young man. At the bottom I had penciled "the man I will someday marry". The paper was aged and very fragile, cheap newsprint and the drawing crumbled from being handled....but John no longer teases me.

My daughter's 7 year old half-brother once told his great grandmother (I know, too convoluted, right ?) that he used to change her diapers when her mother was too tired to do it. The only person that fit that description was the great grandmother's older brother.The child has always been her favorite, now I wonder why?

Last night the idea of how past lives influence our current behaviors occurred to me. I had a dream once, of being on the Titanic, and I mean fully dressed in the clothes of the period, whole nine yards--while the ship was sinking. In it, I was lifting my now-oldest son up to some people in order to save him, through something like a porthole or window. He also had on some kind of costume from then--knee breeches or something similar. Anyway, he made it; I didn't. Now I get accused of not being harsh enough on him, and just being entirely too lenient. And it's like I can't help it, although I have gotten better at it since he started school. In the dream, my child was about age 4. Now he is 5, and maybe I'm getting more strict on him because he is past the age that he was in the dream. I woke up from that dream feeling like someone had stuck a pillow over my head, gasping for breath. Anyway, just an illustration on how it seems past lives, however long ago, still infuence us today.

My four-year-old nephew talked about "when he had a wife" but I haven't had too much personal experience with past lives, I'm just interested in the subject...I should also tell you that the very same nephew has told me that when he was a man with a wife, he was shot and killed. Then he said but he went to the hospital and died but then he was okay again so hmmm...

My daughter has only had one past life memory (or only one that she both recognizes & chooses to share with ol' mom!). She says that she has repeatedly had a dream where she is in the water & a ship is retreating into the distance. She did tell me after I started sharing my past life recollections with her that it did occur to her that this might be part of a past life memory. I really think that it is.She says that in the dream she is an adolescent female with curly red hair & that she knows she is being left behind. (Ironically, she has no fear of water, but does have phobias of abandonment. As a toddler she was downright panicky about how soon I'd return whenever I had to leave her!).
She ususally is more inclined to dream than have either lucid dreams or past life memories. Recurring themes in her dreams are abandonment & early death.After talking many times to her about the influence of past life glimpses/baggage on day-to-day living, she is now beginning to accept the fact that such knowledge (derived from whatever level) does NOT indicate early death in this life.It has allowed her to slow down & try & appreciate Life one day at a time (usually anyway!)

I don't have this first hand anymore. I can't remember who told me, but when I lived in Norfolk (England) I remember a lady telling about a friend's son, who got very badly frightened one day when they were driving the car across a bridge over a river. He started crying that this was where he had died and he was scared it was going to happen again. His mother reassured him that he wasn't going to fall into the water, that the bridge was strong (she was very spooked by it), and the boy said--"it was when I was a lady--I fell into the water." They discovered that years previously a car with a lady inside had crashed through the side of the bridge and plunged into the river below.

I have been able to recall parts of many lives. I was mostly female, twice male. I was both privileged, and destitute. Educated, and ignorant. I was hearty and healthy, I was drug addicted and dying of TB...I could go on and on! It seemed that my lives followed a pendulum swing between great good , and terrible misfortune. Killed by accident, killed myself (twice, stupid me) died of old age...sometimes alone, sometimes surrounded by loved ones.
What I recall for the most part was surprise at still being me after death. Being conscious, coherent, and mainly unafraid. My after death concerns centered totally around those I left behind. Were they able to cope? Did they know I was not really gone?
What I learned: Love is what matters. I learned that ALL life is sacred. I learned that it is not WHO you are, but HOW you are that counts. What counts are the tears you dried. The hands you held. The burdens you helped carry.(in every way). The roads you chose to walk out of company for another person. The smiles you brought, the meals you cooked, and served. The comfort and understanding that you offered, with no thought of recompense. The deeds you did out of pure good- hearted impulses to do good. To bring hope to the disheartened, strength to the weary and justice to the oppressed.
Everyone has those small and distinct opportunities to do good. Everyone. They seem so mundane, but I really believe that those deeds are what eventually bring us closer to a godlike existence.
And by the way, in NONE of my lives was religion a predominant factor. I was never aware of any certain religious orientation in any of my lives. I believe that God cares far less for religion than we would expect.

I'm not sure if this is some form of a past life memory or not. This dream has made me very interested in the topic. I could only see through my eyes throuout the entire dream. I was laying in a bed in a kitchen. A very old fashioned kitchen, but it did have running water. A young girl was washing in the sink. I called her to me and she sat beside me on the bed. She started to braid my hair, I could see my hair was long and silver. Then I felt myself lift out of her body. I could see her lying there with the young girl. I knew she was dead. Next I was at a funeral, I was just kind of hovering there. I saw the young girl there, then I just began to float up. I saw some odd orbs of light and the dream ended. I do know that I felt happy throughout the dream, kind of relaxed.
I used to think some of my odder dreams were influenced by TV or some other outside medium. I stopped watching TV completely about a year ago and my dreams have become extremely vivid. I feel I'm learning more and more about my innerself this way.
(added in a subsequent post:)
I don't remember the girl's name, but I do remember a large window over the sink. The sun came through in streaks. The sink was white, almost like a bath tub. There was a door beside me, but I never saw what was through it. And I could hear children playing. And for some reason I knew we were very poor. That's about all I could remember about my surroundings in the dream.
The girl was definitely some kind of relation. It seemed when I was in the old woman, I felt very warm towards her. I wish I could remember more detail though. It seemed so real.

In 1971, at the age of 20, I moved from Los Angeles to Jefferson County, Colorado. Driving, pulling a trailer, I came up through New Mexico wanting to go through Taos. The closer I got, the more intense the "feeling" became. I looked over to the west, just south of Taos, and saw a beautiful mesa with a large canyon...sunset, clouds...just beautiful. But this "feeling," extremely intense...it was grief and I had no idea why. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I drove north into the mountains towards Eagles Nest, NM and pulled over, shaking and crying like a baby. I never went back through Taos again.
In the late 70's, married for the second time, there was some involvement in studying the mondo beyondo and associated areas. I was regressed once by a fairly competent hypnotist resulting in one significant sililoquy of imagery. It was in a place with red earth, blue sky, white clouds with lots of short people with brown skin and long hair and I was sitting right there overlooking corn and pueblos and all that was going on. I watched the elders having council, but was only a spectator from a distance...seemed I wasn't old enough to participate. I recalled the...ambience of the entire episode, along with an understand of just what it was that was happening. When the hypnotist tried to draw me away from this scene, I refused saying, "who would want to leave the center of the universe"?...corny, but true.
In another incident, I was at the local library looking for a book on the Louisiana Purchase. How and why I pulled out a particular book I do not know, but there it was in my hands. The title was, "Bent's Fort." Turns out it's one of the premier narratives on the Rocky Mountain Fur Co. that range from Colorado down into...Taos. The time period was prior to the Mexican War in 1836.
In the 20-some years since then, I've come to understand only one solid fact about all of the above...that at some point in time I died in Taos. I know nothing more.

A 14-year-old boy was into self-mutilation. He was carving his skin with razor blades and suffered from a serious learning disability. No traditional therapies were able to provide relief for him. His mother called about a past-life session in my office. It turned out in a previous life he refused any contact with human beings and lived an isolationist lifestyle for years.
His only companions were animals of the forest. He was a wood carver and loved to carve figures of his animal friends. He must have carried his hatred of human beings into this lifetime and that's why he was carving himself up. After releasing that hatred in the session he was able to live a relatively happy existence free from self-mutilation. His learning disabilities improved considerably. He now attends college and has shown no sign of self-destructive tendencies since the session.
K.D., Certified Licensed Hypnotherapist

...last April (about a year ago now), I met this guy. Not the guy I was dating, so that would make it the second week of April we met. He'd been at our school for two weeks, but had known one of my friends practically forever. Trust me, all this information is important.
So, I was sort of distant from him, because before this, I had had some dreams. One was of this dark brown hair, like the color of the bark on a cherry tree when it is completely soaked, and these rich brown eyes, much resembling the color of somewhere between milk and dark chocolate. I figured it was some famous guy I was sort of mooning over, but the one I saw...his face, even though I never remember really seeing it (probably once, total)...was exactly the way this guy I met's was. Oh, keep in mind at this point that they do look very similar. In fact, their first names are even the same.
That's not all I saw. There was a flag, it was strange. There were intricate designs on it, like one might find on a family insignia ring. Yet, they were in color, like the flag was a symbol of something important. It appeared to me as if it were brand new, and laid out on a tabletop. I later saw a family insignia ring that was completely gold, but had the same patterns (right down to the little pineapple like thing I saw).
Yet again before I saw this ring, I saw a letter being written, even the candle being used as an apparent light source. I don't know what was being used to write with, but I clearly saw the ring resting on a masculine hand (it was a left hand, in case that's interesting), right in the light. It shone off the gold like the sun on water. The next thing I saw was a sealed letter and something stamped in wax.
That's honestly all I remember, and I believe all I ever saw. Don't discount me because I'm not in my twenties, I AM only 17, but WAS 16 when this was all happening. I don't know what this is, or what this means, but when I first had the flag dream, I saw a book for past-life regression. It stuck out like an eyesore.
Oh, another thing. All these visions, past-life premonitions, they came before I met the guy. I couldn't have possibly known what happened would happen. Even if I DID feel connected, and very much in love with the person in my...whatever it was.

...I believe in Jesus as my savior...and, actually...it's partially due to my belief in reincarnation! I have remembered living prior lives since I was literally in my crib. Totally freaks you out...(try to imagine waking up in a baby's body tomorrow, after having a very traumatic experience today.) But I also recall what I can only describe as a place or plane...between lives, and Jesus was there. The same Jesus. The living, glorified Jesus. Not "just" a "loving light" or energy, or a pure, loving "entity," It was Jesus. I believe that at some point in each life...or lives...all will have a chance to know Jesus for who He is. Now, did Jesus "appear" to me in that plane instead of Buddha, or another religious figure BECAUSE that is what I "expected" I don't believe so. I was an infant when I remembered this, so I hadn't yet "learned" of Jesus in this lifetime. Was it becuase I was a Christian in a prior life? Maybe so. BUT...the past life I remember as my happiest, most cherished life was as a Native American. If anything, I think I would have expected something symbolical of that belief system...not Jesus.
...there are PLENTY of Christians who share my beliefs in reincarnation, etc.

When he was almost four, one of my twins was kind of sleepy in the back seat of my van when we arrived home. As I took him out of his carseat, he said to me, very clearly, "When I was an old man, I used to have a big black car. I had a hat on, and a man drove me around. It was my own car, and I was rich. I was a judge." This was a real shocker for me, because neither twin had ever referred to himself as an 'old man' before. This one had never been so articulate about such things. That cemented my opinion that children do have strong recollections of past lives. Sadly, by age four, no more information about past lives was volunteered by either of my twins.

In the beginning of the '80's I visited Prague and a friend took me to an exhibition where they showed old hand-painted Bibles from all centuries. I liked them a lot and strolled peacefully in that room looking at all of them. All of a sudden I stopped before one and had a flashback from a former life in which I was a monk who had spent his entire life to paint one Bible. The book before me, was the book I had painted in this life around 1100. It was such a good and peaceful life. I was not very bright, a simple and devoted soul, not asking for anything more than what I did.

I did a past-life regression where I saw myself as an aboriginal male in some prehistoric time, being a son of the tribechief, very proud and arrogant, and having something to do with starting a war between "my" tribe and another one. During the regression I experienced very vividly killing other human beings by piercing them through with a spear. From the "higher perspective" this was all so wrong and it was really a horrible experience, involving a lot of pain and guilt. I felt the other people's pain, fear, and saw lots of things that could have occurred but that I'd wasted through killing those people. I went through that lifetime, and as I grew old I began to understand THIS WAS NOT THE WAY. And as I was about to die my last thought was: I've done it all the wrong way, and there's no time to make amends...