I remember having a "dream" or a "vision". I could see myself as a Middle Eastern looking man. I had a full beard and mustache, dark hair, olive skin. I was part of an army and had a high rank, maybe some sort of general. I could see the dry desert all around me.

I know there was some kind of fighting happening at this time and I felt I was undefeatable. I was preparing the morning defense plan, about to awaken my younger fellow militant. He seemed to be like my "right hand man," favored, the only one I would hold "normal" conversations with.

Present: When my oldest son was three years old, out of the blue one day, very seriously, he stated, "Mom, I don't want you to die. I don't want them to shoot you."

I asked, "You don't want who to shoot me?"

My son answered, "The mean guys. Remember, Mom?"

I said, "No. I don't remember that."

My son seemed very concerned and asked, "You don't remember that, Mommy? Remember when I was big, the mean guys shot you and killed you? I don't want them to shoot you again."

It hurt me to see him look so solemn, so I told him that no one was going to shoot me again, and I quickly changed the subject. I felt in my heart that he was remembering this from a past life, but I wanted him to forget it because it seemed to bother him so much.

Now my son is ten, and about a year ago told me that he had a "dream" that felt more like a "vision" to him. He told me that he could see us as grown men. We were in the army and looked like Middle Eastern men. He described my dark hair and full beard and told me that our clothes looked more like "regular army clothes, not the really old kind." He told me that we were walking alone and while we were talking he heard a loud noise. I dropped to the ground because I had been shot in the back and killed.

My son said that when he turned around he saw two enemy militants running away. He said that his fellow militants came running to our aid. There were some questions as to what had happened. They asked my son if he had shot me but he explained that he had no weapons on him. However, he had seen two men running away. He wasn't aware that we were being followed or that I was going to be killed, but he did not feel any compassion about my passing. It hurt him to admit to me that he did not feel sad for me at that time, so long ago in our past lives.

I believe we share a memory of the same past lives.

D & D

Posted Nov. 10, 2011