VISIONS: PAST LIVES Part 1

 

In the original ROOTS I mentioned visions. Let’s go back to that.

During one period of my life I was shown a few previous lives. We have so many lifetimes, but they should be seen as one Life. I saw these through my eyes at the time they were happening. If it was far in the past it seemed like I was looking through a tunnel. If the more recent past the tunnel was shorter. Though tunnel doesn’t really say it well. My point of view is, I think, from farther back in my brain. Once I looked into the future.

I saw myself on Atlantis a couple of times. I was in a temple once. I danced in Atlantis. The architecture was different – sort of like a melding of modern and Oriental. Perhaps it was only the building I was looking at. Small vehicles, long and narrow, were parked on a black pavement. Big enough for just one person and I think when they were in operation they moved a short distance above the ground.

In Egypt I wore one of those beautiful headdresses that cover the head and rise up. I walked through the coolness of what seemed to be some kind of tomb.

Somewhere I lived on a little farm in a weathered house. I saw the farm, then was inside the hot kitchen cooking the noonday meal on a wood-burning stove. A teen-age daughter, who reminded me of my daughter in this life, was helping me. I took a pan of biscuits from the oven and then to the table. It was like a picnic table with benches on either side, one end of the table shoved against the wall. Some small children sat with their backs to me. On the other side of the table, facing me, sat a man that I didn’t look at. The young boy beside him looked to be sort of chunky, or stout maybe the word, but not overly so. He looked up at me and when I looked into his eyes I recognized my older son of today who is 6’6” tall.

The first life I saw I was tied to a huge post, more like the truck of a tree that had been cut down. I was looking at a soldier wearing armor, even his face was covered. I knew it was me tied to the post as I was looking out of her eyes, and wondered what I looked like. Instantly I was seeing the picture from in front of her. I thought of her as ‘her’ because she was so magnificent. She was barefoot, with some kind of cloth or skin falling from one shoulder down to just below the top of her thighs.. Her hair was wild. I could see in her face that she was me, and geez, was she angry! If she could have gotten loose she would have had the soldier for breakfast. I thought she was truly magnificent. I still smile when I look at her.

When I lived in the San Gabriel Valley there was an old house from the 18th or 19th Century that was in need of repair. A group was trying to get it declared a historic monument so it was still standing there for awhile. Tracts of houses and a small shopping center had sprung up around. There was also an old one-room school which had been moved to another location nearby so it was being preserved.

We were at the market one day and the gates to the house were open so we drove in to get closer look. It had two floors with a narrow staircase against one wall. We didn’t go inside as it was locked. How do you explain a strange feeling as you walk around a place? I walked along a path that led to a wooden bridge across a moat to a small island but the bridge had fallen in. As I retraced my steps suddenly I was wearing a long orange gown. I was actually wearing a grey flannel pantsuit with a boxy jacket. I was not wearing a long orange dress. There were not flowers and greenery everywhere. I reached down and grabbed my pants legs to make sure I knew where I was and the spell was broken. I re-entered the here and now.

An odd feeling stayed with me that I couldn’t shake. It had captured my daughter as well. Finally she asked, “Are we going to move into that house, or what?” I told her, “I think we have already lived there.”

The house wouldn’t go away. On this day I had sent the little ones to school and was doing chores. Had just made the bed and was adjusting the pillows. Finished, I straightened up. From that point of view I was standing in the middle of a sea of tall grass, blowing gently in the wind. I was looking at that house in it’s heyday. The tall grass was everywhere. I looked to my left and there was the little school in it’s original place. I turned back, past the house and looked behind. There were the foothills, looking the same, except the trees looked a bit different. As I turned back toward the house I noticed a fence alongside a narrow lane. With my eyes I followed it till it reached the place to turn into the house. There was a man on a huge horse, just turning into the driveway. He moved along a short distance, then stopped. He bent over, reaching down the ground. I couldn’t see what he was doing because the grass was so high. The he straightened up with a little tyke in one hand, sat it in front of him, and kept moving toward the house. One of the windows in the house claimed my attention but it was at an angle so I could see nothing. Suddenly it was all gone and I was standing beside the bed looking at the wall.

Only a few of many. Walt Whitman once wrote, “I, Myself, have died 10,000 times before.”

This makes racism look like the thing it is – the stupidest thing on the planet.

 

We’ll get back to that old house….

 

UPDATE: I have since learned that the house was saved. It was moved to another location.

 

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VISIONS Part 4

 

This is the first major, breath-taking vision that I remember. I was married and had young children when it happened. I was so stunned by it and it’s presentation that I actually told my husband about it. Big mistake.

It was night. I was sitting in the passenger side of a car, just sitting there like I was waiting for something or someone. The door on the driver’s side opened and a man got in. I didn’t know him but I knew of him, had heard of him. I was surprised to see him. I didn’t seem to think it odd how he looked; acted like I didn’t see the Western hat, the huge sunglasses, and that the bottom of his face, beneath the sunglasses, was covered with a mask. The mask was formed like a human face. He had a presence that was unique. In the vision I knew who he was. I was engaged to be married in the vision. He said, “You’re not going marry him, you’re going to marry me.!” Perplexed, I just looked at him. He started the car and drove off as I thought, “He’s a good driver.”

We drove to an old house which was in my neighborhood; the house was from another century. The outside of the house was the same. Inside it was totally different. Much bigger, with a ton of people milling about like they were having a party. My ‘fiancee’ was there, standing by a long table with some other people. He was my real-life husband. He was wearing a suit that he had when we got married but no longer owned. The Man with me gave him the same message: “She’s not going to marry you; she’s going to marry me.” Then we turned our back on the party and, hand in hand, walked toward the stairs.

The stairs were very wide and covered with furniture. From side to side, from top to bottom, chairs, sofas, tables, whatever, the stairs were covered with furniture. We just looked at each other and started to climb over it. If I had trouble as I struggled to climb over the barrier,  he helped me, pulling me across the obstacle that blocked the way,  both of us laughing all the while.

I don’t know how long we climbed or how many floors, but suddenly we were at the top. We stepped onto a landing that faced a wall. Suddenly I had to use the bathroom. There was a door to our left that he opened. It was supposed to be a bathroom. It was much larger than most bathrooms and had no fixtures except a large toilet bowl in the middle of the room. No tank, no sink, just boxes stacked around the walls like the room was used for storage.

It was the toilet bowl that claimed my attention immediately. Not one like you see in a home, but one that is always used in public restroom – big white bowl with a black seat that was split in the front the way those black seats always are, not a complete circle. A public toilet. I was dismayed but said nothing. Still, I didn’t want to sit on a public toilet. Toilets in a dream have to do with cleansing. And this was a public toilet.

I closed the door as he waited outside, then the scene changed. I was up on the bowl with a foot on either side of the seat, stooping down. (Sorry about the graphics). I heard voices and looked back at the door that I had entered. It, too, had changed. It was wood on the bottom and a single pane of glass formed the top half. Outside the door was the Man and an old lady. He was saying to her, “Take care of her. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I turned to look at the room around me with boxes on the floor and stacked against the walls. When I turned back around, the Man and the old lady were gone. Suddenly I noticed another door right beside the one I had entered. Earlier when we stopped on the the landing we faced a wall that apparently had another room on the other side of it. Now there was a door that I hadn’t noticed before. It led into that room and it, too, was half wood, half glass. There was a wall phone beside the door on the inside of that room. Standing directly in front of the door with the handset to his ear was my husband at that time. He was looking me straight in the eye. We looked at each other for a minute, then the vision vanished.

 

~~~~~Bathrooms have to do with cleansing. The boxes represent the psychological content of our Consciousness that we have stored in our brains that eventually must be looked at, considered and emptied. That’s the cleansing of the brain of the past. It’s part of spiritual growth.

As I finished writing each of these posts back in the Spring of 2014, I published them on a forum. They didn’t stay up long as I felt I had bared my soul, and it was unnerving. I couldn’t rest till I deleted them.

I see them differently now.