I remember a past life before spoken word.

It came to me in a dream, initially, recently after “things ended” with a soul mate back in 2007/8ish. I say soul mate because we were able to communicate vibrationally. (Not telepathically — just energetically. In a very grounded manner. And clearly.)

There are two moments I especially remember:

  • In the first, we were spending time together and I felt myself “speak” to him through my throat chakra. I was surprised at myself, but pleased it had come out of me. He reacted instinctively. (Some time later – I want to say years, but I’m just not sure about the time frame anymore – he asked if what I had said in that moment was true. It was.)
  • In the second, I was sitting at my desk at work and heard his voice in my ear say, “Check your phone.” As I picked up my phone, a text message from him came through. Something about a secret he wanted to tell me. I pushed him to tell me then. He said he was moving. “That’s not a secret. That’s news.,” I responded. I learned years later there was more to it, but that was as much as I could handle at the time.

Sometime in between these two moments, I had the dream.

In it, the two of us were walking. We were partners. He was dying. We were in the middle of a tundra; I understood it to be Siberia. We walked until he couldn’t go any further. I held him as he lay dying, and just loved him until he passed.

I told him I had remembered a past life with him, but I never told him what I had seen. He asked. He said he had been studying past lives. I didn’t feel it was my place to say. I told him if it was something that was necessary for him to know for his life journey, it would come to him in another way. (Not in a cruel way, but matter-of-factly.) He understood.

I’ve learned more about the past life since that initial dream, though.

A few months after he had moved away, he was coming back to the area to attend a local festival. I knew he was coming, because he either told me energetically or I felt a shift in a mutual connection indicating his plans. I also started to feel his energy becoming stronger. It wasn’t something I was ready for, so I called a friend who was living in Boston and asked if I could visit. My friend said he was in Carolina Beach playing a gig (dueling piano bar performer), but the bar was putting he and the other pianist up in a house. There was plenty of space and I was welcome to visit there.

I bought a plane ticket immediately.

On the way to airport, I missed the exit. When I got off at the next one to turn around, I saw a sign for a campground B & I had stayed at once. “Are you .. kidding me?” (I swore.)

Then I missed the exit two more times. (More swearing.)

I was frustrated and becoming anxious about missing my flight.

Thoughts: “Is this the fairies playing games with me? What is going on here?”

I directed a message to him: “I know you’re going to [the festival]; I’m not going. I’m leaving the area. I can’t be this close to your energy right now. I’m just trying to get to the airport.” (Or something like that.)

He responded: “The airport is exit ###.”

“Thank you.”

I called the airport to verify. The lady I spoke with assured me I was close, there was not a long line, and I should have no problem making my flight. (B was right about the exit number, and I had also heard him clearly.)

I had a layover in Philadelphia and had to switch terminals. I had tons of time, so decided to check out the artist features on the walls. The first one I saw was a series of pencil (I think) drawings of a tundra-like region. Someone ice fishing. A campfire. They really highlighted the vastness. My past life dream rushed back and a haze came over me.

I made my way to the gate and took out my notebook to write. As I wrote, I received more information on my Siberian past life.

We had been travelling to find a cure for a sickness he had and were on our way back home. After he had passed, I buried him ceremoniously and made my way back to our village. There was some sort of a gatekeeper there. When I passed, we exchanged energy in which I explained and she understood what had happened. The village was composed of huts. Round ones. I went to mine.

That was the end of the vision, but from my higher self, I was told I had been pregnant and gave birth to and raised a son in that life.

When I stepped off the ramp and into the airport in Wilmington, Hanson – my favorite band – was playing over the speakers.

I exhaled a sigh of relief. I was right where I needed to be. This is the language of divinity.