Shared memory - Mother and Child

Discussion in 'Children's Cases - Archive' started by ssbjill, Sep 13, 2002.

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  1. ssbjill

    ssbjill New Member

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    I don’t know how to explain this whole event! Has anyone else dreamed about their child’s past life, and then had the child verify it? The dream was extremely vivid and emotionally powerful. I still, two years later, can’t explain the dream with out crying.

    Here’s what happened:

    I have five children, the oldest is now 16, and I have listened to all of them relate past life experiences to me. My youngest though, from the moment she was born, has shown signs of past life trauma in the form of extreme, unexplainable separation anxiety.

    We struggled through her infancy, which was extremely difficult. She literally would not allow me to leave the room without becoming hysterical. Another manifestation of her anxiety was her refusal to verbalize. She could hear and she understood, she even created her own very sophisticated sign language, she just wouldn’t talk. No cooing, no babbling, nothing.

    Each step has been a struggle with Jasmin. She has finally, by the age of three, began to realize a small measure of independence. I went back to work when she was two, and although she has been going to daycare now for more than a year, she still clings to me every morning until I promise that I will come back for her.

    A couple weeks ago I took my kids to the beach about 250 miles from home. We stayed in whats called a Yurt, a round, canvas and lattice, permanent tent-like structure at one of the State Parks. I say tent-like, because it was more like a cabin inside, with a kitchen, bathroom, electricity, beds, etc. Very neat place, but from the moment we got there Jasmin started to insist that she wanted to go home. By the time it was growing dark she was near hysteria and I knew that if I didn’t find some way to soothe her I would be forced to pack up and drive the 4 hours home so as not to disturb the other campers.

    Sitting by the campfire I pulled her into my arms, hugged her close and asked her if she was afraid. She immediately said yes. I asked her what she was afraid of, and this stumped her for a moment. Finally she said, “Lost”, a new word for her, and then “Me Lost. Mama lost.” I was stunned. Talking is a real struggle for Jasmin, but you could tell that she very much wanted me to understand her. The words just spilled from her as I questioned her.

    When I told her I was not lost, she clearly said, “Not You. Mama Lost”. She repeated this over and over. I reminded her that I was not lost, and that she was not lost, and that I would not leave her or lose her. She was still very agitated, so I asked her what happened. She said, that she was lost, and mama was lost, and then pantomimed drinking, and eating, and then finally blurted out, “Me died.” Where, was the first question that popped to my mind, and when I asked her, she pointed over to the porch of the “yurt” and said “There.”

    The hair stood straight up on my neck when I looked over to where she was pointing. It reminded me instantly of an extremely vivid dream I had when she was about a year old. In this dream I am in Africa and I see a mother carrying her son. He is about two or three, and I knew instantly that this was my Jasmin. There is a drought and famine, both are very sick and dehydrated. They are on their way to where they have been told they can get food and water. The woman’s husband and other children have already died, and she knows her only hope is to find help. She has been walking, carrying her son, for several days. She knows she is getting too weak to walk much farther, and hopes that they will reach help this day. Near the end of the day she comes to a fork in the road and meets a man there. He tells her that help is still about a half day walk down the right fork in the road, but she won’t reach it that day. He tells her that if she takes the left fork in the road she will come to a village after about 2 miles. In that village there is a church where she might find shelter for the night.

    The woman goes down the left path and comes to the village and the church, but it is deserted. Knowing she can’t go any farther this night, she lays her son on the porch of the church and goes in search of water. I don’t know what happened to her, but she never returned, and her son, too sick and dehydrated to get up, died sometime the next afternoon.

    When I glanced over my shoulder to see where Jasmin was pointing, the image of the church flashed clearly in my mind. Up until that point I had not seen a connection, but the buildings did look very similar. I remembered the dream, and it still makes me cry every time I try to explain it to someone, but at that moment I knew that it was more than a dream, and Jasmin was still afraid.

    I told Jasmin that it was okay. I promised her that I would not leave her, and that she never had to worry about losing me. She was immediately relieved and fell peacefully asleep.

    This event marked a major breakthrough for Jasmin. Finally able to voice her fears and get reassurance, she is less clingy and more independent and her vocabulary is exploding with new words everyday.

    This post and discussion is continued in the thread Shared memory - mother and child
     
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