7 comments on “My Civil War Life

  1. I too have these feelings but not with the specificity of place or era. Unexplained and strong emotions around several things (I’ve told you about my unusual reaction to even the mention of dismemberment). I keep myself open to the possibility I’ve lived other lives and would be fascinated if I could get more in touch with that. I laughed at this line: “It was your basic, being bayoneted-in-your-side kinda dream…” Ha! I had a dream about Wen’s plane going down one time…. and it turned out Wen had the same exact dream at the same time as he flew home! That was freaky! He’s very good about calling me whenever he lands so I know he’s gotten to his destination OK. Thanks for opening up with these very personal experiences.


  2. You’re welcome, thanks for stopping by and commenting, Karen! Freaky, your simultaneous dreams with Wen! My wife and I also shared a dream once that I know of. I’ll have to find it and see if I actually wrote it down, but she uttered something aloud that totally tied into the dream I’d just awoken from….

    I’ve thought about writing about this for a long time. It’s one of the strongest felt past-life experiences I’ve ever had. And that dream—not counting the actual battlefield experience—few things can “match” that for intensity (though I have had a few on par)!

    I was later thinking, while living at the Lake Clear house as a kid, we had all kinds of WWI/II stuff in the attic, and one of those things was a bayonet. I remember being utterly fascinated by it…but even more “weird” to-the-point that literally just struck me as I write this right now, was that that bayonet had actually been found (by me!) *under that stairs in my bedroom* that led down into a smaller room that was attached to my larger room (see https://fpdorchakrealitycheck.wordpress.com/2013/02/02/the-silver-man/, for another description of this adjoining room). Wow, I’d nearly forgotten about that until just this moment! Of course, once found, it no longer stayed in my room, but I remember being utterly enthralled by it, looking for blood stains, scrapes, anything tell-tale that would have screamed that IT had actually been USED. Running my fingers and hands along its blade, its edge, grasping its handle. Could never tell about any “blood”; It did have little spotty stains on it, but….

    So, one more instance of being “tied” to bayonets. Fascinating. This is what I mean by attracting “things” between lives.


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