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Post by Miss Bothmann on Sept 25, 2010 14:16:31 GMT -5
LOL! You set off the smoke detector? I have had so many candles lit at times that I was afraid of this happening when I blew them all out, but luckily it never happened.  I am sorry that you have to relive these horrible experiences so vividly. I have also had a past life where I experienced extreme sickness to the point of delusions and hallucinations. One of the worst things I recalled was the feeling of an extreme thirst that never seemed to be satiated. My lips were cracked and droplets of blood poured down my chin. Unfortunately, I did not survive that life....the sickess was the result of a malicious poisoning which took its time killing me but finally did. I sympathize with you so much on feeling those sort of memories..to me, they always feel the most realistic--thus, the most scary.  |
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Post by euskanoravian on Sept 26, 2010 19:06:14 GMT -5
Because of my illness, I experience dehydration often. Recently I was hospitalized due to it. Nonetheless I never want to compare my current experiences with my illness to what torture you had endured in your last life. I cannot even imagine it. The recollections I can only imagine are nothing short of disturbing.
Blessed Be,
Andi
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Post by msmir on Sept 26, 2010 23:31:13 GMT -5
I can only imagine the thirst that diabetics feel!! My father has type 2 diabetes so he must know... that is a terrible feeling, dehydration but a big difference between mild and severe.
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Post by privatetucker on Sept 27, 2010 21:14:36 GMT -5
MissBothmann: Yeah, I did. And my step-dad was all, "What are you doing?!"
That sounds like a really horrible thing to relive (as I also know) and it sucks. D8
Andi: *moar hugs* I seem to be hugging a lot lately, but yeah...I hope it helps. ^^
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Post by privatetucker on Sept 27, 2010 21:19:01 GMT -5
If double posting is against the rules please don't hesitate to let me know, but I wanted to save a separate post for this. It's an essay I wrote for my class because I mentioned the regression Luna and Jaeger (I hope I spelled that right) on my LJ, and my professor was fascinated by it, so I wrote out a piece about my past life sister, Rivkah. Also, I did use a pseudonym for my real name, just so you know.
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A dark crimson ribbon, the sleeve of a sailor suit dress. Her hand holding onto mine, pulling me forward. I am tripping as she urgently tugs me across the high wooden bridge--on of the three that span across the Lodz Ghetto.
Now I'm sure to the average reader, this will seem like pure insanity. "Carolina, what are you thinking?! How can you possibly have these recollections; you're making it up." Perhaps after telling my account some will think so. However, I have had such memories since I was eight years old, and there isn't much I can do in changing one's opinions on what I have or have not experienced. When it comes to Rivkah, the sister I once had, the sister I once loved...that is a story that begins when I was sixteen, and has no true ending. But these past few days, I have received more information than I could have ever imagined.
In the visions I have seen in both dreams and hypnosis, what I remember most about Rivkah is her laughter, How, despite everything, she was still able to do so, still find the fun in life. There were moments when she could not, and there were moments when didn't get along. But we were still attached, and when I recall her now I am filled with a mixture of both sadness, happiness, love and a tad of childhood jealousy.
Yes, I was jealous of Rivkah, I will admit it. For her shiny, dark hair worn in a bob, the bangs pinned to one side in the popular style back then, a style that Anne Frank wore herself. I thought she was prettier than me, and I longed for her light eyes; in my mind she was the lucky one. And that blue sailor suit, the one I saw over and over again, paired with the crimson ribbon in her hair. I longed for that dress, and even today I still have an urge to wear one.
My first memory in that regression was one of her, that moment on the bridge in the ghetto. Later it would switch to more painful ones, and ones that were even more hazy. But it was both a relief and a deep, lingering pain when I found out about her eventual fate.
The most vivid after the bridge was one of us at Auschwitz-Birkenau, our arrival. While I received the tattoed number on my arm with a wincing silence, she was unable to do so, kicking up quite the fuss. In the darkened, damp room, she whined and cried out, playing a losing game of tug of war with a blonde SS officer. Though he was not the one carving the permanent number into her flesh, he was far from a patient man. Each time she bit her lip and cried, turning her arm away in any attempt to make it stop he would pull her back, an iron grip on her delicate wrist. My memory of her number was hazy and unseen, but maybe that doesn't matter. Because to me, Rivkah was not a number, and never would be.
Rivkah was one of the few who got a privileged job in Birkenau--as part of the Kanadakommando she was allowed to keep some of her hair, and get extra food. That was what kept her going, though in the end it did not save her life. Kanada was an overflowing series of warehouses in Birkenau where the confiscated belongings of arrivals were sorted to be sent back to Germany, and the perfect place for what was called "organizing" in camp lingo.
In the end, however, with the approach of the Russians, prisoners were being sent to various camps left and right, and that was the fate that befell her, when we saw each other for the last time. That is a moment in the past life memories that I will never forget when I was "read" and told of her fate by a dear friend of mine, a psychic who was able to clarify what I knew. Shoved into the back of a military truck I was unable to run after her, I will never know where she died, and I will never know when or how. As for me...I was sent to Bergen-Belsen in the last winter of the war, but that is a story for another time.
My final memory flash in the regression returned to Lodz, to the ghetto, to her laughter and her insistent impatience that I follow her. The yellow star on her dress, a mark of what would follow. Every day our lives was meant to kill our sense of humanity, to break our pride, but the Rivkah I remember never succumbed to that.
And in my mind, however flawed, she never would.
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Post by sweetlunapie on Sept 27, 2010 21:40:45 GMT -5
PrivateTucker, first...I need to say that you are so wonderful.
Secondly, that was so beautifully composed. You totally captured the feelings and scenery, and I could tell how you felt when I did the reading on you, it was just like reliving it through your words. I can tell that really...you loved her so much, and I wonder how often you miss her taking your hand and leading you to discover something else.
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Post by msmir on Sept 27, 2010 23:30:00 GMT -5
Tucker, you MUST create a book about this... at the right time of course!! But I feel it would make a wonderful book! You have such vivid and amazing memories about this.. it needs to be done and remember I can always help you out!
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Post by privatetucker on Sept 28, 2010 10:56:54 GMT -5
PrivateTucker, first...I need to say that you are so wonderful. Secondly, that was so beautifully composed. You totally captured the feelings and scenery, and I could tell how you felt when I did the reading on you, it was just like reliving it through your words. I can tell that really...you loved her so much, and I wonder how often you miss her taking your hand and leading you to discover something else. *glomp* Thanks. <3 I think you're pretty amazing yourself, and I have you to thank for both the reading and helping with the regression. ^^ And thank you very much--I did have a little bit of fun making this more stylized than what I wrote in my journal after the regression, and it was really nice writing it. I suppose I just...I'd like to know who she is now, if she is anyone I am aware of now. Miriam: I would love to write a book about it, and I have the need to write something about it for a long long time...just not sure how to begin, you know? ^^ |
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Post by sweetlunapie on Sept 28, 2010 11:44:47 GMT -5
Aww! I enjoyed doing it! I think there are ways that I can help you find out! |
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Post by privatetucker on Sept 28, 2010 21:07:47 GMT -5
Yeah? How so? ^^
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Post by sweetlunapie on Sept 29, 2010 6:01:25 GMT -5
I'd have to explain it on Skype, it's too complex to explain on here. |
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Post by msmir on Sept 29, 2010 23:11:26 GMT -5
Miriam: I would love to write a book about it, and I have the need to write something about it for a long long time...just not sure how to begin, you know? ^^ Let me know and I can help! But the best thing to do is ALWAYS start to take notes.. I am just in the bare bones with notetaking for book #3. |
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lulz
Junior Member
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Post by lulz on Sept 30, 2010 8:27:02 GMT -5
Everybody here is amazing at writing. I swear I will write something well once I can be at a PC again.
Tucker, I'm glad you shared this with us. It saddens me to hear about the way you and your sister were treated in Auschwitz.
It must be hard to remember her so happy and then in such pain.
*hugs*
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Post by privatetucker on Sept 30, 2010 12:50:04 GMT -5
Miriam: I would love to write a book about it, and I have the need to write something about it for a long long time...just not sure how to begin, you know? ^^ Let me know and I can help! But the best thing to do is ALWAYS start to take notes.. I am just in the bare bones with notetaking for book #3. Thank you! And yeah, my journal is covered in notes. Lulz: *hugs* Thanks. I actually kind of...despite knowing what happened to her and stuff I don't really think too much about the separation if I can. I think that's why the strongest images that came to me are the ones where she's happier--probably a form of protection, you know? |
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Post by Laurasia on Sept 30, 2010 13:38:29 GMT -5
Thank you for sharing that Tucker. It was very nice to read.
And yes, MsMir will definitely be of help to you in regards to writing. ;D If it weren't for her, I most likely wouldn't be writing myself. LOL!
Sincerely,
Laurasia
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