My immediate past life, 1920(?) - 1957(?)

There's one I've uploaded to my blog (see link below); because there are two big pics which are integral to the story, I can't post them here other than as small, low-res images which don't do them justice.


Anyway, the story continues...


Michal

Those pictures were really fascinating, Michal - maybe you saw a similar landscape in your life as James Martin, and that's why they seem to be so familiar?


The funny thing is, when I saw those pictures I had the impression that I had seen them in my Maxim life as well! Do you know if the book was translated into Russian?


In 1958 I would have been in my late teens, about 18 or 19 and definitely too old for children's book, but maybe the book belonged to Belanka. That would be too funny, wouldn't it?

Not from America, rather northern Europe. Norway? West Germany?


Well, it was translated into English:


http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/28472-Julian-Tuwim-The-Locomotive


Into Russian?


http://www.google.pl/search?hl=pl&q=%D0%9B%D0%BE%D0%BA%D0%BE%D0%BC%D0%BE%D1%82%D0%B8%D0%B2+%D0%AE%D0%BB%D0%B8%D0%B0%D0%BD+%D0%A2%D1%83%D0%B2%D0%B8%D0%BC&btnG=Szukaj+w+Google&lr=


Search me!


The poem was written in 1938, the book I now have was published in 1958. It would be interesting to see if it was ever translated and published in the USSR. On the other hand, books published in fraternal socialist countries often turned up in the USSR (book fairs etc), so Belanka could have seen that...


Michal


BTW: Any former USAF bases in your part of Germany, Nathali?

Thanks, Michal! The English version of the poem sounds very, very familiar, I'm pretty sure I read that to Belanka when she was little! That's really amazing, the amount of things we've found out and verified so far!!!


Well, maybe you saw that landscape in a place in Europe where you were stationed then!


I put the Russian pages through Babelfish, but as far as I can see, none of them mentions a translation of the poem into Russian. But, as you said, it probably existed, so there's a chance that this could be a true memory.


Yes, Michal, there is a former USAF base near where I live, the one in Bitburg for example, as well as the Spangdahlem one. If you want me to find anything out for you, feel free to ask!

Lokomotywa in Russian - if it were found (and with the same illustrator), this would be very significant! The poem is still published to this day, it has been reprinted many times, but only the 1958 edition was by Jan Lenica. This, to me, is the classic. This is the one to check whether a Russian version had been published.


US bases - I know of Bitburg and Spangdahlem from the present - don't want to claim any PL familiarity with the names. Rhein-Main sounds familiar, flying in and out of Europe through this base. Similarly Wiesbaden. The ones I get vibes from most is Neubiberg AB and Landsberg AB.


Postwar German aircraft with the new-style crosses seem very familiar.


The interesting thing in this digging is that James Martin would have been in Europe later than I imagined, probably returning to the USA in late 1956 - so he died soon after getting home.


Michal

It would indeed be great if we could find a Russian edition illustrated by Jan Lenica - I'll definitenly have to look for it once my head feels better! (Spent too much time in front of the computer, I should really know by now when to stop...)


It seems as if poor James Martin didn't really have much time left after returning to the USA then - what a shame!


Even if Bitburg and Spangdahlem don't seem familiar from your past life, the offer still stands - if you need me to look something up or inquire about something in German, just drop me a line!

My West Germany flashbacks are about autobahns, VW Beetles with split oval rear windows, white oval numberplates with heraldic devices, funny little cars, milk bars with blue and white neon, US military convoys, Military Policemen in white helmets, Aral petrol stations, a nation rebuilding itself yet wracked with guilt. More dynamic than my Norway posting, yet Scandinavia had more of a pull.


Those noctural sounds of a military airbase, engines roaring; I love that when I lie awake in my bed and can hear Warsaw's Okecie airport like that.


Michal

Your flashbacks of Germany sound very vivid indeed, those must have been turbulent and interesting times! It's no wonder you still love hearing the roar of the engines at night, that must have been a very important sound in your past life, and one you could relate to. It's fascinating how things like that never seem to leave us, isn't it?

Preference is all. Why some people take a lifelong fascination to a period in time, to its music, art, fashion, architecture...


There's no evolutionary biological reason why this should be - preference is above and beyond genetics, a key factor in the personality of the soul.


Michal

Very well said, Michal; what sense would a "preference gene" make in evolution anyway? Preference for a certain type of food, a certain type of sexual partner, that I can understand, but preference for a certain kind of music, architecture, language, you name it - that definitely lies deep in our souls. It can be an interesting journey of discovery to find out where what comes from, can't it?

Reynardine said:

It can be an interesting journey of discovery to find out where what comes from, can't it?

Click to expand...

I live to find out. Life has two layers, the biological/economic layer and the spiritual. Well situated on the first, I seek answers to the second.


We are here to fulfil a biological purpose, but also to find answers; I'm getting more and more convinced that answers cannot be found in one, or two, or ten lifetimes, but over an eternity of gradually getting closer. I feel that I'm more than half-way from zero to one, but even if one halves that gap each lifetime, that gap of understanding will remain.


I am fascinated by your Russian memories and think you extremely fortunate that you can remember with such clarity and detail.


But with the detail in place, the validation can take place - and then answers, reasons, explanations. The journey of discovery gets much deeper then.


I'm getting to really appreciate this forum, with its diversity of views, experiences, theories - this is an excellent place for a questing soul, wishing to avoid dogma, searching for fragments of the answer to the greatest question of them all.


Michal

Michal, you're so right, finding the deeper meaning and purpose of everything is a journey that will probably take us hundreds of lifetimes in various places and eras. This forum definitely is a great help, with so many people from all walks of life and from countries all over the world meeting and discussing things in a tolerant, friendly manner. Having past life memories would only be half as interesting if we had no one to share them with...

Little flashback this evening to share... It is the County Fair, I'm around 13 or 14. The excitement has been mounting for many weeks, finally it's come round. There are stalls everywhere, some even illuminated with electricity. There's noise and crowds, calliope music, merry-go-rounds, the smell of food, fried onions, hot dogs, toffee apples. This is the most exciting thing in my life. At a stall, in among the jostling crowd, I come up close to a girl wearing a white blouse. She's slightly older than me; her shoulders are bare. It's the first time I've been this close to a female in such a state of attire. Having been brought up a good Catholic boy I'm part shocked, part thrilled. This was moment of awakening for James Martin.


Michal

Thank you for posting your latest flashback, Michal; that was very interesting! It must have been a very exciting event for young James Martin, and it's no wonder he was partly shocked and partly thrilled by that girl's attire!


Did you already live in the USA then? Such things must have been very new and unusual for an Irish boy, no wonder you were fascinated!

Yup - this would have been, I think (no validation yet), Kentucky - maybe Ohio. James left Ireland as a small child. America was far more exciting!

Ah, thanks for the clarification! Yes, I see why America would have seemed far more exciting to him, all those things probably didn't exist in Ireland! How old do you think James Martin was when his family emigrated? Was he old enough to have even vague memories of Ireland, or was he far too young for that?

My guess is that James Martin would have been a very small child. I believe that his parents fled Ireland during its Civil War, which lasted from 1921 to 1923. I've been to the Republic of Ireland three times and felt that 'familiarity' in the landscape, which is different to that of North Wales, where I've been dozens of times. I have no PL 'familiarity' with North Wales or indeed West London whatsoever.


I've written before about the significance of "Fox Hall" to me as a small child - this points to to a village near Tuam, Co. Galway. One day, I shall visit to seek validation.


On the other hand, I have no recollection (I should have!) of the long ocean voyage to America. As a child (before the Channel Tunnel and low-cost flights), all my visits to continental Europe were by ship; I never had any PL flashbacks while sailing (I should have had!). Can't explain.


Michal

Well, maybe you've had no flashbacks because you were still rather small when you crossed the Atlantic as James Martin, and perhaps you didn't remember it in that life either!


I have no idea why the Irish landscape should seem so familiar but you don't remember anything about the ocean voyage, but memory sometimes works in that selective manner, and I don't think it always makes sense. Or perhaps those memories, those of the landscape, were more important than those of travelling across the ocean; why that could be the case is beyond me, but perhaps there is a reason...

Zig Zag - more detail, validation?

michaldembinski said:

At this stage, I think I can attribute the following incident into my past life as James Martin:


http://www.childpastlives.org/vBulletin/showthread.php?t=13734

Click to expand...

Well, Google Earth fans, Zig Zag, Oregon, is now in higher definition. Simply cut'n'paste these coordinates:


45°20'36.20"N, 121°56'33.82"W into your Google Earth search box, zoom into 500m, and there's the Zig Zag Inn. Spin the viewpoint through 180 degrees so you are looking at Inn from the north, tilt the horizon so the mountain looms over you - and there you are - in my dream! Now imagine you are heading east, running along the Mt. Hood Highway in the early morning mist, escaping from the consequences of what's just happened!


This is quite stupendous!


Michal

A dream, a name


Couple of nights ago I got a vision of a pick-up truck in a pre-sleep reverie; this turned out to be a Dodge Power Wagon. Last night, I dreamt of this pick up truck. On the tailgate, stamped into the metal, the word 'Dodge'. The truck was grey (or at least the tailgate was - may have been non-original). I was with a group of men, gathering hunting rifles from the flat-bed, the tailgate was dropped down, then every man grabbed his gun. But this was no hunt - it was a manhunt. We were after a criminal/escaped convict. The name came through clearly in my dream - "Clifton (or Clinton) Carr". Of course Google obediently throws up hundreds of Clifton/Clinton Carrs at me, all obligingly alive in America in the early 1950s...


Michal

Michal, that's a rather detailed memory, and it's great that you could even identify the Dodge. And you even got Google results for the name of Cifton or Clinton Carr; even if they unfortately didn't yield any clear results, I still think it's a nice bit of confirmation. Do you think you and the others were part of a private manhunt, or were you employed by the law enforcement or government?

This one's shaping up! I think that Clinton or Clifton Carr was a local bad man who'd done some wrong and had high-tailed it into the brush; the townsfolk tooled up with carbines and set off, under the auspices of the sheriff, to track him down. The year would have been 1950/51; James Martin would have been on furlough from his Air Force duties and delighted to join in on such an expedition.


Michal

Back from London, where I had two nights with insightful dreams. It's funny how your dreams are always more vivid - and more interesting - when you're not sleeping in your own bed - anyone else notice this?


On Wednesday, I dreamed of the manhunt again. There was a group of men, we'd gathered in a road house on the edge of town, just before dawn for breakfast. It was 'on the house'; the owner of this institution (which doubled as a burlesque venue nights) was either the sheriff or a benefactor to the forces of law and order; we breakfasted on bacon, waffles and syrup and black coffee then headed out across the substantial car park in a glaring sunrise to our pickup trucks to head for the brush where Clinton Carr was hidin' out.


I also dreamed that James Martin was visiting a woman. I got the feeling that she was married. James let himself in the back door and found her waiting for him, sitting on the sofa with her feet (in high heels) up on the seat. She was wearing a pleated A-line skirt and a blue knitted cardigan. The room was decorated in the late 19th century 'Gilded Age' style that James found stilted, stuffy and out-of-date.


On Thursday morning I dreamt of that small Texas (?)/Oklahoma (?) town again. I was pulling into park my pickup by the gun store. The shop window was full of hunting rifles, handguns and boxes of ammunition. I went in to buy some ammo for the manhunt that would take place early the


next day.


I also dreamt the woman's name - just came to me, a propos of nothing,but I knew this name referred to the same woman I dreamt of the previous night. I was 'Vicky Mariner'.


Last night, I had just one, very brief return to the manhunt, a simple statement that the number of men involved in the hunt was TEN. Just that number, that I knew was clearly in reference to the past dreams on this subject.

Thank you for the latest update, Michal! The memories of the manhunt seem to be very important somehow if you dream of them in such clarity. If you could identify the place, maybe you could search for old newspaper articles. The fact that you know it was either Texas or Oklahoma at least narrows it down a bit; I'm keeping my fingers crossed, hoping you'll find out more soon!

This morning I was awakened by the wind outside my window. After I dropped off again, I had the following dream. It was the early 1930s. A hurricane or tornado is due. I'm a boy, maybe around 12. My mother is hurriedly storing all the household valuables out of harm's way. We are folding a lace table-covering (one of those old-fashioned round ones). I look out of the window. The sky is brown.


Minutes later, another dream from the same era. I'm giving our dog water. It is brown, with shaggy, curly hair, a mongrel the size of an Alsatian. It's drinking from a cream-coloured enamel bucket.


That's it. Short but significant; I've never had PL dreams or flashbacks about family members or pets.


The 'brown sky' my daughter Moni correctly identified as 'dust bowl'


Michal

That was a very interesting dream, Michal, I liked the little details, such as your mother storing away all the household valuables. Things like that make past-life memories so life-like and realistic. There must have been lots of dust storms in that era, I remember reading about that, too.


Could you see what your mother looked like, could you see her face? How nice that you've had a dream about a family member and pet at last! I hope you keep us updated!

I enjoyed this somehow very vivid memory/description, too. Something about it sounds so familiar - maybe the atmosphere/weather when a tornado or a big storm is coming.


Looking forward to more memory flashes!


Karoliina

Thanks for sharing - I enjoyed it too. I could perfectly picture the scenes

Significanct PL dream


A dream I had last week while staying at my parents over Easter...


It is autumn 1945, some time after VJ-Day.There's a big ball going on, soldiers, sailors, airmen, still in uniform, women, booze. I'm James Martin, coming down the wooden stairs onto the dancefloor, with a woman in my arms. Except... she's upside down.


James Martin's holding her around the waist, her legs are in the air, her bleached blonde head inches from the floor, her arms flailing around. She's petite, small and slim. James is smooching the inside of her thigh above her stocking top, as if he were kissing her lips. James's mates think this is extremely hilarious. He's showing off but is also quite aroused - my feeling was that the woman was a prostitute. The band is playing Ray Noble's Cherokee. James is dancing a quick-step, the woman still laughing and shreiking like she's on a roller coaster, legs kicking against thin air. They continue the entire dance like this, to the amusement of all around. They've never seen anything like this! What a showman! Enormous appetite for life and fun. The next tune the band play is Glen Miller's Stairway to the Stars*. The dream fades...


And then the dream shifts to James's childhood. He's sitting out on his parents' farm, on the veranda, it's long (I reckoned later around 40ft), the farmhouse is a single story. James is looking out toward the dusk sky. This is the same place I dreamt of in the tornado dream. West Kentucky? East Texas? Again, very realistic.


* I had both tunes in my head; the first I identified correctly in my dream, the second I thought at first was Skylark, but a few hours after waking I worked out that it was indeed Stairway to the Stars. Both songs are of the period.

Another very interesting dream, Michal, thank you for sharing! It's impressive how detailed that dream was, and you could even identify the music!


What I also found interesting is that the dream shifted to James Martin's childhood later, to the house from your other dream. Maybe your subconscious wanted to show you that the previous dream does indeed belong to your James Martin life.


Hope you have more dreams and flashes, it's always interesting to read about them!