Tag: alternate lifetime

On Being Different – Early Adulthood

On Being Different – Early Adulthood

Due to my father’s health issues, my parents decided to move west. They had a house built just around the corner from one of my father’s sisters who lived in Marana, a small town outside of Tucson, Arizona. I had just experienced the best year of my life thus far and

— OUCH!! —

I had to move away from everyone and everything I knew and start over.

We arrived in Marana before our furniture did so we stayed at my aunt and uncle’s house for a few days. During that time, my father had the only nightmare I ever remember him having. I had been sitting in the kitchen area talking to my aunt when we heard him start to scream. She went to check on him and returned to tell me that he had been dreaming about spiders. I never learned anything more about his dream.

What do spiders symbolize? I suppose that depends on the source you look to for information. In my father’s case, I think they probably symbolized being entangled by the unknown and having to see his way passed the anxieties surrounding this foreign, new land. Or, maybe that’s merely how I was feeling.

My junior year of high school was one of the most emotional years of my life. I met someone who would later become my fiance, and even later become my stalker for over twenty-five years. Everyone at the high school knew who I was because I definitely stood out, but I didn’t realize how influential I was until ten years after I graduated. Having mastered the art of ignoring what people thought or said about me, I was oblivious concerning the impact I had on others. Thankfully, it was a positive impact.

Having been mocked and bullied so much in the past, I sought out those who were shunned or treated badly by others. I became a Peer Counselor and could be called out of class if another student needed to speak with me. I was also a free ride to the clinic if any girl needed to go there without anyone else knowing. Having been drawn to psychology since age ten, I couldn’t have been happier in this new role which allowed me to help other students. I have to admit, I was surprised at how comfortable people were opening up and sharing personal things about themselves with me. I guess my empathy, paired with my keeping to myself, made them feel safe.

At the same time, I was homesick. I missed my friends, the school dances, and the foods I grew up eating. I especially missed the falling leaves of autumn and the snow during the holidays. Miles of cactus-lined desert roads and melted snowmen snowglobes just didn’t do it for me. The high point of Christmas was belting out Feliz Navidad over and over again with my second cousin in one of those small restaurants with the mini jukeboxes at each table.

About seven months after moving into our new home, the strangeness began. The first thing I noticed were things being moved from where I’d placed them. I would throw my keys on my dresser, go to get them, then find them on my bookshelf. At first, I thought I had simply misremembered where I had left something. Then I started paying special attention to where I would put things. That’s when I realized things were really disappearing from one place and reappearing in another. Sometimes something would go missing from where I’d left it, then show back up in the same place twenty or thirty minutes later. For a while, this was happening at least twice a week.

I had been afraid of the dark since childhood, but that fear increased when I began feeling like I was constantly being watched. I had to turn on every light from my room to the kitchen just to get something to drink. Then late one night, after my parents had gone to bed and I wanted something from the kitchen, I heard the voice tell me that I was an angel and could produce my own light.

I finally gathered up enough courage to test it. I stepped out into the hallway and the entire hall lit up with a soft, white light. When I reached the family room, it was also bathed in light. The same was true for the kitchen. I had gone from my room to the kitchen and back without turning on a single light. But, like many other things of this nature, I only did it that one time. It was like I had completely forgotten it had happened until years later. It’s interesting that, right after this incident, people started referring to me as an angel.

I started practicing astral projection when I was nineteen and I used to visit people when they were sleeping. One day I received phone calls from three people who all told me that I had woken them up during the night. I decided to take it a step further to see if I could enter people’s dreams. I decided on Kevin, a friend from school.

I first remember seeing him sitting in the driver’s seat of a hearse looking incredibly sad. Everything looked so dull and gloomy, so I decided to brighten things up a bit. I filled the hearse with a seventies flower pattern in bold, almost fluorescent colors, and filled the outside sky with brilliant sunlight. He looked very surprised. Then I popped into the passengers seat next to him and he said, “It’s you!”

The next time I saw him, I asked him if he’d had any dreams about me. He started telling me about his dream of sitting in a hearse when, suddenly, everything became brighter. Then I chimed in with the information about the flowers which he confirmed. Then he said I appeared in the seat next to him. I told him that I couldn’t help myself when I saw him looking so sad. He said, “You were really there! You were really in my dream!”

I tried going into the dreams of two other friends and was successful with one. She was looking for a pair of shoes she had misplaced and I was trying to help her find them.

Then I tried traveling back in time to the house I grew up in. I made it to the house and went in the front door. Everything was just how it used to be. My father’s recliner in the living room near the window, my piano in the dining room, the photos of relatives on the buffet. I entered my room and saw things I had forgotten about, just little trinkets and things I’d acquired over the years. I went to the dresser to look at everything there, then I saw something sitting on the bed behind me. It was a creature blacker than any black I’ve ever seen. Every part of it was the same shade of black yet I could make out every detail. I heard, “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

That’s when I jumped through the bedroom window and started falling. I ended up in the trunk of a hollowed-out tree and heard voices outside asking one another if they’d heard that thumping noise coming from the tree trunk. I heard them walking over to investigate, then pulled myself back into my body and sat straight up in bed with my heart racing. I never purposely did astral projection again after that event. However, many years later, my husband would describe to me the creature he saw during a near-death experience. From his description, it sounds like we encountered the same type of being.

I had spontaneous memories of another lifetime which began when I was eighteen and stopped around age twenty-one. I would be working on something, crocheting, reading or writing, or any number of things that needed me to engage my mind when the visions would come. The memories were like short clips, each only lasting a minute or so. Though they were short, they employed all of my senses.

In one of the first memories, I was running up stairs made of stone. I could feel the cold, uneven stone against the soles of my feet. I was wearing a long white garment that felt like cotton and the stairway was dimly lit. I could feel my hair brushing across my face as I ran.

When I was twenty-one, I saw all of the segments pieced together.

I ran up the stone stairs into my room. The room was aglow from multiple candles positioned throughout. There was a cold breeze coming in through a window which caused the window coverings to flap and wave around in the air. My love was already in the room waiting for me. I remember a great passion between us and me pleading for him not to leave.

Then it was daytime and I found myself in a large room with walls made of stone. There were men dressed in armor who stood facing each other on each side of a carpet that ran down the center of the room. I walked down the carpet between them and joined an older gentleman who had been waiting for me at the front of the room. When I reached him, I turned so we were both facing the soldiers I’d just walked by.

There was another scene of what seemed to be a celebration. I think it took place in the same large room where the men in armor had been. There was music and dancing, couples doing something that reminded me of a waltz.

In the fourth vision, I was riding a horse up a gradual incline with tears on my face. It was cold outside and I was dressed in layers. It felt like I was wearing three dresses, one over another. I came to a stop atop a cliff overlooking the water. I sat there on my horse crying, silently begging for my love to return to me.

In the final vision, I am living in a small house with an older man and there is a palpable sadness hanging over me. It seems I have little will to live. The vision begins indoors with me laying on a piece of furniture near a fire. It ends with me and the man outside, our children running around a Maypole and laughing.

The combined story: I am in love with a soldier who is being sent off to a distant land. I think the dancing may have been in celebration of our wedding ceremony. I look for a ship to sail into port bringing him back to me but he never returns. I am married to an older man, old enough to be my father, and we have at least three children together. I never recovered from the loss of my love, his absence weighing heavier on my heart with each passing year. Eventually, the sadness was too much to bare and I released my hold on life.

When I told my husband about the spontaneous visions I’d had of an alternate life, he responded by telling me about his recurring dreams of drowning. He said he didn’t return to me because he had been stabbed, thrown off a ship, and then became tangled in something, perhaps a fishing net, that he couldn’t free himself of and he drowned.

Dreams or other dimensions?

Dreams or other dimensions?

I never thought about it until a couple of years ago when my waking reality began to seem almost dream-like, and some of my dreams felt like my true reality. In those dreams, I was aware of all of my senses. I could feel the firmness of a chair against my back, smell the aroma of coffee as it drifted through an open cafe door, hear the fluttering of birds competing for a scrap of bread, and see everything in clear, vibrant colors. In contrast, my day-to-day life has been filled with muted colors, fragrances that seem lacking, a quietness that can be unsettling, and an emotional and physical dullness. Are these dreams I have actually portions of reality, albeit an alternate reality or another dimension, seeping into this altered state of consciousness I have entered?

I had such a dream yesterday. I was aboard a spacecraft, one that felt familiar as it reminded me of a craft I’ve been on before, having a conversation with a man. The man might have been my husband but I cannot remember what he looked like aside from his dark hair. I saw others aboard the craft, some who looked human and one Mantis being who walked by on the way to another part of the craft, and it all seemed perfectly normal. The conversation I was having went something like this:

The man: (he was talking about getting ready to return to Earth)

Me: Why are you going back there?
The man: I still have things I need to do.
Me: You don’t have to go back. There are other places you can go.
The man: I have things I need to finish.
Me: You really don’t need to return, there are lots of other places to choose from. I am not going back there.

After that, my cat decided to wake me up. If she hadn’t, I may not have remembered any of it.

I have told my husband many times over the years that I’m not returning to Earth again, and that I felt like I was only here this time in order to retrieve him. Other parts of our story seem to confirm that, like the spontaneous memories I had at age eighteen of an alternate lifetime with him, and how I was told to go visit his house after my first marriage ended that eventually led to our first date.

I am left wondering, every day, if this reality where I am sitting here writing this, is actually just a dream I’m having in some better, alternate reality where both my husband and I are healthy, happy, and traveling the world together.