Lifetimes in Germany

[Dieter]

When I was a kid, I had a fear of water.

Repeatedly I had this nightmare where I walk on a small pathway in a wood on a hillside very close to the house of my grandparents. The pathway is close to the border of the wood, beyond there is a grain field. In my dream, there is a lake instead. I struggle, I fall and I roll down the slope into the water, and I drown as I see the daylight breaking through the water. I wake up horrified, I open my eyes and I see the light of a breaking day coming through the curtains.

We often made one day trips to the mountains, The road would lead beside a lake for some kilometers. There was nothing but some posts of stone and one or two meters of field between the street and the lake. I was always terrified when we passed by the lake. I feared that our car could fall in the water and that we might drown. I sat on the backseat, unable to move, and I felt my guts being squeezed just of terror. It was horrible, and I never was able to tell anyone.

So far I found out that my last life finished as I drowned. I was about 30 years old. We were sitting in a Volkswagen, me and another woman on the backseat, two young men on the frontseats. It was about five o’clock in the morning, we were all pretty drunk.

The driver got confused with the lights of a crossing car or truck reflecting on the wet street and on the raindrops on the frontshield of our car. He lost control, the truck hit us and our car was thrown into a lake. We were all very badly hurt, and I was squeezed in the backseat. I could hardly breathe and finally I drowned. That must have been in the 1950’s.

 

[Dieter]

My name was Ludmilla

I remember quite a few moments of that past life. I had one younger sister and my parents were really great. My name was probably Ludmilla, "Milli".

One stormy night, I saw a hardly visible red point far away on the hill side getting stronger and stronger. A flash had set a house on fire. Suddenly I felt that soon the whole world would be on fire. I was unable to move, finally my dad came and hugged me. I then felt that he knew a lot more than I of all the terrible things to come. He was such a wise soul.

Years later, I had to face the burning city of Dresden (?). Again, I had lost my home. By then, my parents, my sister, my baby and his father had been killed. I was all alone. The only living person of my family was my aunt, but I didn’t know where she was.

So, as a child in my actual live, I used to study a map of Europe looking for the place where my aunt was. I told my parents about, but they would not understand.

The problem ist that I have a lot of memories, but I just can’t remember any names. The only thing I remember is “Pleinitz”, which doesn’t exist.




Dieter

 

[Dieter]

Validation!

I have been trying to find the places I lived at in my past life during WWII for quite a long time now.

Sadly, I can’t remember the names of the places too clearly. I remember something like Klattau or Krakau (I recall the view of the church from my room and I remember having lived on a street called “Engelsgasse” or “Eisengasse”), and a “Lake Pleinitz”. There is no such lake… Larry on this forum suggested that it might be Pleuovice and Pless. I will check out.

Last week, I found out that a place called Pleinitz really exists! (Search engine on Internet...) That was exciting! It’s a district of Vilshofen, a small town on the Danube river in Germany. I’ll have to visit the place some day. Not far from the czech town of Klattau, there’s a place called Planice There's a lake close to Planice.

Dieter

 

[Reynardine]

The Anabaptist "Kingdom" in Münster of 1535


A few days ago I was listening to a CD with songs from the Antwerps Liedboek (Antwerp Songbook) of 1544. One of the songs is called "Vanden storm van Munster", and it tells the story of the siege of Münster and the end of the Anabaptist "Kingdom" there in 1535.


As I was listening to the song, I suddenly saw myself as a fair-haired, 17-year-old boy behind a makeshift barricade on the marketplace in Münster. There was some rubble to my right and a dark-haired, bearded man in a kind of dark robe to my right, and there were about 50 to 60 people behind that barricade with me.


The attackers, Dutch mercenaries commanded by the former Bishop of Münster, were somewhere in front of us; I couldn't see them in that flashback, but I knew they were there.


There were stone splinters flying all around because the besiegers fired cannon into the city, and one of these splinters must have hit me - I suddenly felt a sharp, hot pain above and in my right eye. The pain and shock was too much for me, it seems, because I suddenly started screaming and throwing stones at the attackers.


The next thing I remember was being held from behind by the dark-haired man, who kept saying "It's alright, boy...it's alright". I think I had stopped screaming but was still struggling.


Then everything goes black for a while, and I find myself lying on my back in a grassy field that feels slightly wet, as if it had rained a short while before. Someone is holding me down while someone else washes my face and my eye - one of them must be the dark-haired man because I can hear his voice. I realize that I must have lost my right eye because it hurts so much, and the dark-haired man sounds concerned.


But I lose consciousness again, and the next time I wake up I'm lying in a two-wheeled cart with straw in the bottom, together with four or five others who are so badly injured that they're unable to walk. I have quite a high fever, and my eye and cheekbone hurt terribly. The thin blanket or old cloak I've been given isn't warm enough by far, but I'm too miserable to care. In fact, I wish I had died with the others...


I thought about that flashback for a long time (it was very intense, and my eye hurt for two days afterwards), and when I did that, one thought suddenly flashed through my mind: The dark-haired man must have been Heinrich Krechting, brother of one of the Anabaptist leaders! He and a handful of men made a desperate attempt to fight off the attackers when the city was stormed, and because of that and because he had known him well, the Bishop of Münster let Krechting and some of those that were with him go free. I must have been one of them, one of the lucky few that survived the massacre...


This post and discussion is continued in this thread

 

[Killerkop]

German Monk in the 1200's

I just had this regression, and I thought I would share it.

I was 15 years old, walking along a beach, ocean to my left, jagged cliff rocks to my right, I could see grass on top. The cliffs were perhaps 30 feet high. I had dark black hair, boyish features, even for my age. I was wearing a white shirt, like a v neck, but with twine on it to tighten it up, and white loose pants, no shoes. I got the feeling I was in Germany. It was 1235 or 1245. I’m leaning closer to 1245.

Then I went ahead in time. I was a monk, wearing orange robs, not bright orange, but I got the feeling they had faded over time. I was standing outside of a monastery. I think I was just out taking a walk. Enjoying the day.

Then I was in the center of town. One of my friends was being tried and executed for crimes, I don’t know what he did, but felt he had to be punished despite my feelings for him. I was standing to the back of the crowd, near the corner of a building, silently watching. There were probably around 70 people gathered to watch his execution. My name then came to me, something like Marcus O’Cellious and my friends name was Cervious Hampton, Although I’m not sure about my last name or his first name.

I was then send to the moment of my biggest decision in that life. I was choosing to leave home, leave behind my friends and family to go to Tibet and become a monk. I felt I was 21. And my family was having a hard time with my decision to go, but knew my life was but mine to weave.

I was then sitting inside a monastery meditating. I got a couple of different messages. That the trial of life was to live upon this world and learn not to dwell on the negative earth reactions that most people have. But to let go of hate, anger, hostility, fear and become a higher being. That no one was better than anyone else, we are all equal. Although some are more advanced than others, you shall not look down upon your fellow man. Because we all are reaching for the same goals, and you should always have a helping hand towards others, in reaching this goal.

I was then later in my life, with a student. I was amazed at his progress, almost envied him. It seemed that his ability almost rivaled my own. Yet I was entirely happy that I had helped him in that progression, despite how big a part I played in it. I saw in his eyes an undying respect for me, although he did have a questioning attitude, I knew if there was something I asked of him, he would go out of his way to achieve it.

Then in reflection back upon my life, I realized that I was interested in whether or not my teachers and I were correct. I resented the fact that I never indulged in any of the worldly pleasures, that I had always stayed on course as I had been instructed. I was happy, I was content with my life. But I couldn’t say I didn’t wonder on what it would have been like to have been able to do things as most men had in their lives.

I got the image of the monastery I was at being on top of a small mountain, but you could see the ocean and the monastery on the moutain from the vantage point I was at. I dont know if this was me still in Tibet, or if I was "transfered" somewhere else after my training.

 

[Virpi]

Abandoned child

I did a past life regression with my Reiki teacher few years back .It was the most amazing thing. I was not hypnotized or anything. There was some breathing technique first and then I went like down the stairs, in my mind, and found a door to one of my past lives.

I was in Germany in the 15th century, totally abandoned at the age of 3 or 4. I was like living in the streets until somebody came and took me in like a servant or something. I stayed in that place until I died.
My father was a priest, who denied my excistance, and my mom died from pneumonia or something. I recognised my father to be my today' s son and my mother was in my life again. This time as my daughter and this time she died 3 years old.

Apparently I have been to Germany again during the ww2 but I have not done another regression therapy.Most likely I must have been a man, because even the idea of me in a dress and heels makes me totally out of this place.

 

[Ailish]

Little Anabaptist Girl in Germany


I have only shared with the innermost details of this life with one other person. It is interesting to note — that I recognize several people from that lifetime in my present one – and the revelations were somewhat startling -- at least to me!


I will share a few memories and validations, from what I believe are Anabaptist times.


Quotes from my journal are in italics throughout:


First I found myself back in that little wooden house in Germany. I was small -- perhaps 5 years old and I was sitting in the corner. I was in someone's lap. The woman who held me was pregnant -- I could feel the bulge of her stomach, and had to sit sideways to avoid the bump. I knew -- I must be quiet. The old man was speaking and there was silence in the house. There were several families that lived there -- in the same house -- and it was mainly comprised of women and children. The older man seemed to be in charge of the house and younger men who came and went at all hours. All of the men had a lot of facial hair -- long beards, hats and very simple clothes. The women and children were also dressed simply -- all had head coverings and dark clothing.

"The men came in dark Anabaptist clothes and beards. Their wives wearing black head coverings." p. 289
"The Anabaptists practiced wearing loose-fitting, solid-colored clothes according to the manner of the land. Men usually wore knee pants tied around the waist with a sash. Women and girls, even little girls, wore head coverings." p.229-230

Then we were running through the forest. The woman was holding my hand. There were several other people there running with us. The woman stopped and put her hands on her pregnant stomach. Someone said "Johanna." She was panting -- and seemed to be in pain. She sat on the ground. I was holding onto the dress on her back -- it was gripped in my hand. It was dark but there were flames of light in the trees and voices. Hands were grabbing me.


Now, I naturally assumed my mother’s name was Johanna – even though it didn't really "feel" right. When I wrote about her in my journal -- I used "Johanna (if that was her name)" In fact, she was calling out for my father, who had already been killed months before. His name was “Johann.” Later on -- I found out her name was actually Ilsa.


A tiny little wooden box. Just my parents together in the house. My mother is making clothes for the baby brother. My father is giving that baby a bath in the wooden tub. All of him is blue. I don't understand. I am confused. My father asks me to wash the baby's feet. The water is cold -- I pull my hand back. My mother says "Johann," and has tears steaming from her eyes. She is sewing and sewing and not looking at my father. The "Will of God" echoes in my ears.


My mother and I ended up – in some sort of jail. She was extremely pregnant, without a husband, and trying to keep me – her five-year-old, safe from the men who had killed her husband – simply for his religious beliefs.


We were in a dark place. There was some sort of straw on the floor. Men were coming in and taking people out. The woman picked me up and was carrying me out. The sunlight hurt my eyes. There were people gathered all around. A wooden block was in the middle of them. They took me from the woman's arms -- she was screaming. Two men were holding her. The were speaking about God. She was shaking her head and screaming, still holding her stomach -- reaching one hand out in front of her.


A man was holding me around the middle, my left arm pinned under him. Another man put my right hand on the wooden block. A third man was standing above -- he had an axe of sorts -- and he swung it down, cutting off the fingertips of my right hand.


I found validation in that memory:

Deidrich von Schonberg had many Anabaptists beheaded, drowned and killed in other ways at Alzey. His men searched for them, dragging them from houses and leading them like sheep to slaughter in the city square. Of the believers not one recanted. They went joyfully to their deaths. While some were being drowned and beheaded the rest sang while they waited their turn. A few of them who they did not want to kill right away they tortured by chopping off their fingers, by burning crosses into their foreheads and through many other evil means. -- p. 204

My death, also follows the above pattern – it came soon after the incident with the fingers, although I am not too certain about the passage of time, it couldn’t have been that long.


Then we were outside at night. Men with torches were all around. Again -- they took me from my mother's arms. The man who was holding me -- was the pitt-faced man I saw before. My mama screamed my name "Christina." They took her and stood her on a platform -- a noose around her neck. She was still pregnant -- her belly was very large now. She had both arms wrapped around her stomach. She was crying. The men put me in the large tub of water. They were holding me under. I couldn't breathe. I felt -- it was a baptism of sorts -- but it went horribly wrong.


My mother is screaming. I am in the water. I am cold. My hand hurts. I cannot breathe. Each time they bring me to the surface I hear her more clearly. She is calling my name. I am choking. They hold me above the water for a few moments and I look her in the eyes. She is cradling her stomach, her arms around her unborn child, singing. I feel my mother's love and as I call her name "Mama", they push me under the water again.


Aili


This post and discussion is continued in the thread Germany in the 1550's

 

[~ Taylor ~]

Missing Bavaria


I’m lonesome for Bavaria. The memory of forested hills, the snows in winter, the beautiful vistas with mountains and sparkling lakes pull at my heart. I’ve never been to Bavaria in this life but I’m entranced by the pictures of it. I know I’ve lived there several lifetimes.


I had a flashback once where I was a young lady and I lived in Bavaria. I wore my blond hair braided with the braids circled around each side of my head. My father was a craftsman and one day he brought a stranger home with him – with dark olive skin. This stranger and I fell in love and married and we had a child. And then my husband left on a trip to visit his home country. I didn’t wish to go with him. He said he’d return, but he never did.


In another lifetime I was a young girl entering a convent preparing to be a nun. I was later transferred to England and I remember the heartsickness I felt at leaving my beloved Bavarian homeland.