My Past Life Memories

[Milkweed]

I have always believed in the possibility of past lives from a very young age. I was raised between Catholic and Jehova's Witness and nothing ever felt right. But I never had proof of past lives until I met my friend Brittany. She has spent many years practicing past life work and remembers a significant amount from her own. She did not recognize me at first, at least not until she saw me with another friend. She had known us both but did not know until she saw us together. Since then we have worked together many times to reveal many memories.

My first experience was watching the two of them go back. She meant to jump start his memories, but instead he broke through her wards and saw her memories, which from what I understand, is supposed to be impossible. We knew this happened because when they snapped out of it she was so excited and asked him what he saw. He described in perfect detail memories she had only ever told me; ones he couldnt have known about. It nearly brought her to tears.

At that point I felt a little too intimidated to go back myself, feeling like they knew what they were doing much more than me. But that night I had a dream. I was in a small cabin and they were both with me. She was putting a protection charm on something, despite his complaints about using magick. Then the item began to spin and became a flurry of white light and black feathers; I could hear raven calls in the distance. Talking about it the next day I learned that it was a signal of the presence of the goddess Morrigan, who I had never heard of before. This is what compelled me to go back on my own.

So, I went back without the others. The first thing that happened was I felt a rush and everything went black. I tasted wet grit and could not breath, like I was in a river. But it was over as soon as it began. Then I found myself on a hill, walking down it towards a forest on a sunny day. I wore a hood and carried a basket full of herbs. Two children ran around ky feet, but they were not mine. Their mother called to them and I looked behind me as they went to her (this woman turned out to be my friend today, or rather, who she was). She was standing in a garden behind a small house. Somewhere around 1300-1400 rural England/Ireland. The forest I was heading to was where I lived. Inside looked exactly like the one in my dream. I remember falling into the river by my house. I remember seeing raven feathers coming out of nowhere whenever I was in trouble, like they were protecting me. And thats most of that memory.

Next time was with the two of my friends, with a fourth friend we has acquired watching (since we had discovered he was my friend's husband, but thats another story in its own). We saw his memories of war- burning fields and dead bodies, which quickly turned into the memory of my friend's barn burning down with her four year old daughter inside. By this time we knew little more than what I last mentioned, like how my guy friend knew me (he ran away from a dangerous situation and took refuge at my house, in hiding for years). This memory elaborated a little more. He was cutting through the woods around my house when a wolf pack caught sight of him. He was mauled pretty good. No idea how he got away. But he found my cabin and knocked. I opened the door to find a bloody man at my step, who fainted before saying a word. (He insists he was rendered speechless from my beauty but I say it was bloodloss). So I dragged him in and sewed him up. He was out for days but he did wake briefly to ask if I was a witch simply because it hurt so much. And mind you, at the time, this question offended me. I remember a while later coming home to find that he had re opened his wounds hunting. He was cleaning a rabbit skin and boiling the meat along with my healing herbs, which tasted disgusting by the way, but to this day he insists it was better than my carrot stew. I was very angry with him but it was hard to stay that way when he smiled at me with that look of pride on his face.

Last time I went back alone I saw many things I did not wish to remember. I saw my death, 20-30 years after what was previously mentioned. I was bound and dressed for a sick ceremony- lead to ruins by a cult. They tied stones to my ankles that were engraved with runes and threw me into a well. I also saw my friend's death. Or rather, found his body. His brother, wife, and son had come to retrieve him. I dont know why but I ended up following them for some reason. Hours after they left, though. There was something he needed to know. But instead I stumbled across the site of a struggle. A bloodstained path with his body and those of his attackers. His family had fled while he fought them off, he remembers. And then, when I went to tell my other friend what happened, I witnessed the death of her husband's soul and her humanity. When the barn fire took their daughter, their son ran away. They lost themselves to grief. Her husband, we believe, tried somehow to get their daughter back an in the process let something into himself. Something dark that engulfed his soul. And being his loving wife, she followed him. When I went to tell them what happened, he wouldnt let me speak to her. I tried to anyway and he struck my to the ground. She hardly flinched. I left them after that and I dont believe I saw her again.

Along the way little things were also remembered. Like when I met her. I was about twelve, stealing from her garden. She was heavily pregnant and came out to bust me but instead took me in as an apprentice. Or how she would have to hold me down to braid my hair and I ended up cutting it all off. Or my own apprentice I obtained after I left them.

I believe we all came together because when souls become fond of each other, they tend to follow each other around. I also think the presence of all of us is why we remember this life more than the others. And remember, we got this much from years of work and piecing things together.

TL;DR I knew three of my friends in the same life in 1300-1400's England/Ireland and together we have worked out a great chunk of it.