I have been married to my husband for nearly ten years. His father was a pilot in World War II and was killed when his plane was shot down over the Pacific near a small Japanese island called Hachicho Jima. My husband was only nine when his father died. He is now seventy-three.

Seven years ago I gave birth to our son, Benjamin. When Benjamin was about three, he was sitting in front of the full-length mirror in my bathroom when he got this horribly tragic and sad expression on his face and tears in his eyes. I asked him what was wrong, and in what I can only describe as panic mode, he said the following:

"What happened to me? What happened to me? I was flying the plane but those men were chasing us. They didn't like us. Why didn't they like us, Mommy? They were shooting and shooting. I tried to get away but I had to land on the water, and then I drowned. We all drowned." He said the last sentence with such pain and emotion that it brought me to tears.

We had never mentioned his grandfather's death to him. In fact, I don't believe he even knew that his grandfather had been a pilot, since it is a delicate subject with my husband. My husband later asked him how many people were on the plane with him, and he gave the correct answer - six.

We are convinced that either he is his grandfather reincarnated, or that he was somehow experiencing the memory of his grandfather's death fifty-seven years before he himself was born!

Misty S Doxey
mistyskpk@charter.net

Posted Apr. 1, 2008