1860s – California

I am a man in California. I was not ugly, but I was rough and hard, my face wrinkled from hours in the sun and on the trail. I had light to medium brown hair, which had been blond in my youth, and I had a mustache and beard. My eyes were light, green I think. My body was thin and muscular but I did have a small belly.

I didn’t always live in California, I move there from the eastern US because of a job. I was in law enforcement and the gold rush had brought disorder to California. I mainly stayed in San Francisco, but my job took me all over the territory.

I remember that I had a wife, but she refused to move west with me. I remember that she was  very beautiful and frail with long black hair and porcelain skin. Since we lived so far apart, letters were our only contact. In those times I grew very listless and depressed. I found myself going against my marriage vows and spending the nights with prostitutes and whores. I had tried to resist the urge but had fallen victim to the devil and felt unable to control my desires. Eventually, it became a habit to visit a saloon and have a woman or two. The whiskey I drank helped me to numb my guilt. I drank only in the evenings at first, but the whiskey eventually became a daily, even hourly habit.

My main memory of this life was my death. I was in a hotel room, one or two stories up, in San Francisco when I died. I had felt ill the entire day and had stayed in my room hoping to “sleep it off”. I died in bed, in a drunken haze, from what I assume was liver failure, or maybe even a heart attack.

When I recalled this life I did not want to look at it or even confront that I could ever have lived such a life. The guilt from the life was overpowering. Not only had I been untrue to my wife, but I had been untrue to myself. Though I was successful in my job and was able to provide for my wife, I resisted the urge to leave my job and my whole promise of a future career to return to my wife, where I knew I would be much happier.

1920 – Midwest – Kansas and Tennessee

This life was a spontaneous recollection. I was unprepared for the horror of it. That account I will save for my own personal journal to save you from the details of it.

My first memory was of my mother. She was beautiful! She had long brown hair and would brush it over and over. I would also have my hair brushed, as would my sister. Mother would sing and cuddle with us. It was a wonderful memory.

Then mother got sick. I don’t know what it was, some kind of fever, but she died a week or so later. She left me, my sister and my father alone.

A few months after my mother’s passing my father began to come to my room at night. At first he would just hold me and stroke my hair. He would talk of mother and cry. Usually he had been drinking.

Then he started to touch me and eventually he began to use me for his own pleasure. I, being his oldest and loving him as my father, did as I was told. I felt awful, though, as if I were being punished for something. I oftentimes wondered what I did wrong and asked God why, praying and looking to the stars at night (note: when I first recalled this life it was the smell of my father – the alcohol and sweat of him – that I remembered the strongest. Remembering that part was the worst which is why I don’t go into much detail here).

I soon became afraid for my younger sister. I saw how he looked at her. We shared a room and I knew that she would be next. I tried to be quiet, so as to not wake her, and mostly I succeeded, but I knew she must have woken up because her eyes told me she knew.

The memory jumps to years later. I am a young woman, maybe 16. I reject my father’s advances and run away. I tell a neighbor and they are allow my sister and I to stay with them. Eventually, though, I have to leave, and I travel to Tennessee.

Then my memory jumps to another time. I enter a home and call out “Michael?” I ascend a large staircase in a Victorian looking home. It is eerily quiet. I walked into the bedroom of my infant son. I see him sleeping in his crib and go to give him a kiss. When I get close I realize he isn’t breathing.

I grab him and hold him to my chest, crying uncontrollably. His body is already cold and his face pale. I run to another room, my husband’s study. I find him there, sitting on the bed holding a pistol. His face is emotionless. When he sees me he does not respond to my questions. I am in hysterics when he aims the gun at me and shoots me in between the eyes. I fall dead, holding my dead child.

I remember leaving my body and looking down. I see my husband looking at me. Tears stream down his face. He puts the gun in his mouth and fires.

Another note: When I recalled this past life for the first time, my guide Steven was leading me through it. When I had a question, he helped me sort through the flashes of memories from the life that came as my answers. I wanted to know if my husband had killed my son and I instantly knew he had and even saw in my mind as he smothered him in his crib – this was perhaps one of the hardest to bear and it took a while for me to sort through the emotion of it. I also wanted to know why my husband had done it. I was shown how he had been told by someone he knew in a joking manner about how everyone knew how I “got around”. Apparently I was quite the adulteress and successfully kept it from my husband. When he found out, he assumed his son was not his and was so humiliated that he went into some kind of psychotic state which is why he did what he did.

1963 – Southern USA – Louisiana

This memory came to me after my guide told me one morning, “You died this day in 1963”. Shocked, I immediately went to meditate. In meditation I was shown the last twenty or so years of my life.

I am a black woman in the South. I am petite with shoulder length, straightened hair, high cheekbones and had an almost child-like appearance. I am a nurse and worked for the Red Cross during WWII. I had two children, a son and a daughter, who were teenagers.

My first memory is of standing up to my abusive husband. I met him at the door to our house and shot him in the right shoulder, but was aiming for his heart. He had been abusing my daughter and I was not going to allow it.

My next memory was of my death. I died of liver failure in 1963. I remember my family standing around me singing “I’ll Fly Away”. I left peacefully with my son and daughter at my side. I know my liver failed because I contracted Hepatitis C when I accidentally stabbed myself with a dirty needle.

1971 – Midwestern USA – Kansas

I am a boy of about six. I have blond hair and blue eyes.

My first memory is leaving my mom and our house in a Camaro with a man who I think is my father or at least he is a father figure. I remember my mother waving. She was wearing a blue dress which reminded me of the 1960s.

I remember not liking the man who was driving the car who I assume is my father or step father. He was not very nice and told me to shut up a lot.

My next memory was of being under water. I was holding my breath and looking down at my blue jeans and red, Converse sneakers. I was being held under the water. I tried to kick up to the surface but a man’s hands were holding me down. I could see the rippling of the water above me and could tell it was still light outside, though it was getting darker. I remember wondering why and feeling heart broken as I took in a breath of water and died.

When I left my body I was confused and frantic, heart broken and hurt. I wanted to know why my father/step father had killed me. I wanted to know why and kept asking over and over. The question why was all I could think of as none of the circumstances of my death made any sense to me. I remember talking to two others in Spirit, a man and a woman, who were trying to get me to move past my question of why so that I could move on. I wouldn’t listen to them. I followed my body for a while, watching as it was laid upon a table in a coroner’s office. I tried to re-enter my body, but I couldn’t. I tried time and time again. I remained in this earthbound state from approximately 1971-1974.

At some point I finally listened to the man and woman in Spirit who were trying to help me cross over. I finally accepted that there was no answer that made any logical sense because my father’s action were illogical. When I turned to go with the woman, there was light around me and I finally began to feel peace, but the unanswered question still remained with me as did a feeling of sadness and pity for my father.

460AD

I am a man. I can barely see and am dizzy. I am very hungry and thirsty. I can see a sandy color all around me and an open window to my left. I can see the blue sky outside. The ground is also sandy colored and I can feel that it is dirt. When I look down at myself I see my ankles are cuffed and chained to the ground. I want to die and try to close my eyes. I hear a man’s voice above me shout, “You can’t die yet” and feel a pain in the side of my head. The dizziness returns and I black out.

1610AD

I recalled this life in hypnosis.

I am a young woman in France, probably around the age of 19. I have dark hair and am about 5 feet tall. I am very thin and fairly attractive. I am married to a Duke or someone of royal ties. He is much older than me and I consider him very unattractive. He has dark hair and is very tall and slender. His nose is very pronounced.  I resent the fact that I am married to my husband. It was an arranged marriage by my parents. I believe I originally came from Spain.

I remember the house that I lived in was very grand. Like a castle and made of stone. It had beautiful green lawns and gardens and down a hill from the house was a pond with swans and tall reeds. It was very peaceful and I often went to sit by the pond and gaze at the beautiful wildlife there.

I know I had a daughter who was the light of my life. I remember taking her to the pond and having picnics with her. She brought meaning to my life and I became happy for the first time since marrying my husband. I was content and at peace with my life and started recognizing just how wonderful my husband was. It caused me to fall in love with him. Life couldn’t get any better.

Then the sickness hit me. I couldn’t breathe and felt weak. I got a fever and had to stay in bed. I hated it. The room was cold and dank. I felt my life slipping away. I was angry and resentful of God for taking me when my life was so wonderful. I hated leaving my daughter behind. I was only 23 when I died of pneumonia.

Around 1700AD

I recalled this life in hypnosis.

I am a Native American man. My first memory is riding a horse bareback when I am very small, about six years old. I recall clutching him with my legs and feeling the wind in my face. It is a pleasant, free feeling.

Then I skip forward and I am a man of about 21. I am quite full of myself. In my short life I already have a wife and two children – sons. I am a great warrior and the best with the bow and arrow of my entire tribe. I am full of spirit and desire to make war with a neighboring tribe who keeps trespassing onto our hunting grounds.

I recall a meeting with our chief. We discuss the other tribe and I let him know my desires to make war with them, or count coup. His decision is final though. We are not to do anything about the other tribe. We are to continue to patrol and hunt, but that is it.

I was furious. I was determined to show our chief that he was wrong. I got together a band of warriors and convinced them that we needed to make a raid on our neighbors. They followed my lead. It was a mistake.

When we approached the neighboring tribe they were alerted to our presence. They came at us with clubs and I was unable to duck down fast enough. I was hit in the head and thrown from my horse. I was killed instantly.

When I recalled this life I remember feeling regret over not listening to my chief. I recall recognizing my lesson and learning it well. Never again would I ignore the wisdom of my elders and I would be wary of having too much pride and not enough heart.

Late 1700s

I recall myself as a woman in this life. I am young, maybe 22-23yrs old. I am a teacher of small children. I am also a nun. I am in the United States in the city of Chicago.

I recall my death first. I am ill and laying in a bed in a very small room. I recall leaving my body and going out the window. As I looked back, I could see the brown colored bricks of the small room I was in and the larger building behind it – the church. I had no regrets, only peace and gratitude for the life I lived.

I recalled at that moment more of my life. I was abandoned on the church doorstep by my mother. The church took me in and the nuns there raised me. As a teenager I became a nun myself and my job was to teach the children at the orphanage.

I rarely went outside the church into town and when I did I felt very alien and uncomfortable. I was very shy and quiet; rarely speaking unless spoken to. I was sad most of my life but I didn’t know why. When I died I had been coughing for some time. I had a fever and when I laid down one night I never woke up.