There was a week where I was barraged with images, and physical and emotional responses from other times and experiences.  These were tiny fragments, but they do seem to carry themes.


I find myself in a small group of people riding small horses across what seemed to be the Mongolian steppes.  We were nomads and wore layer upon layer of clothing.  All we owned was carried on the horses.  There were no more than eight or ten of us (not all horses carried people, but some horses carried more than one person, so it was hard to get a count in a brief vision).   I was a small child, barely able to walk, riding in front of my mother, surrounded by pots and blankets.  Suddenly, from behind us, fast riders attacked, swinging weapons (huge sticks–like bats) and grabbing our goods and horses.  My mother was hit across the head and she and I both tumbled from the horse which ran off with the rest of our group.  Our group fled–they had to in order to survive.  My mother was dead.  I simply sat there in the dry grasses, stunned and without understanding.  The vision ended.

It seemed to me that my mother then was Sarah, the sister I lost in this life.  We’d reversed roles: I was the child and she was the parent.

2.   I’m a young adult.  Maybe ancient Greece or Rome… Mediterranean area, far from the sea.  An unorganized group of horses that needed herding.  I am knocked over and my leg is trampled.  I get up and walk with great pain.

3.  On a small, gray, dry planet.  Not a human body, but we are male and female and paired in marriage.  Our home is tiny: two small rooms, earth-built.  I am the female.  I fly a small spaceship and love my work.  My husband feels betrayed because I leave for months at a time.  He thinks I don’t love him.  I do, but I won’t give up my work.  I am frustrated that he won’t trust my love, and leave again over his objections.

It feels like my second husband, Fred.