Your True Tales
February 2008 - Page 21
Past Life of Torture
by Paul
I was born in Africa in 1969, and we moved to England when I was two years old. One of my first memories is with my mother as we passed a graveyard in the UK. I asked her what it was and she told me, "That is where you go when you die." I told my mother that this wasn't true and that you ended up coming back to life. My mother looked at me very strangely and said some people believe you go to Heaven.
I ended up telling her a story about my past life as a man who was tortured and left to die. The memory I keep is the last few days of my former life. It is in a dark cell with stone steps that leads up to a door. I was thrown down the steps and my legs were broken in many places. My appearance was that of a Eastern European or Middle Eastern man. I had dark hair, dark eyes, and a beard, but I don't know remember my name. I remember feeling very frightened as I knew I was going to die, but adamant that the belief in my religious beliefs would pull me through. I was left in the cell to die, with no food and water.
This memory I have is very vivid and has stayed with me throughout my life, and there is one thing that I can still relate to this past experience. From time to time I get sharp, stabbing pains in the bones of my legs, and I can feel pain for no apparent reason. I know this memory needs to be developed and I would love to be regressed to find out more information about the person I was. This memory is too vivid and violent to be made up by a child who was not yet three, and I think I knew a lot more about this person when I was younger.
When I finished telling this story to my mother, she looked shocked. I think she thought I was the spawn of the devil, so I never talked about it again to my family. For the past 20 years I have been lucky enough to live in many countries around the world and I have occasionally talked to people who have opened up about reincarnation. Many religions have this belief and it came as no surprise when I recounted my story to them. This has opened my eyes to respect all religions, and there is a common denominator in them all.
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