Past Life Memory Bank
www.open-sesame.com

Multiple Lives

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    Hello, please consider my thoughts for submission to your weblog. Unlike many contributors here, I do not have a crystal clear picture of a past life, nor am I really sure what I believe my experiences to be, but I feel that this is a place that I can share them with like-minded people.
    For as long as I can remember I have been having flashbacks of some sort. These flashbacks hit me unexpectedly with a charge not unlike an electric shock.  They seem to be a memory of some sort, but one with deep emotional attachment. Immediately following a flashback I feel a deep sense of loss or longing for something I had but lost, though I don't know what it is.  The feelings are strong and very real but also fade very quickly as the flashback memory is hard to hold onto.
    Over the years I have identified 6-7 very different memories, each representative of a different time era, place or chronological age.  These same 6-7 scenarios have repeated themselves for most of my 49 years, though they are fading and becoming less frequent as I age. I have noticed that they seem to be triggered by something sensory...a scent, a sound, a particular play of light or weather pattern that feels oddly familiar. I have always felt that I would be somehow enlightened if I could remember the full story that created each memory.
    In one flashback I feel terror and desperation and see grayness everywhere. The soil around me is gray and finely powdered. I am having difficulty breathing and feel a sense of tremendous doom. I am not sure, but have questioned whether my visions are that of the great dust bowl of the 1930's?
    In another flashback I am in a smoky bar that sets below street level in an urban area. Again the time era feels 1930's - 1940's based on the heavy woodwork and clothes that I see around me (cannot see people's faces). I feel that I belong here and believe I spend a lot of time here, but again feel total despair and hopelessness. This is the first flashback I ever remembered and tried to tell my mother when I was around 5 years old
    My strongest flashback involves me being a child in some sort of encampment. I don't know why, but I feel like we are Gypsies and the time is turn of the 19th-20th century. This flashback makes me long painfully to go back here. I feel so free and unencumbered of all cares that I nearly cry with longing after I have this fleeting memory
    Last example is that I am an adult and am working alone in a very plush office late at night. The office is in a high-rise skyscraper and I know that I am someone very important. The city is dark with thousands of flickering lights and I feel a strange quiet surrounding me. This memory is also one of my earliest childhood flashback memories.
    I have tried to explain this to others over the years but they have looked at me like I had a third eye in the center of my forehead. I am happy to have found this web-site to share my experiences with others who may understand, or perhaps share my curious experiences.
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    Hey, I found your website and thought I should send you my memories.
     First, I was a white dog, I had a thick coat and was good-sized. I sat in the back of a wagon on a flour sack, while my human drove the horses. I nuzzled under his arm and he patted my head. I felt like I loved him so much, I would have done anything for him. He was wearing a light-colored shirt and dark pants with suspenders and a wide brimmed hat. This dream was in First Person, the way I looked was more of a feeling. I wonder sometimes if that man is my now fiancé. I love him the same way, unconditional. As for a timeframe, I'm guessing 1880's - 1900's.
    Second, I was in a large airplane, it had seats along the sides facing each other. It was military, I'm sure. I was standing behind the pilot and co-pilot, gripping on the back of their seats. We were doing a nosedive into dense jungle. At the moment of impact, everything went black. It was dead silent and I woke up more scared than I had ever been. My gut feeling is it was from the Vietnam War.
    Thanks for the listen. Take Care. ~Kristyn~
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    About 15 years ago, I had a past life regression done by a clergy member of a Christian church near my home. In doing this exercise I learned some things about my past lives and how they relate to the "current" me. I learned my soul is older than time, and that the job given to me by God was to go out and learn about people.
    My four most recent past lives are as follows: I was a male teacher in China, where I taught that men were superior to women. I joked later that I was the founder of Male Chauvinism.
    In yet another life, I was a lady in waiting for the Queen of France, Catherine De Medici. (I do happen to be French in this life on my grandmother's side).
    I was a woman living in Austria, a rather large woman with 13 children. I do know that it was the 1700's. (It so happens that in my current life, I am a direct descendent of the royal family who ruled the area during that time frame).
    I was a steel worker in a factory at the turn of the century. My co-worker in this particular past life was the past life of my current father. Confusing, I know. During this life, I was very successful and my co-worker/father was very disgruntled from that, because of that his attitude over that carried over into our current lives. I was advised that if I wanted any sort of relationship with my father, I would have to make the first move.
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Classification:  UNCLASSIFIED  - Caveats: NONE
Eileen, Perhaps these will be of interest to you and your readers. Blessed Be!
    When I was about three, I began to have a reoccurring dream, or nightmare rather. I cannot now remember all the details, and the dream itself was always pretty vague. I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down and trying to figure out a way to get down safely. I remember KNOWING that I will not survive this. There is a man behind me and I know that he is dangerous. He then shoots me in the back, right in the spine and a little below my shoulder blades, causing me to fall off the cliff. I can feel the pain of the shot, I smelled the gunpowder, and can feel the wind blowing past my body as I fall.
    In this current life I despise being touched in that spot on my back, am absolutely phobic of heights, and I've broken my back in that same spot.
    At around ten, I first started dreaming of me (as a boy) and another little boy (we were around 8 years old) walking through some pastureland with the greenest, lushest grass I've ever seen. It was a beautiful day. The land was separated by wooden split-rail fences, and I seem to remember that our clothing was concurrent with late 19th century styles. His were nicer than mine, and I remember being angry that I wasn't as well-off as him. We hear a noise behind us, a sort of snuffle-snort, and we look behind to see several wild boars following us. They have wicked looking tusks and we start to run, thinking "they'll never catch us!" The boars keep up, and youthful excitement soon turns to terror. I remember screaming at my friend to hurry and make it over the fence - he's running faster than me. If only we can make it over the fence... My calves start to hurt in anticipation of their tusks ripping through the muscle. I make it to the fence, and in the process of climbing over, a boar gets a hold of my right calf. I then wake up. I'm almost certain that the friend from my dream/recollection is the same as a boy I was best friends with in first grade in this current life.
    When I was twelve, I read a book about a little girl running away from home to become a sailor during the 18th century. The descriptions of the life, the ship, the duties and the atmosphere were so familiar to me. I couldn't put the book down, and poured over the passages that had to do with sailing on the vessel. I've always had a "thing" for the old-fashioned wooden ships and can visualize what it must've felt like to walk upon the deck of such a ship. This first time I was on a modern metal ship, I could only think "this is wrong" but felt an immense excitement at being "back at sea". This first trip was only across the English Channel, but as we approached the coast of England, I could point out where several coastal towns lay. Several years later, I was lucky enough to meet a sailing instructor who agreed to teach me when seeing my passion for it. He gave me control over his vessel after a half-hour of 'teaching' (reminding) me. I've never been so happy in my life. It was almost like coming home. Now, I grew up land-locked, never took a beach vacation with my family and had unsuccessful swimming lessons when a small child. I'm terrified of deep water, but as long as I don't look down into it and think about it, there is no better feeling to me than being on a seafaring vessel.
    This one requires a bit of backstory. In middle school, I had a friend whose mother was seriously into antiquing. On one of her trips to an antique fair, she came across a postcard of an extremely old painting of some unknown family. The thing was, the little girl in the painting was the spitting image of my friend's little sister, Lauren. So, when I was 15, I had a dream one night that I was (again) male, but this time around 20 or so. I know that I was tall and slender. My best friend was also tall, although not quite tall as myself, with piercing blue eyes and curly black hair that he wore almost chin-length. My feelings lead me to think that the times are what we now call the dark ages, although I don't have a better guess than that. I remember that I was really fond of my friend; we had a really close bond. I think that I was kind of a 'cold fish' - I remember that there were more men in our war band, but I wasn't really concerned with them too much, as if I couldn't be bothered with anyone else.
    We were on a mission to save a very small village whose people were being driven out and/or murdered by English settlers. I had a sword in my hand, and the five of us did what we could to round up the villagers before the soldiers came, but we were too late. We sent them running, and fought to buy them time. I fought against a large bald guy with dark eyes, probably around 35 year old who I knew was an enemy of mine. We took one loss and then managed to run off ourselves. We ran after the villagers we'd already sent out, and kept them going until they got to the nearby forest. Then my friends and I split off from the villagers, circling back around to make sure that everyone had gotten away, when I saw a train of flat-bottomed open carriages, and in one was a little girl (about 10) that looked just like Lauren. She saw us hiding amongst the trees, and started screaming bloody-murder, so we had to run again.
    I took an arrow in the back of my left shoulder with the arrowhead protruding from my under my clavicle. I fell, and my friend helped me up - the wound in itself was not life threatening. He looked terrified at losing me... Then I woke up. I do not have the feeling that I perished at that time. I've never had another dream about this time. This dream was, however, in another language, and for a few days after I was able to repeat some of the words spoken. I don't remember what the words are now, but I speak several languages and have made a study of it - I feel fairly certain that it was Gaelic or something close to it. The strange thing is, I recently have started to get massive sharp pains in those two areas of my shoulder, with no injury, no markings, and my doctor has no idea what it could be. ~ EireReaven
Classification:  UNCLASSIFIED  - Caveats: NONE
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    I feel that this is right. I haven't been regressed or progressed using hypnosis. I didn't dream these. I have these things where sometimes for half an hour or an hour I just kind of meditate/deeply think. These memories just popped up in my mind. I have always been interested in past life, philosophy, religion - which is odd I guess for your average 15 year old, but I've been like this ever since I was little.
    My first memory I got was when I asked myself some simple questions, none of them were working I thought it was a load of... well you know. Until I tried again, and I actually got something. My name is John and I feel like my last name is Derick. The time period is 1560's, it's in England and it's in a large town, not London, but somewhere large. Ipswich? I think, I'm not entirely sure. My father is John, and my mums name in this life is Theresa or Marie-Therese. My father has some sort of business, it's in the building that we live in. I was like 25-26 at that time in the 1560's. I felt like I died soon after this memory because my memory starts with the building where we live and work, in the town. I run out onto the street. I have blonde hair and hazel eyes. I look like I have just learnt of some shocking news - not rage, but a slight kind of terror in my eyes. I stumbled out of the building really. I felt like I had quite the temper. I think I was going to find something out, see if it was true. I think my rage might have taken over me. It's something I deal with in this life.
    My second memory is of a wealthy French woman, who has some sort of a tie to England. She is some sort of a dance instructor. I feel like ballet. It's in the 1920's and she is in her 50's. From what I felt in the memory she was nice, but she was stubborn and had a temper just like in my first past life that I can remember. Her hair is brown, hazel eyes. She has curly hair, very thick in a type of bob type thing. I feel like she uses her elegance and status to lord it over others. When I first read and then watched Poirot, I really felt connected to the type of people and everything about the time period. She was quite happy, she only needed herself. She never married. I think this is why in this current life I don't feel the need to be in a relationship as so many do. And from my meditation I feel like she died in 1933, on a train or in a foreign country - not France or England.
    Thank you so much for this website, Michael.
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    You can see from the dates that the first recollection came to me in 1988, the second in 2006. I have come to feel very lucky to have had my conscience awakened by That One. Nothing else would have produced the outcome I have experienced. Your website seems very valuable and very genuine.
      A Recollection. I was a merchant in Jerusalem. I sold tall clay jars and wine in tall jars in a narrow stall on a big street of such stalls. My business was a profitable one, I made a good living, and I enjoyed my work. I had many friends, some very close. My wife was a wonderful woman; we were very happy together, and our children were a joy to us.
   One day---I was alone in the shop, looking, as I did, onto the street---three bearded men in white walked by. One of them stopped, and, from the street, caught my gaze in his. In an instant, I knew that he Knew. He knew everything about me: my life, my pleasures, my hopes, my worries. But that was not important. He knew something else. He was that something, and as he looked at me---ten seconds perhaps---I saw that my life was a little thing, an unimportant thing. It meant nothing whether my business failed or I became rich, whether I had a shrew for a wife or an adoring woman. None of it mattered. And this man had not said a word to me.
    For the next weeks, I was like a man in a daze. Nothing had changed in my life, yet what I now understood made it all like ashes. There was nothing to say, even to my closest friend. I had no desire to see this man again, but somehow, quite by accident, I came on him preaching in one of the squares, and although I didn't stay to hear him, I later asked and found out his name.
   When I next heard of him, I heard he was to be crucified.  That day, I went down to my stall, went inside, but did not open the front of the stall.  I spent the day inside the dark stall, crying. I did not look for the man then, or since then, but that one look---I could not help it.  I have looked for myself since.
AFTERWARD: For months I did not know what to do.  My business was fine, my marriage fine, my friends still friendly. I was not fine. This man had opened a door in me, a door to a large, empty room. From time to time, I would feel completely hollow and find myself in tears. Less than a year later, I told my wife I was going on a voyage, left her with most of my money, and sailed for Greece. I was looking for something: I did not know what. In Delphi, at the temple of the oracle, I wished to enter, but I did not know what to ask. The eyes of the priest so reminded me of His eyes that I left.
   I believe I spent many years as a solitary teacher of boys in Eastern Europe, in a place where I was unknown.  I do not know if I ever saw my family again. - 11/13/88
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    Life after life, I remembered His eyes, but life after life, nothing changed. It wasn't working. Finally, I agreed to be broken down, decrystallized. It would not be pleasant.
    Centuries ago, I was tortured and totally humiliated. I became full of hatred, a toady; I would humiliate myself----or others. I became brutal and impassive. I tortured and killed others, and was in turn tortured and killed. I had become less than human, much less.  I was a repulsive, despicable monster, and I loathed myself. This went on for many lives.
    Somehow, His look never left me, even then. In the late 1930s or early 1940s, I was a Hasidic Jew, perhaps in Poland. Along with thousands of others, I was put into a concentration camp.  I became a “capo”, the head of a work crew. I did what was necessary to save my own life, even abusing other prisoners.
    One day, a rabbi was put in front of me and I was ordered to beat him. The rabbi had His eyes. I refused, screaming, “I saw Him! I saw Him!  The one you claim to worship! This is what He looks like! I saw Him!”
    This is the last thing I did in my previous life. I was killed on the spot. But I had finally overcome the last obstacle to my eventual freedom. And that is why I am here. I cannot begin to undo the harm I did in this nightmare, but in the words of a Hasidic saying “let us leave this disgraceful state and take service with the Creator.” This I can begin. - 1/19/06
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    Hello, I was browsing on the website about past lives and came up to yours. Well, I have always had visions of different areas around the world. I have 3 different soothsayers (none of them know about each other and they live in different countries throughout the world since I was in the military and travelled throughout different countries). According to all of them, my soul is over 3,000 years old and most of my lives I was in the mercenary field. From Drudic wizardry, to Arabic mercenary during the hanging of Jesus Christ (I believed I was passing by when he was sentenced and was brought to some kind of hill to be hung on a cross in Italy), to Japanese Ninjitsu, midevil mercenary, World War 1 and 2 and even up to today for being in the military (I got out with honorable discharge back in 2003). I have been in connection with Germany a lot in my soul and found out I was one of the  German Mercenary Generals hired by the Turkish Army to help aid the Turks to wipe out Count Dracul and his Army in the 1400's in Transylvania Romania. 
     One thing I learned about past lives is that we ALWAYS learn from our mistakes to better improve ourselves in the future.  For PRIME example, I do not have any hate towards the Jewish nation anymore even though I was a "monster" back then.  I have Jewish friends and they know about me and my past lives and forgave me. They are one of my best friends now! However, I do get the sense of finding out ways to "permanent eliminate" terrorism and have had nightmares about how "evil" I can do it since I have done it in the past before in reality, but since I know the outcome of what would happen (Nuremberg Trials), it is not my choice anymore to cause harm towards people. I let other people decide the fate of the world. I am now an artist, a computer programmer, and enjoying life now.  HOPEFULLY soon I will not be damned to this world anymore after over 3,000 years and I can FINALLY rest in peace after this lifetime.
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    I came upon this site years ago and can't remember if I wrote you. Since I don't see my story here, I'm going to assume I meant to but didn't. lol Anyway... I've had two dreams that have really stuck with me. The emotions that went along with them were so real, and the women in the dreams, well, I felt so connected to, that it does make me wonder.
    The first one was, I believe, somewhere in the western part of the US. It had to be at least 75 years ago given the furniture in my surroundings, but I can't be sure. This was more of a dream by observation, meaning, I was watching it take place but wasn't really "in" it. Anyway, there was a woman lying in bed. She looked much like I do now, with ashy brown hair and pale skin, though her face was a bit wider than mine. She was wearing a long white nightgown. The room was furnished in wood, old, worn wood. I take it this woman was poor. She was just waking up and, although I could not read her mind, I sensed despair. She was very unhappy, tired with life and couldn't imaging yet another day. She appeared exhausted in general. Although I'm not sure where this took place, the feeling I got was, like I said, in the western US. As for this dream, I can't remember much else.
    The next dream is one that really bothered me - and still does. In this dream I was actually a participant and felt everything, and thought all the thoughts, that the woman was feeling and thinking. It was horrible. The setting was, I believe, Ireland. To the right, in the far off distance, were green rolling hills, possibly higher hills even farther away - almost mountainous but not quite. In the opposite direction, off to the left, miles and miles from those hills, were shops all in a row, meaning, they were lined up and connected to each other in a long, straight line. I learned later, after some research, about the row houses in Ireland - something I never knew about before. Smack in between the hills to the right and row houses (which were old on the outside but sold surprisingly modern items) to the left was an old cabin, or shack even. First I remember being at the shops, and after that the scene changed. I was in the old cabin crying hysterically begging my mom not to give our dog away. Screaming and crying, "Please, please don't give her away, she's my baby, please don't give my baby away I love her!" Now, the dog in the dream was my current dog in real life - in this life I mean. In my dream she was there and I was begging my mom not to give her away, and I felt so much despair. It felt as if I had been shot in the heart - the emotional pain was so bad. But when I woke up the reality hit me. My mind used my dog (whom I loved dearly and has since passed on) in place of a real baby. Just as in the old row houses, instead of seeing old furnishings I saw modern ones. Anyway, the feeling I got when I woke up was that, in that old place, I was being forced to give up a baby.
     What's odd about this is that I've always felt a connection to the UK. Not necessarily Ireland, but the rolling hills, fog covered treetops, old cabins, etc. Mostly, as a child, I was focused on England - but I suppose the scenery in the countryside is close enough. Also, I've always had a phobia of male/female relations as far as reproducing is concerned. Part of it could be a fear of childbirth, but also there's a great fear of loss. When I see women with infants I become very nervous, very stressed, and when I hear of a woman who has lost a child I cry my eyes out as if my heart is breaking along with hers. Even though I have a hard time believing in the supernatural, I have to admit this would explain a lot, i mean, if it's real. Years later, when reading Angela's Ashes, I could barely get through a page without my throat tightening up. The description of the scenery, the society, the way life was back then, made me so tense that I actually had to stop reading for a bit. To this day, reading about Irish history, any part of it, makes me all tense. - Anon
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More Multiple Lives: II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VII