Over at Beckys site she was talking about past lives.
I totally believe in past lives. How else can we explain instant dislike for someone we've just met. That un-easy feeling that we sometimes get seeing someone whom would not or could not harm us? but yet we will avoid that person at all costs. That feeling of knowing someone for years when you've only known them a few days? I could go on but, I know you get what I'm trying to say.
Once in a while, we meet someone from a past life that we do recognize on some level, we might not understand or know what that level is, but the attraction, the feelings are there.
Jodie and are have known each before, so have Michelle and I. My friend Bob is another one who I connected within five minutes of meeting him. I know him from a past life in France. Funny thing about that, I took him to a seance one Sunday, with a pretty famous psychic I was apprenticing with. She had never met him, in fact I hadn't even mentioned him to her. Upon meeting him for the first time that night, she greeted him by calling him, Misure. I laughed, he had no idea why she was speaking French to him, in fact she normally doesn't speak or understand French. lol. But she recognized that past life in him in an instant.
I've had several lifetimes in France, it seems. One comes back to haunt me in dreams, and has for years. I've even had the dream even while in a trance. Jodie and I have even met the young man in the dreams/vision/past life. It was intense and strange. And to my knowledge, he has no idea who I was. I knew him though. The feeling of hurting him, helping him in this life and just keeping him safe was very intense and has left me in tears several times after meeting him. Thank goodness I don't have to meet him again. Not because he's not a wonderful, talented person, but because it hurts to much to walk away. Hell, I'm old enough to be his mother.
In the dream, we are in what I think is the French countryside. We are running towards something. We are holding hands, trying to outrun something or someone. We both are probably in our late teens, early twenties. We are dressed in period clothing, 17 or 18 hundreds. I in a peasant/Gypsy type dress. He in lace and britches. His hair is long, blonde and it is obvious that I am not in his class. I would be considered 'beneath' him. But we are in love, and can not be together.
We run to a tall tower. There is no door, just steps going high, slits cut out of the sides of the tower as we race to the top. We are being chased, but I at the time don't know by whom.
We reach the top, I kiss him, we look out onto the fields and hills, we hold hands, look into each others eyes and step off.
We fall towards our death. But right before we hit the ground, we break loose of each other's grip and we both soar high and away from each other.
I then know it was his father was was trying to stop us from jumping. I then know that it was my idea. I have convinced him that we will return again, and could be together in another life even if we couldn't be together in that life. He believed me. I knew even in that life, that that wasn't all there was.
Here is a poem I wrote several years ago.
Running upon the cold steps, grasping your hand, holding onto your heart.
Wind blowing onto our faces, with my urgent warm breath, convincing you to trust me.
Time freezes the two forms in my mind and I see...
A young love, betrayed, forbidden, condemned.
The tower stood, centuries old. Arrows pointed to our destiny.
French countryside beneath us, expanding our forever.
Beyond, deep dark woods stand to witness.
With dense fog of memories floating up.
Searching, yearning, reaching, waiting.
In my dreams…
I climb the tower of tomorrow.
I climb the tower of all my yesterdays.
I wait to hold you in my embrace.
And I watch for your recognition of our denied love.
The promises are spoken; time to be delayed, not to be broken.
I look into your eyes, hold my breath and together we fall.
The wind flows through my being, ripping you from my grasp.
As The waves of time swirl and separate us.
I pray our beliefs hold true.
Tomorrows have come, tomorrows have gone.
Lives were born and spent. Lives have been lived and lost.
Yet I wait for my tomorrow, as I still long for my past.
Wrapped in my own cocoon of the here and now.
Waiting for the arrow to point me to the truth.
And I dream of the tower steps, cold upon my feet.
The bitter wind beating upon my heart.
Your eyes looking deeply into me, reading me, trusting me.
I again know your heart. For I am of the same soul.
I took your hand, we kissed, and we stepped…
I climb the tower of my tomorrows
I climb the tower of all my yesterdays.
And I wait to hold you in my embrace.
And I still wait for your recognition of our denied love.