I had a past life regression and saw my previous husband/lover, George. He was a bushwhacker during the Missouri/Kansas border war and Civil War. We were both foreigners to Missouri. He was from Canada but I'm not sure where I was from. He joined the South not for any Cause but for pure revenge. He was a hot-tempered, headstrong, aggressive man who would beat someone to death without batting an eye but with me, was all softness and kind words. About 6'0 in height, auburn hair, and the clearest most piercing blue eyes. I remember we had the most intense connection. We locked eyes the first time and it was done. We met up alone in the woods and I had brought food. We spoke for hours and got to know each other. I was new to the region, too, and felt alone and not respected for being smart and able. He felt my sadness and pain and could identify with feeling underappreciated. He felt embarrassed he could not read or write and that I was more intellectual than he was. I remember I told him don't be worried about what can be rectified, worry about the things you can't that really effect your life. We turned serious and sexual very quickly. He was very possessive of me. We tried to keep our relationship with each other quiet but it was impossible. People could just tell by looking at us. I was a difficult personality but somehow his energy subdued a lot of my energy. We have a Moon (me) conj Mars (him) Scorpio with an exact aspect. We also have a Pluto conj Neptune, which is a very karmic and psychic connection. I would willingly give, give, and give to him. My giving and my non-judgemental attitude of him relaxed him. We felt we were the only two people in the world we could open up to and be truly honest with each other. I remember we were laying under a tree together and I said something to him like, "You think you are are tough as iron but you're softer than a kitten's belly!" He laughed. With other men, he was quiet and introverted but could turn tyrannical and cruel. I used to tag along and stay nearby to them until it became too dangerous. We didn't have many disagreements but there was one time he was incredibly pissed off at me. He had gone off on a raid and I said I would come but he told me not to follow him. I didn't listen to him and went anyhow and after the incident he found me nearby and was screaming at me, "I told you to stay home! How can I take care of myself AND you, too!" I know he was upset to think that I could have been hurt. I was very angry at myself. Sometimes, the way I felt about him made me make stupid decisions. If I had died, it would have been terrible because I was newly pregnant. He was a very physical man. He was a doer not a thinker. I think he liked the bushwhacking lifestyle. He liked to be in control and strategize. He liked to kill. I was always shocked at what a dichotomy he was. Hardened killer outside but at home a soft, gentle lover to me; good and kind to his family (who also loved him blindly). He apologized to me once that he could not be 100% of the man he felt I needed him to be. He would ask me to undress to see me naked when I was pregnant and would touch and kiss my bulging belly. He would tell me how beautiful I looked with his child inside of me, that I was now completely his. And I liked to be his. For all his faults, disloyalty was not one of them. I don't think we would ever be together in any traditional sense. I think we were deeply fated. I needed him. I didn't need him in a superficial way, I needed him in the most deepest possible way. We could talk to each other with our eyes. We could feel each other's pain or joy over miles of distance. When he was shot and died, I felt it hundreds of miles away. I needed him like I needed oxygen - I felt like I had never lived until I met him. No one understood us, but most people knew we were significant. They called him the man of war but I was the diplomat. Where he ruffled feathers, I would try to make the peace. There was an incident I remember where two of his comrades were talking privately about killing George after he had a Mexican stand off with his leader for some silly joke (which he obviously didn't find very funny). I welcomed Bill into the home, fed him, had a laugh. He asked me how George and I fit together, that we seemed so different but, at any rate, George was lucky to have me. I walked Bill out and wished him well. Then I held his forearm and he looked at me. I said calmly and coldly, "If I hear you ever threaten to kill George again, I will kill you first." He apologized and said he was speaking out of anger. I didn't know what to think. Those two were in some deep power struggle, it wasn't the first time they swore to kill each other. I was just never there to witness it. When I lost George to the Federal Army, I fell into a deep depression and, ultimately, shot myself through the head. I cannot recall if I had even given birth. I never understood the longing I felt in my life for a man who I didn't remember until recently. No man could excite me or move me. I think my anger now is a bleed through of the anger and sadness I felt then that drove me to kill myself. Once, I thought of killing myself in this life so I could find him in spirit. That idea was just pure nonsense because it won't get me closer to him, so I just scrapped it. I experienced the most painful, consuming loneliness and longing from this remembering. I wept endlessly for weeks. I would wake up at night crying. I plan to go to his grave and try to find closure with this. I believe that we are living all our lifetimes simultaneously. What we perceive as past life may actually still be acted out on a different dimension of space/time. Only I figured out who I was in that other dimension. I speak to his picture at night and I can swear he hears me across this divide. I could be just hopeful that someday I will find him again. I don't think he's here in this life. And if he is, I pray he finds me soon.