by Marie Price

Created on: April 14, 2009

If you ask five different people what reincarnation means to them you will probably get five completely different answers. In some cultures reincarnation is simply the rebirth of the human soul in to a new body. Some cultures believe we are reincarnated according to how we lived in our previous life. Still some cultures believe we are reincarnated as animals not humans. The church I attended as a child taught us that when we die there are only two options, Heaven or Hell. The subject of reincarnation was strictly taboo in our home and so I really didn't think much about it until The dreams started.

Have you ever gone to a new place and yet know that you have been there before? Maybe you have seen a painting or statue in a museum that seems so familiar it's like meeting an old friend. Have you ever dreamed you were actually someone else? Well I have. I am not a lunatic, drug addict or candidate for the funny farm, I am simply a person who has lived before.

My story starts at the age of five, the age when my dreams first started. At first the dreams were fragmented and hard to remember, but as time went on they became so real they were frightening. I wasn't sure what was happening to me. I saw myself living in other times and other places. My most vivid dream was that of a young girl living close to a river bank sometime in the early 1900's. As I got older the dreams became less frightening but now my curiosity was getting the better of me. Who were these people? Was the girl on the river bank really me? Did she even exist? My parent's religious beliefs plus an absolute fear of scandal made it impossible to talk to them about the dreams. I knew any answers would have to come from someone other than my parents.I started searching Public Records and checking the Public Library for old photos or artifacts donated to the library by the Preservation Society. I spent my entire summer that year searching for anything that would give me the answers I needed. Then one day found her. The photo was old and worn but it was her. The article listed her date of death as March 3,1908. She had been killed when a mound of dirt she had been standing on gave way and she fell in to the river and drowned. I couldn't believe my eyes. There she was or rather there I was. The resemblance was eerie. I can't remember how I felt, but somehow I knew that I was the girl in the photo. I know now my dreams are more than just dreams. They are memories of a past life, lessons to be learned in this life and a possible window in to the next life.

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