www.open-sesame.com

North America
USA: SOUTH

ALABAMA
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    The life before that one my name was Eric Lynn and I was born in East Brewick Alabama sometime around the turn of the century. I remember other children talking about Jack Johnson dating white women when I was little. I played basketball in high school. I married a woman named Natalie. My cousin Josh in this life was also my cousin in that life. He lived in the country. My best friend's name was Bruce and he is my cousin Gary in this life. I became a newspaper writer. I believe I may have lived in Asheville North Carolina. I read greatly as I got older. One day while walking down the street, I slipped, fell, and died instantly, hitting my head against the sidewalk.
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    I have memories from a past life as a child.  When I was small I was obsessed with the Civil War.  I had two imaginary friends, Jonathan and Thomas, and whenever my mother would ask me who I was playing with I would tell her that I was playing with my brothers.  As far as I can tell I died around 1862 or 1863, when I was still a child probably around 8 or 9 years old.  I grew up in a small house in the South with a mother, father, younger brother, and older brother. My father was away, apparently fighting in the war when I died.  I was probably eight years old and had had a prolonged fever when I died.  For some reason growing up in Montgomery, Alabama I always had my "imaginary brothers" who would share with me information about what had happened in their lives and my family's lives as they grew older.  Apparently my father, also named Jon, had died during the Civil War, although I never found out what battle he died at.
    Anyway don't know if this is as descriptive as some of the cases you have gotten.  But I do think that somehow these memories and my relationship with these "imaginary brothers" are symbolic of my past life, as a small child growing up during the Civil War in the South.
    I know I just sent you an email, but I have one other past life experience that I did not include in my previous email.
    When I was in high school in Alabama, a friend of mine and I decided to go out to "Satan's House."  In the 1990s a lot of kids partied there.  It was down a long dirt road, with canopied trees, and from the minute we got on the road I felt like I knew it.  I became nervous and uptight.  When we got to the house I wouldn't go in.  I just stared at this small dogtrot house, knowing I had seen it before.  I told my friends that I had a weird feeling and something bad had happened there.  That night I had a dream.  I was a young girl in the 1900s or 1910s growing up in the country with a fairly large family.  Several days earlier my mother had given birth to a daughter.  She was still laid up in bed, and the baby hadn't even been named yet.  On that day I was watching my brothers, two year old twins, and my other sister. I must have been about ten years old, my sister was five or six, and I had another brother who was about eight.  My father had gone into town, and he was late getting back.  I kept having to run into the house and get things for my mother, and it was getting so late that she wanted me to start dinner, but I just felt like playing with the new baby, so I picked her up and took her out of the room and down towards a creek that ran far behind the house.  The next thing I heard was a gunshot.  I ran up to the house, holding the baby, and saw my father standing in the dogtrot of the house with a rifle facing my Momma's room.  My eight year old brother was lying dead on the floor...shot in the head. My sister was running off towards the road with one of the twins.  The other twin was nowhere to be found.  I ran with my sister towards the road, and heard the shot as my father killed my mother.  He ran after me, but stopped towards the edge of the road and killed himself.  I ran with my little sister and brother, holding the unnamed baby in my arms until I got to a neighbor's house probably a mile down the road, and they ran out for the police.  Later we found out that the other twin had ran down to the creek, fallen in and drowned.  One of the neighbors, a local farmer had found him cold in the river, and came and told us at our neighbor's house.
    This memory is extremely vivid to me, and although the house I saw may not have been the same house it seemed very familiar.  This story has inspired me to write a short story about it, but I believe this to be a past life regression as well. - Lauren

FLORIDA
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    Hello - I enjoy your site so much.  In 1973, shortly after I relocated to Florida, a man I was dating wanted to show me Palm Beach, Florida.  We visited the White Hall home there.  My friend knew the history of White Hall whereas I had never heard of it.  As we proceeding into the tour I saw the beautiful marble stairs and my eyes immediately went to a picture of a woman on the wall.  The tour guide had just told us the Mr. Flagler had built this estate for his wife and that he had fallen down the stairs and subsequently died.  Without realizing why, I heard myself say "she pushed him down the marble stairs and this led to his death" I then pointed to the picture of the woman of the wall.  The tour guide said that was his wife and I replied "she shoved him".  My friend was embarrassed, the tour guide seemed taken aback, and I did not realize myself why I had uttered those words.  However, I KNEW in my soul that I was right.  After leaving the estate my friend told me that he was embarrassed that I had said that in such loud overtones and also he stated that what I had said had been rumored for years to be the cause of the death.  As we toured Pam Beach I saw places that looked so familiar and I began to describe the interior of one of the  beautiful homes in the area. Also as we dined at the Breakers I felt unusually comfortable and at home there.  I do believe I was a resident of Palm Beach at one time. I have wondered since then how I KNEW that and I believe it is a carry over from another life.  Thank you.  Lavergne

GEORGIA
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    Hello. I saw your sight and the chance to state my past life and hopefully reconnect with others from my past life. I have been haunted since i was very young with images I could not explain. As I got older, more images came through. I met my now best friend in high school and she taught me about reincarnation. It was the only thing that made these images make sense. I have tried to put them together to figure out what happened in this life but there are a lot of pieces missing. Here's my story...
    I was a young girl living on my family's plantation in Georgia. I'm not sure of the year but my images range from shortly before the Civil War to in the middle of it. My name started with an "S" but I'm not sure exactly what it was. Maybe Samantha, Sarah, or Suzanne. I had pale skin and long black hair. I lived on the plantation with my extended family. This included aunts
uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, my father, and slaves. I have no memories of my mother and believe she died when I was very young. Us children were really raised by the slaves. They cared for us, bathed us, and loved us. The white adults really seemed to care less about us. As we grew older, our white family became more interested in our lives. The other children started acting more like the adults and making our slaves answer to our every wish. I didn't like the way they treated them but thought it was only from being spoiled. The slaves gave me the only love I knew so I continued to treat them with all the respect and love I thought they deserved.
    I didn't think ill of my family until I found my father beating one of the slaves. It was horrible. The slave was naked and laying on a table or bed. My father was beating him with a leather strap. The screams were ear wrenching. They didn't see me. From then on, I was extremely afraid of my father and avoided him and the other white adults as much as possible. Later on in this life, maybe a few years later, I became friends with a white man a few years older than I. I think his name was Andrew. He was educated. I think he may have been living on the neighboring plantation. Andrew and I saw each other every day. We spent hours talking in the orchard. He was just my friend, but I believe I was in love with him. He taught me the truth about slavery and he was planning to do something about it. There was something about going to Mississippi. I can't remember what exactly he was going to do there to help the slaves but he wanted me to come with him. Something happened, and I ended up not going with him. Shortly after, the war started, my family hosted some confederate soldiers in our house. There was one about my age who took a liking to me. I think I also liked him but I wasn't in love with him. I still loved Andrew. For some reason, I married him. I don't think I was forced but persuaded by my father to marry him.
    I continued to live on the plantation as he went off to war. He came home at least once but went off again and died in battle. After that, all I remember was feeling extreme despair. I had lost the only two men who love me and the chance to fight for what i felt was right. I don't know if I ever saw Andrew again but I think he was angry with me for either not going with him, marrying someone else, or both. I believe that Andrew is my soul mate. I think I know who he is in this life, and think his anger continued into this life. I'm pretty sure I know who the soldier is and our time together is over.

SOUTH CAROLINA
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    I had a dream one time.  It was a place.  There was a big concrete fountain in the middle of a walk way.  The walk way was surrounded by  a large area of grass and scattered clusters of trees.  I just stood there looking at the fountain.  I was so sad.  I usually dream in color.  This dream was in black and white.   I  had no idea where that place could be till I move to the lowcountry in South Carolina. I have been past  hundreds of salt marsh areas that resembled the place where the fountain was to a tee.  But I have yet to find the fountain.  It may be gone.  But I think I found out something terribly sad when I was there.  I also had a black and white dream about empty dirt roads.  Lined in Live Oaks.....every street in beaufort is like that.   I believe they are memories because they are the only two dreams I've had in black and white and because there is a saddness that surrounds them... almost a longing and because there is no one else around...I was totally alone in them both.    After we moved here when we would drive around the town  I would think to myself...this place has changed so much.  or I can't believe it's so different.  I had never been here before.  Peg
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VIRGINIA
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      Three years ago, I was only 12 , I went on a trip to Colonial Williamsburg with my school.The first thing that looked familer to me was the jail.I felt as though I already knew some of what the guide was telling us.It was the first time I have been in that area of the country.When we got to the main street I just knew I had seen the place before.I pictured myself,I guess you could call it a vision, walking down the street with a long heavy layerd skirt.It was white and I wore a brown vest ,under corset or something that seemed too tight.It was hard to breath in it.Then that ended.
    Then we went inside the wig shop.The guide was telling us about how they'd use human hair for wigs.I then saw my head being forced down on a table.I was scared,mad and someone had just chopped my hair off.The hair was dark brownish red and curly, nothing like my hair now. Later on we got to these things that they'd use to hold people down in.I'm not sure what they are called.You put their hands and head in between a block of wood and then lock them in it.Well that was the most familer.When I saw it I just knew I had been there before.I felt so sure that I had been held in one particular thing.I was scared of it but I forced my self to get back in it and take a picture like everyone else.In it I felt scared and mad,like someone had betrayed me.In my mind I heard people shouting accuasing things at me.I don't remember what they were yelling,something I did'nt want to hear.
    My friends also said everything looked familer.One friend said she had a dream about being a blacksmith there...the night before we arrived there. Later on that night I rememberd telling my mom when I was about 4 about someone named Winston, I think the name was who had killed me. I wasn't excatly sure what all this meant but I looked it up on the internet and there was in fact a family in Colonial Williamsburg that was named Winston.Anyways thanks for your time.Blessed Be ~ Dana
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    Every once in a while I will be walking to work and when I pass by Ben Franklin or Church St. in Smithfield VA I will get a vision that I am sweeping a porch of a general store, I'm about 18 (I'm 50 now) same physical features that I have now, I have a long blue dress on w/ a white apron. I can't make out the name of the store 'cause it's blurred. Then I look up and I have a scared look on my face, and I see these men coming in on horses shooting guns. I get shot in the chest and I fall. Blessed Be :-) Audrey aka Regina
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