It was 8 years on Monday, March 8th, 2021, the anniversary of my grandma’s passing away. I have always had a special connection to my grandma. It felt like a mother-childlike bond, a relationship where I lived with her for about a month every year during the summer months until I graduated high school. It always seemed like we might have been in a past life together or something of similarity.
My grandma immigrated to Canada, and her mother and sister, well, her father, stayed back to fight in World War II for the Allie forces of England. He would die under maybe the greatest leader of all time Winston Churchill. The building my grandma lived in was bombed late at night by the Nazis, where she and her family barely escaped, and before they knew it, they were living in Calgary, Alberta.
My mom, well pregnant with me, had a recurring dream every night for the 3 months leading up to my birth. The dream was of a man dressed in camouflage, a metal helmet bearing a massive gun as he was deep in the trenches, bullets flying by in every direction. The dreams were very similar in style every night of that same person in the middle of the heat of a full-on war.
When I was 24 years old, I started being mentored by a Buddhist, where I learned many different meditation techniques and styles. I learned many other breathing exercises, meditation styles of different cultures. It was also around the same time I started doing yoga daily and going into float tanks or sensory deprivation tanks. I went as deep as trying many psychedelics, including Ibogaine under a shaman/doctor, to cure PTSD. I once did LSD then went into a floatation tank.
In September of 2014, I was meditating 20 minutes twice daily, and in my morning session, I was going through the routine. Then out of nowhere, I took the form of some guy in a war, and I remember laying in a trench with bullets flying by like heavy rainfall, but it wasn’t water pouring down it was machine-gun bullets and grenades being blown up in all directions.
I looked down, and I watched a bullet in slow motion go towards my right calve muscle and as soon as the bullet went to break the skin, I opened my eyes. I was born with what looks like a dime-sized birthmark on my right calve, but it’s actually blood vessels that grew on top of the skin instead of under it. It’s the exact spot where the bullet in my vision was headed right before I awoke.
Later that evening, I spoke with my mother and mentioned what had happened that morning when I meditated. She said it makes sense, and that’s when I learned about her few month’s continuous dream of a person being in wartime. She noted multiple psychics told her it was me during that wartime in her dreams, showing her my previous life before entering this one.
For years I would meditate using various techniques, connect with that last life and why I was in this life now. Then, one day I had these war flashbacks of me leaving my grandma and never seeing her again until she saw me one day in the hospital right after I was born. Meaning, I believe that I was my grandma’s dad in my later life who lost his life during WWII as a decorated 26-year-old war hero. He fought for his country to protect it from fascist ideologies. I was sent back into this life to spend the lost time I missed out with my grandmother.
To be continued.