• Thank you to Carol and Steve Bowman, the forum owners, for our new upgrade!

Past Lives in WW II

Status
Not open for further replies.
Hi everyone :)

I've just joined the forum, but I have been visiting this site for some time. I felt moved to post because one of the only past lives I can remember was during the era of the Nazi regime.

Here is what I remember:

I was standing in a long line of people in the basement of a building; the lighting was very poor and there was a stuffy smell in the air. The people were dressed in browns and other dark colors, and both the men and women wore hats. I stood with my family, but only my mother really stuck out in my dreams. She acted very flighty. She wrung her hands and was speaking to herself, which is very different from how my mother acts in real life. In the dream I am younger, about twelve or thirteen years old, but my mother’s behavior doesn’t worry me or frighten me.

The people are waiting to reach a counter where a man with black hair is sitting with a sheet of paper. I can still see his face, it’s very vivid in my mind: he was clean-shaven and pale, with very wide eyes. There was also another man behind him stacking old coffee cans into a cupboard. He was older and had straggly grey hair and glasses.

The black-haired man at the front counter was speaking in a low voice to a tall man in a cap. He asked him what party he supported, and the man in the cap responded, “I am of the Democratic Party.” The black-haired man shook his head and waved him away from the counter, saying “We cannot take you, then.”

Finally, it is our turn, and my mother is asked all the questions. I realize we are being transported out of the country as refugees, but I am separated from my family when the man with the grey hair and the glasses looks up to me and beckons me behind the counter. I don’t know what that is about, but soon afterwards the dream ended.

Although it wasn't as fascinating a memory as some of the other posters on here, the dream really affected me. I went online in search of what the dream could mean, and I found this information:

Refugees applying for visas were put through a maze of forms and regulations, and recalled being asked such questions as, "Are you Jewish by race and faith? Would you call yourself a socialist? Did the Social Democratic Party want to change the government?"

It's not solid proof, but I do feel a connection with that time period.
 
Salamandra said:
My only past live I know for facts is being an old German gentleman in the time of WWII. I didn´t like what Nazi´s were doing to the Jews so I and other old German man (he is now my twinsister) started to hide Jewish families at our home. We were busted and sent to one of the camps for Jewish people. I know I died there but I´m not sure how it happened.
Click to expand...

Few days ago my twinsister told me that she did know how she died in the camps. She told me she wasn´t going to tell me because she wanted me to check it out too and see whether I had the same feeling as she did.

Last night in a meditation I experienced something. I was in the camp (I don´t know the name) and warders were often pretty nice to me. I felt like sometimes I was playing chess with the warders, but sometimes they were very mean and nasty and told me I was traitor for hiding all the Jews at my home. One night I decided to escape and tried to do it. I didn´t get away because I was apprehended and shot in the back - in the middle of it, near the bottom of the lungs.

I called my sister and asked her how she died there without telling her about my experiences. She told me: "I think I was shot in the right side of my body".
 
Life in WWII?

Hi everyone,

Thought I would share this here. What do you guys think?

In sequential dreams over a relatively short period of time, I saw myself as a Luftwaffe pilot by the name Karl Hess or Heiss.

1st dream: I am walking into a "bar" in an army camp wearing airforce jacket and tucking into the jacket the identification tag on a chain around my neck, as it had gotten caught on the jacket's zipper. Inside the bar I meet with an attractive, dark haired woman sitting at the bar upon a stool. Conversation was about the fact that she was pregnant and affirming I was the father of the child. My feelings toward her were one of superiority and contempt, either because she was of a lower class or perhaps Jewish (though I have a feeling she was probably French). In the dream I recognized her, though her physical appearance was different, as my first wife in present life.

2nd dream: Driving black sedan car with same lady at the passenger's seat. Dreary weather in European city.

3rd dream: I am passing in front of a shop that has a sign where it is written: "Jewish Jewels". Enter the shop, which has mostly furniture and home utensils and decoration items. Sit upon a chair and look at them. Have the impression that items for sale were taken from Jewish families.

4th dream: I am flying a small plane above a farm in what seems to be my first "solo flight". I am waving at a couple below whom I feel are my parents. Dream goes to my getting out of the plane after landing, feeling the adrenaline and excitement of my first solo flight and the warm sun in my face. My parents are proud of me and come and hug me.

5th dream: I am sitting at a table wearing uniform coat. Dark haired woman is being brought into the room by two soldiers. She is badly battered and bruised and I am thinking: "Now she will understand why I had to do this to her". Elder man follows woman and soldiers into the room. I sense he is her father and recognize him as my first wife's second husband (married to him after we divorced).

6th dream: I am young and strong and entering a building. My physical appearance is completely different from the one I have now. Dream cuts to myself and another soldier digging a shallow grave to bury dark haired woman whom I sense I have killed.

7th dream: I am in a balloon above a field. Balloon lands near a farm. The farm owner is an officer. Some soldiers are playing a game of football. Farm owner/officer introduces me to others as Karl Hess (or Heiss).

8th dream: I am about to take part in a meeting at a house at the top of a hill. I am concerned that the others will know of my intention to flee. I have money in my briefcase and a pistol. I plan to escape after the meeting, but am worried that others might already know of my intentions. After the meeting, I go to my car (the same black sedan of my previous dream). The hood is lifted and some soldiers are standing around the car. I enquire as to what is happening and one soldier says there is a problem with the engine. I realize they know of my intentions so begin to walk down the hill. The soldiers order me to stop. From inside my briefcase I pull out the Lugger pistol and begin firing at them and running down the hill. The soldiers come after me. I run into a garage where there are two gasoline pumps and hide behind one of them, but the soldiers see me and open fire. Gasoline begins to leak on the floor from one of the pumps. Soldier at the entrance removes pin from a grenade and throws it inside. I run for cover and dive to the ground, knowing full well that my life is about to end, as the grenade and the leaking gasoline are about to blow. Wake up panting and grasping for air...
 
Concentration camp dream

Between the ages of 2 and 3, I had recurring nightmares of being in a prison camp. There was mud everywhere and barbed-wire fences surrounded the area. There were long wooden barracks.

Sometimes, I'd dream of being on a conveyor belt that threw me into a blazing furnace.

I suspect that all of this was a past life in a concentration camp. Perhaps my body was dead on the conveyor belt and my soul hovered around it as it fell into the furnace.

At some point, the dreams simply stopped (although I had a recurrence a few years ago when I was very ill).
 
tattooed numbers from holocaust

I was wondering if anybody who has experienced memories of being in a death-camp during the holocaust remembers the number tattooed on their arm.
During a regression I had recently, i remembered being a jewish student in Austria and being deported to a camp. I have not yet remembered anything past getting on the train to go, but I have always had such a thing for numbers and there are a few numbers that have always resonated with me.
If I survived in a camp long enough, I know i would have had one of those numbers. I wonder, is it possible to find some sort of record using that number if i am able to remember it? I know my first name was marcus in that life, but the other details haven't surfaced yet.
 
The only past life I know for sure was during the Shoah, though I believe I survived and died in 1953, in childbirth. The past life dreams returned on the penultimate day of 1994, shortly after I'd turned 15, and almost immediately I just instinctively knew they were past life dreams and related to the nightly nightmares I'd had when I was 3 years old. Based on the dreams, self-regressions, and memory flashes, I've remembered quite a few things. For quite some time, however, I haven't dreamt about that life nearly as often as I did when I was in my mid and late teens, almost as though I've more or less made peace with what happened before, as much as I'd love to know and to verify some of the other things that happened.
 
I remember

I remember the beginning years of the holocaust. I was born around 1920. I am unsure of my birth country. I grew up in a middle class family with an Orthodox faith. I married at the age of 18 and had a beautiful son with curly hair. A group of women that included my sister, me and our children were confined to a tiny concentration camp that was destroyed upon our departure. I cannot remember it's name. In or around 1939 we were deported to Ravensbrook. My most vivid memory is getting off the train and standing on the platform. My sister and I were together and I was holding her baby and my son's hand. He was 3 or 4 years old. My son was wearing a brown wool coat (and the yellow star-ed armband) with a buckled waistband, knee britches, white shirt and his little brown cap. Before I knew what happened, someone snatched the baby out of my arms and grabbed my son and took off with them. I remember screaming and being very hysterical. My sister and other women held me back as I feel to the ground. I never saw either child again. I gave up. I remember standing, staring out the fence at the area around me. It wasn't a barbed wire fence, more like rabbit wire (large square openings). I remember thinking "My son is out there somewhere. No, no he's not." Someone took a picture of me standing at that fence. It is with my back to the camera.

At this point we were all hungry but had not really encountered starvation yet. At the first "camp" we received 3 very nasty meals (soup) a day and were treated somewhat decently. Not so in Ravensbrook. We were feed only one cup of soup per day and it wasn't really anything but heated water. I can remember thinking "so this is how someone loses weight. No thank you...I'd rather be fat." I became ill. I believe it was Typhus. I thanked God I was so ill. I wanted to die. I had no reason to go on. My sister and the other women tried to encourage me to live. I gave up. I gave in to death. I died in Ravensbrook in 1940.

I do not know what happened to my husband. I cannot even remember having a husband. I try to remember but because it causes severe headaches, I think it is too painful to remember. Nor do I have any idea what my name was. I can remember it was a beautiful name like Teririsa (pronounced Terry-risa) or something like that. My sister was older than I and I don't remember our parents.

I have searched for the photo of me at that fence for years. It's an obsession. It is MY proof. None of the pictures of Ravensbrook show the type of fence I mention but that fence was there.
 
WWII memory or just a dream?

A couple nights ago, I dreamed that I was a young girl (teens or *maybe* early 20's) to a somewhat prominent German family. When the dream started, I was outside. There was snow on the ground and covered trucks were "roaming" and loading up people. I was a couple blocks away from the house [where I worked] and there was a snow-covered grave yard between myself and the house in which I worked. I got some papers from some man man and I ran to the house as quickly as I could. I gave the papers to the woman I worked for. The papers were informational on various people. I told the woman that all of the papers weren't there, but that I knew "he" (a uniformed man who was standing ... the woman was sitting) was waiting for them and that while they were reviewing the first papers, I would return to retrieve the rest. I was under the impression that the uniformed man was looking for a servant (maybe that's what I had been told?). On my way back out to the first man, I went through my room which was on the back side of the kitchen (I find it interesting that there was an outside door off of my room). While passing through my room, I was thinking that I had to stay on the woman's good side because there was suspicion that I had Jewish heritage but as long as I "served her well," she may not turn me in. Then I thought that I was fortunate that I had lighter hair (which was dark blonde). I had just stepped back outside into the snow and was thankful that it wasn't a "cold snow" when I awoke.

As an aside, I've posted about it before, but I'll just recap, that a year or so ago, I had a "vision" (for lack of a better word) of being in a concentration camp. I also visited a woman who does hypnotherapy, psychic work, etc. and I didn't tell her why I was there and the first words out of her mouth were that I died in a concentration camp as a young girl. We then tried hypnosis, but I was unable to. I will say that in my dream, although I was young, I *think* I was older than she had indicated (8-10). It's hard for me to say, though, because during *this* life, I've always felt the same age "inside" regardless of my bodily age. Also, I didn't exactly look at myself in my dream. I just know that my life's experiences were still minimal (i.e., not yet married, no children, etc.).

I have some conflicts with my PL memories because I also have memories of living through the end of the 19th century up through at *least* the 30's and probably the 40's, most likely in the U.S. and as an adult, so I don't know what to think.
 
"Now I'm not certain -- but I believe at that time you were required to carry your papers with you wherever you went."

Yes you were meant to, it was a very serious offence not to do so. Jews in particular would be very harshly treated for not having papers with them. Being shot on the spot was an option.

Good luck with your research Moondansyr :)
 
Hammy said:
Yes you were meant to, it was a very serious offence not to do so. Jews in particular would be very harshly treated for not having papers with them. Being shot on the spot was an option.
Click to expand...

Yikes!!! How awful!!

I honestly had absolutely *no* idea that everyone was required to carry around papers!! This really makes me wonder about the validity of the dream!!

Ailish! Thanks for your detailed response. Yes, Schindler's List was the movie. I can't say what it is, exactly, but I'm still not ready to watch it. I'm really afraid, I guess, which is unusual for me. I typically want to "know everything" - - but I think there's a point of finding out something so absolutely gruesome that I may not want to know ... but after I find out, there's no turning back. On the other hand, if I am having real memories, is there a reason I need to remember? *sighs*

As for my dress ... I will work at emailing or posting a pic of it tomorrow ... I'm tired now.
 
Nora's flashes

norabrindle said:
my memories are only flashes. i began having them when i was pregnant with my first child. she is 26 years old now. i thought i was having premonitions of the end of time, but i came to realize it was flashes of memory of nazi solders knocking on my door in the darkness of night and taking my husband and children away form me. the children were screaming and crying and so was i. we were reaching and trying to hold on to each other and were torn apart. this has been extremely difficult to write down. i have never told anyone of this. i nearly lost my mind when my children were growing up. this replayed over and over in my mind, day and night, and i was afraid to tell anyone.
Click to expand...

Did you believe in reincarnation when you had the flashes? Your experiences may be related to Leora Rosner's in this article about her daugher: The Case of Shai Simpson-Baikie

Titus
 
WWII Lifetime

Because I'm lazy, the account itself has been taken from my blog that takes record of my past life experiences. My actual visualization during the self-regression was shoddy at best, at least in my previous experiences, but it was a good one. I got a chance to really think about the surroundings afterward and put the pieces together.

I found myself to emotionally disconnected through most of the process. The only time I felt a glimmer of emotion was during the hospital sequence and perhaps during the writing of the letter. Either way, feel free to read on and tell me what you think about all this.

Note: This was my first self-regression.

I first looked down at my feet and my inner voice screamed the name of my footwear. Jackboots. My eyes moved further and further up, taking in my medium stature and finely-pressed dress uniform. I seemed to be decorated, though not uncommonly so for the time. I was not a man of any rank that would matter much off the field. Hauptmann (Captain), I guessed.

My eyes were a shade of deep blue I have never seen. They weren't dark per se, but very much so in comparison to most people possessing blue eyes. My hair was greased back as best it could be and had a dark brown color to it, almost mousy I suppose. My features themselves were nothing special, though typically Germanic in nature. I wasn't that bad looking, if I do say so myself.

In this first sequence, I found myself at Kehlsteinhaus in Berchtesgaden, Hitler's personal getaway in the Alps. It was obvious that I was receiving another decoration, most likely the Knight's Cross. I remember thinking of how nice the room was that I was in. Polished wood as far as the eye could see with a painting somewhere that I couldn't place. Nonetheless, I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

What truly caught my attention was Hitler himself. He shook my hand with a firm grip and smiled at me which in itself had little emotional effect. It was the blue of his eyes that drew me, a statement that many who met Hitler would agree on. He seemed warm enough, a nice man over all. I held no animosity toward him whatsoever. Then again, he was my leader.

The sequence broke and I found myself on the front. My immediate thought was Russia, though no winter gear was present. Czechoslovakia perhaps or somewhere near to that? I sat with a small fire built in the company of a few men as I smoked a cigarette, my gaze never quite leaving the flames.

This sequence broke quickly and I was in an office of sorts writing a letter. I inquired to my inner voice about the person to whom I was writing. My inner voice replied with the name Maria. I gathered that she was Italian in origin and I had apparently met her while serving there. She was a raven-haired goddess in my eyes and I was determined to keep my promise to write.

The next image brought me was one of a collapsing building in the snow. If I was not in the heart of Russia before, I was then. I heard a cry that seemed to be my own. My current mind, and perhaps my past one, thought for sure that I was dead. However, that was not to be.

I saw myself in a hospital--if one could call it that--growling and seeming to be in a tremendous amount of pain. Apparently someone decided not to have morphine on hand. My gaze at first rested on my soiled face and clothing, but it panned downward and I saw what seemed to be some sort of saw hacking into my leg. I was too badly wounded to keep it. I thought that perhaps the other one might be saved, but I was not that fortunate.

I found myself sitting in a wheelchair with no particular setting in the background, white bandages wrapped tightly around the nubs that remained. It seemed that my legs were severed just above the knee. I was visibly shaken, though not simply because I lost both my legs. I knew that I would never be able to provide for Maria on my own. This problem didn't entirely matter in the end, though. She married someone else while I was gone. Bitterness could not describe the feeling.

The final image I received during all this was of myself in later years. The exact age is unknown. I probed my inner voice for answers as to what had befallen me, receiving a heart in return. My guess is a heart attack or some such disease involving the chest area. I didn't see myself die outright, but it was imminent when the images faded with a half hour left on the Buhlman mp3.
 
Update

Just a little update for anyone keeping up with this thread, if any. While perusing this forum, a conscious memory came to me. The following is an excerpt from my blog.

I'm not entirely sure of the time, but it seems to be somewhere between the daylight and sunrise hours. Again I take the form of Johann in his dress uniform. I believe he was due to go to the Kehlsteinhaus on that particular day. I was having one last meeting with my dear Maria* before I left.

She looked absolutely amazing that morning, not that she didn't every time I saw her. Her black hair was done up in some fashion, but whatever it was, her preparation of it was loose and careless. Her clothing was pleasant, but obviously thrown together. This leads me to believe that I might have woken her up.

During our visit, it seems somewhat difficult to communicate. Her knowledge of German is limited and I have no knowledge at all of Italian. Nonetheless, I take the opportunity to give her a gift. I give her the gift of a small sprig of Edelweiss, a small white flower that enjoys growing on the Alps. The flower is often worn by German soldiers because it is a sign of strength and resilience.

Maria takes this gift and nods her approval. I believe she answered that she would put it in a book to press it until I returned. I am led to believe that this is my last visit with her.

* - I am inclined to believe that "Maria" may not in fact be this woman's name. I only know that it may be equally generic or a name she gave me that she prefers, but was not born with.
Click to expand...
 
Hi Jagdflieger,

I too, am finding your story fascinating. :) Your memories seem to be shown to you with great clarity and detail. Sometimes it's the smallest of details that prove to be the most important -- in personal validation. ;)

The description of your relationship with Maria captivated me. I thought it was sweet when you gave her the sprig of Edelweiss (I had no idea that was a sign of strength and resilience!)

I very much felt Johann's anguish -- at losing his legs, and then his beloved.

Do you know anything about Johann's early years? His family, or where he grew up?

I'd love to hear more of the story!

Aili
 
HI Jagdflieger,

Your story has tugged at our heart strings, and when I read that you were shown a heart - something else occurred to me. Have you thought perhaps - you died of a broken heart? Not just the love you had for Maria, but how as a young solider - you must have been disillusioned about life? So many possibilities cut short?

You also stated
I found myself to emotionally disconnected through most of the process.
Click to expand...
I know that during my divorce (this life time) I often felt emotionally disconnected. Perhaps your healing in this life - will be a healing of the heart. Perhaps your experience is just the beginning.

I am very curious about your emotional response, feelings, and thoughts during the experience and after. I do hope you share more on the forum.
 
Aili: I have the feeling that Johann was born in Weissach or the general vicinity, given that the area seemed familiar to me while reading a biography I own. I know that he had an interest in aviation, but felt he didn't have the know-how or the small frame to fit into one of those aircraft. This filtered through to my current life, as you can see. Not just from my username meaning "fighter pilot," but because I'm making plans to go into the Air Force. However, I still can't bring myself to be a pilot.

I know little else about his childhood other than he had a very strong admiration of Erich Hartmann, an admiration that has filtered over to me as well. This would not be entirely uncommon given that he was the most successful pilot WWII had ever seen. He was a hero and a true gentleman on top of all that. But I don't want to ramble forever.

I also know that he probably belonged to a glider club, so he may have had at least a taste of what flying is like.

Deborah: I considered it, but I don't believe that was the main cause of death, at least not in this stage. If Johann had truly died that way, he would have probably been considerably younger. Though his age in the vision could have been metaphoric. I'll have to try another self-regression and see how it works that way.

I am fairly sure that this is just the beginning. There is a large part of me that wants to find her. Whether or not I will is another story altogether. But that part of me just wants to know what happened. If his legs were the problem, him overall, etc. I find it quite unsettling.

Regardless, I'm very glad that you two visited the thread. It's hard to explain, but I suppose it makes me feel closer to the conclusion knowing that the two of you were in Italy. I may still have a very long journey yet to go, but it still makes things feel more at ease, if only temporarily.
 
Okay - - I've had a few more things break through. Some, I'm not ready to post publicly. But here is what I got with a meditation this morning:

It started with me in Germany, in a rural valley area, somewhere around Mainz, Wiesbaden, Rheinland-Pfalz - - I'm not sure, but it was that "general" vicinity. I'll have to look at some pictures to see if I can find the area. I was standing in front of a thatched-roof farm house (were those at all common in Germany?). Beside me were fields, rough-hewn fences, a couple out-buildings, some grazing animals, and other farm-type homes nearby. There was a golden "glow" around me, so I don't know if it was morning, sunset, autumn ... I dunno ... hmmm ... it felt like morning ... seems there was dew on the ground. I saw a steeple off in the distance to the north. I then moved through the door and was in a kitchen area. I think I was just an observer, not a participant, as there was a woman who seemed to be going about her usual routine without noticing me. She had on an apron, her ashen blonde hair was pulled back into a smallish bun/tuft at the base of her neck. I'm sure she had some gray, but it blended. I wouldn't say she was very old (*maybe* 50). She was fairly thin (but not skinny) and average height. The kitchen was completely rustic - - built for use, not looks. I moved into another area of the house and looked at myself in a mirror and saw myself as a young girl of maybe 10-12, blonde, and with pigtails. I got the date of September 19th, 1924, although I don't know why, I never really trusts dates that I hear. *shrugs* I moved back out to the kitchen and then the woman embraced me in a warm hug and called me by name, but I'm not going to post the name, as I don't feel strongly about it. She said something to me, but I didn't understand it. :(

That's it.
 
Second Self-Regression

I did a little self-regressing tonight and came up with a wealth of information. Nothing particular, mostly emotional events. I apologize in advance to anyone who reads the rest of this post. It's quite long because it is directly from my blog.

The visions opened at a time when the battle was ceased and the weather was fine. Maria and I were a safe distance from her home, embracing each other as all young couples would. The image of her face was vague, but somehow clear in the same instance. To me, she could have been an Italian movie star. Her hair was kept away from her face with a red handkerchief of sorts wrapped around her head. Her skin had a medium tan to it from being out in the sun almost every day.

We kissed one another repeatedly in this vision, a sign of affection that stirred a great deal of sadness in me. It continues to do so as I type this. We were interrupted by a comrade of mine who was presumably in my platoon. "Müller!" he called. "Komm! Wir müssen gehen!" ("Come! We must go!") I kissed her yet again before running off, promising to come back as soon as I could.

The second sequence was one that brought out a slight amount of amusement, though the sadness remained. This time we were in a night so dark that I could barely see. From what I could see, we were sitting on Maria's bed about to do something "immoral" to one another. She was giggling in amusement a large part of the time. I remember being in at least a partial state of undress before her father swung the door open violently. I didn't wait to jump out of her bedroom window as her father bellowed in Italian. I couldn't understand a word, but I knew it wasn't pretty.

The third sequence involved acquiring the Edelweiss for Maria. I was with another man who I believe to be the man who called me before. The entire conversation was in German, but it went something like this:

"Why are we here?"

"I'm getting some Edelweiss for Maria."

"Are you crazy? She's an Italian girl! You're never going to see her again when we leave."

"Stop whining. This will only take a second."

This scene faded to the time when my heart was broken. I had just received the letter that Maria was marrying someone else. I recall growling and tossing the letter into the fire. Someone in the group asked me what was wrong and I went on a tirade. "Is she stupid?!" I yelled. "She could have had me and she's marrying Giovanni or Guiseppe, whatever his name is!" I was inconsolable as I lit a cigarette with shaking fingers.

Next I found myself at a hospital in Germany while I recuperated. I was covered in a white sheet as I stared at the red handkerchief Maria wore. She had apparently sent it to me at some point, but I cannot recall when it arrived. I was twisting it in my callused hands, rolling in self-pity and all sorts of negative emotions.

The final scene involved a woman that cared for me in my home after the war. Her name was Irmgard, I believe. I was quite friendly with her, though I truly had no desire to be in a relationship. A small photo of Maria was kept on what seemed to be a mantle or perhaps a shelf. Regardless, I got the feeling that I married this woman and had three children. It was a loveless marriage, however, as I never quite got over the girl I left in Italy.
Click to expand...
 
Jagdflieger,

Thank you for sharing your latest regression with us. The details you get -- are amazing. :)

Are you fluent in German in your current life, or is it just something you hear during your regression -- and intuitively understand? I ask -- because I pick up bits and pieces of various languages when meditating -- and I'm always curious if others do, too. ;)

I am really enjoying your story -- please keep us posted! I'd love to find out if Johann ended up with Irmgard for sure -- and more about their family life.

Aili
 
I'm not fluent in this life by any means, but I do know some of it from classes and things I've picked up over the years. When I don't understand, it sometimes turns to English in my head. Other times it turns into something more simple that I would. It all depends.

I'll keep everyone posted, so no worries about that. I want to see what happens just as much as everyone else stopping by.
 
3rd Self-Regression

Here are the results of my third self-regression fresh out of my blog, for anyone interested in people other than Maria. It actually doesn't revolve around her for once! I again apologize for the length.

My first vision took place in my and my wife's bedroom. She sat on the right side of the bed, the side furthest from the window, in a soft white nightgown with her hair not yet undone. She said softly in German, "Johann, come to bed."

I was still sitting in my wheelchair, vehement at staying in my position. I simply sat there with my hands in my lap. "No."

The frustration was visible on Irmgard's face, though she said nothing afterward, simply--and rather angrily--pulling the sheets around her.

As I watched, the phrase "Where is my Maria?" kept popping into my head. It was as if I had lost her in a cloud of smoke, my hands outstretched to feel through the heavy layer of gray.

At the second sequence, I couldn't help but consciously smile. It was my dear Karlotte. She stood there with a medium blue ribbon wrapped around her wavy brown hair, a color that matched her dress perfectly. She had a plate of food in her hand as she kneeled down next to my wheelchair. "Daddy," she began. "You're hungry, aren't you?"

With a sigh, I shook my head. "I can't eat right now..."

"Daddy, you have to eat," she insisted. "You need your strength."

Somehow, this conversation erupted into an argument where she yelled, "I know you're thinking about Maria!" This struck me quite off-guard as I had never told her about the woman I left. Apparently, Irmgard had told her. Karlotte then admitted that she knew I didn't love her mother. This upset me beyond reason, but the girl comforted me, somehow realizing the pain that I was in.

The sequence ended abruptly when my daughter sat in my lap with her arms wrapped loosely around my neck. "I love you, Daddy."

When I asked my inner voice about my other two children, I drew a blank. I gather that the boy's name may be Helmut. My second daughter has something ending with "ina." Nonetheless, the other two are oddly disconnected, somehow estranged and kept from my memory.

I have reason to believe that my Karlotte ended up in the medical field as her mother did. What exactly her profession was escapes me, though I have reason to believe she somehow treated war veterans.

My only memory of Maria in this regression was a series of events strung together, more for emphasis of affection than an event that needed remembering. It seemed that I'd told her I loved her more often than the protagonist in the end of a sappy romance movie. I also recall saying "Heirate mich" or "Marry me." She played all of this off with amusement, though she did humor me more often than not.
Click to expand...
 
Ex-Nazi

Hi, Im brand new, so please forgive me if this is too wordy.
I have no knowledge of this, but the proofs are now too many to keep looking past and Im wondering if Im just someohow culturally influenced into believing this is possible or is it true. I just dont know. I also dont know if its usual to remember being somene who was technically "bad" but not to fel bad about. Like it was beyond me, somehow.

Ill try to keep this limited:

I was raised Christian and lost it somewhere. But my parents werent at all strict. We almost never went to church, for instance. Im not a mystic and you could call me skeptic about the whole religion thing, I guess.

Since early childhood, Ive been drawn to Nazi symbolism and soldiering. And since early memory, Ive loved Germany. I dont even know what that means. I had no knowledge of what it or Nazism meant and never made it Germany until I was a teenager, I just know that it meant something to me. Sad to say it wasn't something negative. Or positive. Just an awareness.

Let me say, that of course, I completely reject all that that system stood for, now.

I recently found drawing I made of what Ive come to realize is an SS helmet decal, when I was about 8. It's exact. I had no idea what it was until I later started reading the history of the German armed forces and saw one on a helmet. In the middle of the drawing, between the runes, I drew what Ive come to realize now, is an SS officer's sword. The details are again, exact, despite my lack of artistic abillity and complete lack of knowledge at that time. Long, straight blade, C shaped hand guard, obolng handle with vertical lines on it, an SS roundel in the middle of the handle and above all, a diamond shaped pommel. Again, I was about 8. When I was about 10, I asked my parents for books about Hitler. I couldnt read well enough and frankly didnt care what the book said. But I'd sit and look at the photos for hours. I still have the books. Something was missing from them. No SS men, I later found out. That's what I was looking for.

When I was 16, I met a girl. She became my girlfriend. {for reference Im in my 30's now}. I can't say that she was at all deep, bright or introspective, as we were young. I never told her about my affinity for Nazi symbolism. We were at the beach one night and she told me that she'd had a vivid dream, wherein we were aboard a ship. I was an SS officer and we were married with 2 red-headed girls, our children. The ship sank and she and the girls died, but she was unsure what happened to me. She woke up and sobbed for the rest of the night.

Later, I met my best friend. He was visiting from Central Europe and we were both serious athletes. I had a Slovkian coach and my friend came to train in the US. The moment I met him, I knew Id found my brother. This is saying a lot considering I already have 2 brothers. Also because I dont get close to many people. We trained together and the next year, I traveled to Central Europe to train. I had been all over Europe and Germany included, but was dissappointed. Everything I seem to remember was gone. But once in Central Europe, I was home for the first time in my life.

I was there for one week and met a girl. Excactly the same feeling as with my friend. I knew I had found her, in one moment and she knew too. Interestingly, we are not together now, as we fight continually and we're secretive. We're still friends but cant be around each other as its dangerous because we're with other people now and the attraction is too deep. But she's my soul mate,thats for sure. Well, that's probably for another thread. Shes not mystically inclined or even vaguely religious. In fact, her grandfather was killled during the Nazi occupation. And no, she's not of Jewish heritage. I thought about that possibility too.

In the US, I had a career in law enforcement. No surprise there. It's ideology plus soldiering. It's what, in my mind soldiering alone, lacks. I had a house, cars, all of it. But I was never whole. I moved 2 years ago, to Central Europe and Im happier and more fulfilled than Ive ever been. Im home.

But I can say with fair certainty that if its at all possible,if I was ever anything other than what I am now, I was an SS officer in or near this place. Would have been nice to have been something better.

I dont speak the language, but I know where everything is here. Its the first place Ive ever been where I dont feel like a foreigner. Including where I was born. I just never fit there and was always out of pace. I understand the people here and good continues to happen for me, almost without effort.

The problem is, I dont have any nagging guilt. I dont know what Im supposed to have learned. Im not proud of the possibility, just aware of it. The idealogy doesnt mean anything to me. Just a generally reprehensible, but thats how I feel now. And it's not what I remember. I remember feeling right. Correct and right. I know it can't be true.

I have dreams about being aboard a ship, dressed as an SS officer without papers and being interrogated by the guards as I try to explain that Im an SS officer and that they are interrogating the wrong guy, I just lost my papers. In my dream Im just so happy to be in the right uniform for once, thinking it'll all work out because in the dream, I know Im where I belong. I have recurring dreams of marching with the SS down a cobblestone street. The scary fact is, its my most comforting dream...
 
My life as a German WWI soldier (?)

From the moment i was born I’ve always been very afraid of airplanes. My mom remembers me crying like crazy when one flew over the house. We lived (and still live) directly under the flying routes of a military airfield.
I remember, when I was about 8 years old, my teacher told us about WWII in history class. I looked at the pictures, but it didn’t look right to me. Nothing looked right. I began searching all kinds of books for pictures about WWII, but I always had this strange feeling about it.
When I was 13 or 14 my history teacher told us about the Great War (WWI). He showed us all kinds of pictures and told us about the gas attacks. Immediately after he told us I had an asthma attack. When I saw the pics it all looked so familiar. And when he showed us an German helmet and asked us how the spike on the top was called I immediately yelled “pickelhaube”. I didn’t recognize any of the other German helmets. Only the pickelhaube.
I wasn’t that much interested in the Great War, because the Netherlands never were involved in it. So even in school we didn’t learn much about it. So I forgot for a few years.
Until 1998. When I happened to come across an article about a book that would come out in the summer of 1999. It was called ”Mysterie 14-18” and was written by Richard Heijster. Something in that article triggered my imagination and I HAD to have that book. I waited for about 9 months before it finally arrived. When I read it, I was shocked. It was so real, I could smell the death and the rotting flesh of the dead and dieing soldiers. I could smell the gass and see the tree stumps, feel the intense heat of the fires all around me.
From that moment I knew. I knew I had been a soldier in the Great War. Suddenly I knew why I was the only one who knew the name of the spike on the helmet. I knew why I was really disappointed when we visited the Warmuseum in Bastogne with the whole class. I told me teacher there I missed a huge canon, which I knew should have been there. What I didn’t know was, that the canon I missed wasn’t used in WWII, but only in the Great War. Of course I was talking about Big Bertha, a German howitzer.
Since 1999 I had several dreams about the trenches and I know I was a German soldier who died in the fall of 1915. This is consistent with me not recognizing any other German helmets. The pickelhaube has been worn until 1916…
I have been killed Verdun in France. Every time I see pictures of Verdun and it’s battle fields I feel a sharp pain and some pictures even make me cry. The weird thing is, they are all taken on the German side of the battle field. When I see pictures of the French or English side I feel nothing or even a bit of joy.

I’ve always had trouble with my feet. Been to my family doctor with it quite a lot. One day there was an other doctor who looked at my feet and told me it was trench feet. He asked me if I was having wet feet a lot. I told him no, but he wouldn’t believe me. Trench feet is a condition you get when you are constantly in the water. And it hurts! Luckily it got better while I got older. And now I almost have no problems anymore.
Since I was 12 I have had a lot of trouble with my right leg too. Sprained knee, ankle, knee again, ankle again, even a sprained hip! The weird thing is, I stepped out of bed with it. I don’t even have to do anything to get it. The last few years I feel when I’m mentally not stable I get it easier, as if my knee (last few years it’s only my knee) takes over my mental problems. I’m getting more and more a feeling of my knee still having a past memory about an injury.

I haven’t visited Verdun yet, but I will do that some time in the future. I’m not sure what I will find, but if I’m on a German graveyard I will look at all the names of the people who died. And maybe, just maybe I will see one that is familiar. I have a feeling that this name won’t be much different from the last name I have now (my family originates in Germany in 1752). And, this I don’t know for sure, but my feeling is that my first name even starts with the same letter as mine does in this life.
 
Holocaust PL

recently talked to a fortune teller who told me about my Holocaust PL. I went by the name Efrain Swain and I was living in Hungary. Some of my family members were killed in the Holocaust but I survived, came to America and started life as a investment banker. In this life I work as a financial analyst which might explain my choice of profession.

Can anyone tell me how I can go about finding out more about this PL? Should I consult a census bureau to verify the name, etc? Also, I always thought Efrain was a Venezuelean or Chilean name? I was surprised to hear its Hungarian. Is Swain a Hungarian surname? Any feedback is greatly appreciated
 
Hi Obie,

I personally don't believe that a fortune teller is the best resource for finding out about past lives. You may want to read the thread Can I trust what a psychic told me about my past lives?

The very best resource, imo -- is ourselves. We need to spend more time looking inwards for the answers -- than looking to other people.

Do you have any personal experiences -- dreams, flashes, memories to back up what you were told? You may want to do some work on your own to try and find out more. This thread is a good place to start How can I learn about my past lives?

If you want to do a search for Efrain Swain, you may want to try some of the free genealogical databases, such as LDS or JewishGenWeb. You can find a list of resources here.


Best of luck on your journey,

Ailish :)
 
Nazi WWII


My last incarnation was that of a Camp Commandant in Poland. Though I am reluctant to share too much about it. Much of this is due to the fact that I have such empathy for my former self, which I fear that others simply can not understand. It is not that condone many of his activities when he was "working", I simply have an understanding of his motivations & reasonings behind it.


I guess I should start with some background as to how I found him. I never really thought about reincarnation seriously until I was in my late teens, when I had my first spontaneous recall of another lifetime (not the Nazi one). I always had a strong draw to the military when I was younger. I would always say that I wanted to be in the Army when I grew up until I asked my father which branch was the most elite. He said the Marines & I promptly decided that had to be it....I wanted to be one the elite. I eventually lost this draw to actually enroll in the military (for various reasons), but I still have an interest in the lifestyle. Though I never attributed any of this to a Nazi past life.


The first time that I was ever "overcome" by anything dealing with WWII was on a 5th grade field trip to a Holocaust museum. (Bear in mind that I was never rude or sassy to any of my teachers before this, & rarely was afterwards.) I got into quite a lot of trouble that day. I had no idea why but the entire place irritated me greatly for some unknown reason. I became very sarcastic &, frankly, beligerent, towards my teacher - who was trying to get me to show some sympathy. All of the news papers on display were American which I promptly went on a tirade about since the museum only showed "American propoganda" & none of the German point of view.


Then we came to a part of the museum that was a semi-recreation of the Auschwitz camp. There was a rather small rectangle painted on the floor that the teacher instructed the entire class to stand up & cram within the boundaries of. At first I refused saying that it was stupid. She insisted that I join the rest of the class in our very uncomfortable stance. She proceeded to give us a lecture on the fact that this is how many of the Jews felt on the transoprt trains, as they were packed so tightly. For some reason, I began to laugh. This upset her greatly & she asked what I thought was so amusing about being forced to stand in such a position for days on end. I felt as though I had turned to stone & replied to her very flatly that I would have never ended up inside one of the trains. She asked me how I was so sure about that fact since so many had suffered that fate & I replied matter of factly "Because I would have been on the other side." She glared sharply at me & redirected our attention to a wall mural that showed a picture of one of the Jewish prisoners that had thrown themselves onto the electrical fencing of the camp. The teacher kept going on about how awful things must have been for people to decide to take such drastic measures. I laughed & said "What's so awful about it? He saved us a bullet." She was truly enraged then.


At the end of the tour we were to sit in a room with a Jewish survivor of Auschwitz to hear her story. While we were waiting for her to be ready the teacher pulled me aside & snarled that there was no way in the world that she was going to let me sit ina room with that woman & mock everything that she went through. Then I became upset & told her that there was no way that I would mock a person for living through that. The teacher was very reluctant but finally decided that we would sit in the back & that I had to sit next to her "in case she needed to remove me from the room".


When we were listening to the woman recount what had happened to her & her family I simply felt numb. I didn't say anything, didn't respond in any way, I simply listened. Once she was finished we were all supposed to walk up say hello to her personally & ask any further questions that we had for her. I simply wanted to leave the room. I told the teacher so & she happily agreed to let me go wait in the bus for the rest of the class. I stayed irritated for quite a while after that & even my best friend at the time snarled at me on the bus asking what was wrong with me. I simply frowned & said that I didn't know, it just irritated & upset me.


I'll post more later, as it's getting fairly lengthy for one post. ;)


Sincerely,


Laurasia
 
My name was Hans Bothmann & I was Camp Commandant of the Chelmno extermination camp.


There are a LOT of issues that I have been trying to deal with relating to things within his lifetime. He was very much in love (with my soulmate) but the war kept them apart & prevented them from getting married. He was always waiting until he was done with the camp work, but then he would be sent out with an Einsatzgruppen unit - so he would wait until that tour was done. But then they opened the camp again! If we could only finish with what had to be done I could finally be with her! Frustrating doesn't even begin to describe it.


Though, no matter how "right" I felt, I'm also aware of the fact that Hans was very different around his fiancee. It was as though she held the key to his sanity. Then again, I'm sure that there were a lot of men working in the extermination camps that felt the same way. :(


Sincerely,


Laurasia
 
Fun, fun, fun....


Okay, so I was going to start posting the actual recollections I have had of Hans in at least some degree of order. However, just last night I had a horrendous recollection of his death while listening to my personal CD player. (Music is the easiest method for me to fall into meditation, & thusly, past life recall.) It was bad enough that my girlfriend had to come into the room & pull me out of the recall because I was choking & ready to vomit. I did quite a bit of crying after this one, but eventually managed to get it written down. So I guess that I will start with this most recent recollection instead.....


NOTE: Some of this may be hard for some people to read. If parts are too graphic than please feel free to edit my post Mods.


"I am being held in a building against my will, but it is not a "prison" in the sense that there are bars - simply locked doors & guards. Everyday I am taken to a small, dimly lit room with 2 British men. One is dark haired with a white shirt & the other has dirty blonde hair & a tan or beige shirt The dark haired one is the aggresor/interrogator.


I have been here for at least a few days. I know that they know that I am a Nazi & I try to tell them very little. I know that we have lost the war though & I haven't heard from Anna (my fiancee). I finally tell them my name one day, figuring that since we had destroyed Chelmno I would be safe....I needed them to find word about Anna & since she was connected to my name I figured it would help them to get the needed info. I told them that I would talk if they brought me news of her.


Up until this point they had been trying to intimidate or shock me into speaking by informing me of "the horrors" being discovered in the liberated camps. I simply stayed numb & it wasn't working. I knew full well what went on in those camps, they didn't know that though.


When I made my demand of hearing about Anna they became angry & ordered me put back into my room. All that I could think of was how Anna's faith, love, & pride in me had helped me endure so many years of hell & how it would do the same now.


Next I was, once again, returned to the interrogation room with the 2 men. They looked very smug. They began questioning me & I remained quiet. This continued until I again stated that I wouldn't speak until hearing about Anna. This was what they had been waiting for.


The dark one smiled evilly saying, "You may as well talk...Ivan took care of your girlfriend," then they laughed. My blood rain cold & then I felt as though I were on fire. I said that I didn't believe them & they pulled out pictures of Berlin rubble & dead civilians - focusing my attention towards the woman especially. Some had clearly been sexually assaulted.


"So, are any of these Anna?" they asked mockingly. (They then made a very nasty remark about what the Russians were doing to all German woman that I won't repeat here.) "So if she was there, I'm sure that we'll have a photo for you soon enough." I screamed. My brain felt as though it had turned to stone & was expanding in my skull. My stomach twisted & wretched. My heart, lungs, & muscles all siezed up to nearly bursting. The numbness left & was filled with rage & anguish. I just screamed & screamed until I threw up. I choked as I vomited & then continued sobbing violently.


They ordered me taken back to my room, but the guards had to virtually carry me as I let myself just be drug & continued sobbing. I was locked in my room which had a bed, chair, & table. My Anna was gone..Our baby was gone...I was gone. I sobbed for a while longer on my bed. My room had open wooden beams at the ceiling so I climbed up there using the chair & table. I had removed my belt & made a wide open circle with it which I put around my neck. I tightened up the slack & tied the end around a beam. I then stepped off of the desk.


My neck didn't break however, so I hung there strangling & kicking violenty as the belt & buckle dug deeply into my neck & lower jaw. My eyes felt as though they were going to pop out & my head was filled with immense hot pressure. I tried to pull the belt away from my throat with my fingernails to catch a breath but I couldn't. I tried using my arms to "lift" my weight off of the noose but wasn't strong enough. I could feel my energy & consciousness fading fast, so I tried to simply think of Anna."


So there you have it...Hans' death. I had a previous recollection of his a while ago that I thought would have been the worst one. This recollection proved me utterly wrong about that.


Sincerely,


Laurasia
 
Nazi memories


I went to a past life regression few weeks ago. My fobia in this life has always been to fly in airplanes. They make me feel that I should be the one to control the plane, those young guys know nothing about flying! I have travelled always in trains. Now I live in an island and a plane is the only way out.


Anyway, for a long time I have wanted to make a regression and now I met a nice German lady, psycologist, to make it with. First I could not get anywhere. I was just hiding in a place where we are given our life assignements. I remember thinking that nobody is going to make me to go back to earth after the last life. So, the therapist tells me to go to the moments before this and that is when I totally loose control. A pair of black leather boots appear in front of my eyes and I start screaming, swearing and totally panic. I remember shouting all the time: I am not going back there. No No. Not there. I feel all my muscles tighten up and I can not take air in my lungs. I guess the therapist also gets a bit scared and the therapist tries to move me from there.


Then all of a sudden ... this man appears in front of a fighterplane. It is me. I can sense all this 'heaviness' around him. He has been injured and now he is not permitted to fly anymore. It is like his life has been taken away from him. His name is Klaus. He has a dog also, a german shephard dog. He is really angry and bitter about the things in his life. Mainly because he was not responsible for anything that has happened. He feels already dead. Maybe my previous life ended in a suicide also. It felt really bad. I do not know if these leather boots were mine or somebody elses also. I remember feeling so bitter and I think I have brought these feelings into my life today also.


My personality today is a very tight person who does not show emotions very easily. (also anger) And I always feel I have no power controling my life. After this I saw a dream where my masters told me I have taken a vital step forward!!! I do hope so..: angel
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Back
Top