Audio: Readings by the author
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Flashback:
Amid a recent altered state, I was overwhelmed by three lucid visions, accompanied by associated emotions, that left me troubled and grieved.
You may draw your own conclusion as to whether the following accounts are considered lunacy, hallucination, the product of an overactive imagination, or genuine past life regression.
The 1st - I’m enslaved on a cotton plantation in the deep south. A man of faith, put to work alongside a woman I adore, also of African origin.
We are released from our captivity by a humanitarian reformist who negotiates a price for our liberty. We’re bestowed with enough capital to buy a modest timber house, and enabled to marry and bring in a small income. My wife gives birth to two daughters.
I’m sitting in the shade of our veranda, happy and proud, listening to the voice of my wife singing in the kitchen, our daughters are laughing and playing at my feet. I retain a secret, which gives me reason to feel victorious. The night before I'd been invited [deceitfully] to the slave owner’s homestead. After dinner his daughter led me to a barn were I was seduced
My joy and deep satisfaction is short lived, as we are confronted by an approaching lynch mob. I am separated from wife and children, who are mercilessly slaughtered in front of my eyes.
Rope tied to a tree, noose around my neck, the faces of the people below stare back at me with glee. Silently I beseech:
‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do’.
The last words I hear are:
‘Nigger pack your bags!’
The 2nd - The eve of the Battle of the Somme. I’m in command of a company of men from my home town. With my younger brother’s approval [second in command], I announce to the troops:
‘We’re not going over!’
Our trench erupts with the elated cries of fellow countrymen and celebrations ensue.
An orderly is despatched to identify the cause of the din and report back to an officer.
That night, I and my brother are hauled up before the officer. I am ordered three times to rescind our decree and go into battle. Each time I respond:
‘No Sir!’
My brother too is commanded to obey but also refuses.
We are condemned to face the firing squad.
In separate cells, I am served a last meal of horse steak, my brother is severally beaten. We face our executions together at dawn. The firing squad comprises a dozen Comrades. Rifles at the ready, their distraught faces and tears reveal their love for us. In defiant unison, my brother and I yell our final words:
‘No Sir!’
The 3rd - less detailed but no less vivid. Dorset 1930s. I’m a young man standing on a lawn observing an inferno raging on the top floor of a house. Dispassionately, the knowledge that my mother is being incinerated, affirms my resolve to join the air force.
I’m flying solo over France. My plane is struck by enemy fire. I pilot the blazing craft directly into a munitions store.
Who can say if these are authentic remembered incarnations? I can say, that the intense recollections are seared into my psyche, and for me at least, remain very raw, and very real.
Amid a recent altered state, I was overwhelmed by three lucid visions, accompanied by associated emotions, that left me troubled and grieved.
You may draw your own conclusion as to whether the following accounts are considered lunacy, hallucination, the product of an overactive imagination, or genuine past life regression.
The 1st - I’m enslaved on a cotton plantation in the deep south. A man of faith, put to work alongside a woman I adore, also of African origin.
We are released from our captivity by a humanitarian reformist who negotiates a price for our liberty. We’re bestowed with enough capital to buy a modest timber house, and enabled to marry and bring in a small income. My wife gives birth to two daughters.
I’m sitting in the shade of our veranda, happy and proud, listening to the voice of my wife singing in the kitchen, our daughters are laughing and playing at my feet. I retain a secret, which gives me reason to feel victorious. The night before I'd been invited [deceitfully] to the slave owner’s homestead. After dinner his daughter led me to a barn were I was seduced
My joy and deep satisfaction is short lived, as we are confronted by an approaching lynch mob. I am separated from wife and children, who are mercilessly slaughtered in front of my eyes.
Rope tied to a tree, noose around my neck, the faces of the people below stare back at me with glee. Silently I beseech:
‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do’.
The last words I hear are:
‘Nigger pack your bags!’
The 2nd - The eve of the Battle of the Somme. I’m in command of a company of men from my home town. With my younger brother’s approval [second in command], I announce to the troops:
‘We’re not going over!’
Our trench erupts with the elated cries of fellow countrymen and celebrations ensue.
An orderly is despatched to identify the cause of the din and report back to an officer.
That night, I and my brother are hauled up before the officer. I am ordered three times to rescind our decree and go into battle. Each time I respond:
‘No Sir!’
My brother too is commanded to obey but also refuses.
We are condemned to face the firing squad.
In separate cells, I am served a last meal of horse steak, my brother is severally beaten. We face our executions together at dawn. The firing squad comprises a dozen Comrades. Rifles at the ready, their distraught faces and tears reveal their love for us. In defiant unison, my brother and I yell our final words:
‘No Sir!’
The 3rd - less detailed but no less vivid. Dorset 1930s. I’m a young man standing on a lawn observing an inferno raging on the top floor of a house. Dispassionately, the knowledge that my mother is being incinerated, affirms my resolve to join the air force.
I’m flying solo over France. My plane is struck by enemy fire. I pilot the blazing craft directly into a munitions store.
Who can say if these are authentic remembered incarnations? I can say, that the intense recollections are seared into my psyche, and for me at least, remain very raw, and very real.