You Were Who?

Memories.

Slowly they return.

This is a post I wrote in early May. I’ve changed and edited it slightly in hopes of generating interest for readers so that the comment boxes become filled with intriguing tales of who we used to be.


I was a stone age man a long, long time ago. I saw him in a meditation and we stood facing each other, just looking. Somehow I knew that he knew that I was him in the future. Got that? And I knew that he was me thousands of years ago.

His stature was about the same and our facial features were very much alike, but his overall countenance was simian. We just stared at each other. Didn’t say a word, either of us. What could we say, anyway? He seemed like a nice guy, however.

I lived in Lemuria. One beautiful, golden day I must have been out hiking through a savannah and maybe trying to reconnect with nature, when a thermonuclear weapon exploded somewhere off to my far left.

I remember seeing a lone tree, a few hundred yards away, get flattened like a snapped toothpick, while the tall yellow grass that surrounded me became horizontal instead of vertical. A surge of air like something out of a blast furnace grabbed me and I started doing cartwheels in mid air.

I landed in a thicket of bushes a long way from where I started and I believe that’s when I died. Can’t remember anything after that.

In my most recent past life, I was an Air Force aircraft mechanic and I vividly remember the scene when I got my orders to report to an underground military base. A woman officer delivered my papers to me and naturally I was grinning and eyeballing her until the smile was wiped off my face when I saw where I was going.

I’ve had several lucid memories given to me from the underground base, but one of the most interesting was a time when I climbed into a flying saucer simulator and watched two human men get instruction from an alien grey.

I stood in the cockpit doorway and observed what they were doing. It must have been routine for a mechanic to be there, because I wasn’t booted off or told to leave.

The pilots and the alien grey didn’t speak to each other. They must have been using telepathy. Every now and then the alien grey would raise his right arm as if to point out something to the pilots. The grey didn’t look like Yoda, either. He was a tall one, around 5′ 6″, I’d guess.

Then there was the time I was a dog.

And another time I was a fish.

And another time I was a Confederate soldier in the Civil War.

And still another time I was a warrior of some kind in medieval days and I’ll never forget looking down at myself in my meditations and realizing I was wearing some kind of armored kilt. The “skirt” hung down to my knees and was overlaid with metal plates of some kind.

The shirt I was wearing had the same construction and on my feet were sandals. Sometimes we get really lucid imagery in visions and this was one of those times, because the first thing I thought when I saw myself was, “What in the hell am I doing wearing a dress?”

I was standing on a shoreline of a lake with my boat run aground on a rocky beach and in my hand was a very, very long, very, very straight pointed spear. Eight feet in length or more.

I was amazed. What a life THAT must have been.

And now I know why women are always cold. There’s nothing to stop a frigid breeze from reaching your hindquarters when you’re wearing a dress!

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