J
julie_twice
Guest
Okay, so recently while my interest in possible past lives has been renewed, I've figured out a lot more about some of mine, and the most recent one in particular. Some of it is rather distressing so I'm going to do my best to not be too detailed per the forum rules....
I have these memories of a kitchen/dining room, big wooden table, lacy tablecloth, spaghetti cooking, I'm quite small, it's off a hallway, and across from the kitchen is a living room. I have the clear recollection that the adults were meeting for something serious that I was to keep my nose out of. I remember a cousin, she wore a lot of white frilly clothes, her name was Maria and she was born in November 1949. I remember also having a sibling close to my own age.
So one visual I clearly recall is I'm standing in the hallway, the kitchen is to my right but I can't see in, but I see Maria coming down the hallway towards me, she's all smiling and happy. She's about 15 or so and I'm in my single digits. Next thing I know, something sudden happens and she's on the floor dying. Mother rushes me and my sibling upstairs, there's a door that leads to a small space with a plain pull chain lightbulb in the ceiling, and only 4 or 5 feet behind that first door is another door that leads into an even smaller space in the corner where the angle of the roof meets the floor. (In this life, when I was 14 my room was a loft with that kind of corner and it was making me flash back a lot, although I didn't understand it yet.) But in spite of mother's attempts to hide us, we're too scared to be quiet and police officers find us.
Some time later, they made me take the witness stand in a courtroom and recall everything I saw happen that evening.
I don't have memories of the intervening years. Next thing I have clear impressions and visuals of is being in a house, orange shag carpets, dark brown simulated wood panel walls, one brick or block wall in the living room, sliding glass doors out to the fenced back yard, songs that were released around 1968. We stayed up late the following year to watch the Moon landings. This house feels nothing like the old place, the family is completely different, I remember a little sister I was very close to, I remember her face, her name (Mandy), her birthdate even (Feb 11 '63), and a brother who was a baseball fan. Feels like home, feels like being cared for and about, and I'm there through much of the '70s.
But I don't know how accurate any of this is. I don't know really anything about what happens when the state (New York specifically) intervenes with something like that, or how the foster system works. The old family, one side was Latin (father's side, and I might even know the last name); the new family, father had a British accent. I remember how I looked and that I would have passed just fine as a member of the new family. I have other visuals/memories pertaining to cultural aspects but I don't completely understand what they are.
I have these memories of a kitchen/dining room, big wooden table, lacy tablecloth, spaghetti cooking, I'm quite small, it's off a hallway, and across from the kitchen is a living room. I have the clear recollection that the adults were meeting for something serious that I was to keep my nose out of. I remember a cousin, she wore a lot of white frilly clothes, her name was Maria and she was born in November 1949. I remember also having a sibling close to my own age.
So one visual I clearly recall is I'm standing in the hallway, the kitchen is to my right but I can't see in, but I see Maria coming down the hallway towards me, she's all smiling and happy. She's about 15 or so and I'm in my single digits. Next thing I know, something sudden happens and she's on the floor dying. Mother rushes me and my sibling upstairs, there's a door that leads to a small space with a plain pull chain lightbulb in the ceiling, and only 4 or 5 feet behind that first door is another door that leads into an even smaller space in the corner where the angle of the roof meets the floor. (In this life, when I was 14 my room was a loft with that kind of corner and it was making me flash back a lot, although I didn't understand it yet.) But in spite of mother's attempts to hide us, we're too scared to be quiet and police officers find us.
Some time later, they made me take the witness stand in a courtroom and recall everything I saw happen that evening.
I don't have memories of the intervening years. Next thing I have clear impressions and visuals of is being in a house, orange shag carpets, dark brown simulated wood panel walls, one brick or block wall in the living room, sliding glass doors out to the fenced back yard, songs that were released around 1968. We stayed up late the following year to watch the Moon landings. This house feels nothing like the old place, the family is completely different, I remember a little sister I was very close to, I remember her face, her name (Mandy), her birthdate even (Feb 11 '63), and a brother who was a baseball fan. Feels like home, feels like being cared for and about, and I'm there through much of the '70s.
But I don't know how accurate any of this is. I don't know really anything about what happens when the state (New York specifically) intervenes with something like that, or how the foster system works. The old family, one side was Latin (father's side, and I might even know the last name); the new family, father had a British accent. I remember how I looked and that I would have passed just fine as a member of the new family. I have other visuals/memories pertaining to cultural aspects but I don't completely understand what they are.
