Message from my Past Life
By Lura Ketchledge
Editor’s Note: Lura would like readers to visit her website: www.LuraKetch.com.
This isn't fiction. This isn't someone else's story. This is my story. There is a puzzle that needs to be solved in my present life, a link to the person who was me before I was me. To piece my past life together and find out who murdered me I need your help. I invite you as a reader to roll up your sleeves, get on your computer and search with me. I want you to go through obituaries, archives, court records and newspaper articles to find my killer. This article is the first in a series of articles about my murder!
These are the facts: my name was Eleanor. I was murdered in 1942 by a jealous boyfriend. I had straight, shoulder length red hair parted on the side. My eyes were blue and somewhat small. I was a young adult, and a bit overweight but not obese. My skin was fair. My nose was straight and pointed. My cheeks were full almost plump. I had a strong chin, not a big chin, but a distinct chin. I was not beautiful or ugly. I was average. I had the face of the girl next door. I was pleasant and friendly.
How do I know these things? I spoke with my mother in my past life and she told me my name was Eleanor and my jealous boyfriend killed me in 1942!
Let me go back thirty years ago when linear time made sense to me and birth and death had a beginning and end. My paranormal journey started innocently enough. I fell off a horse and died. When I came back to physical reality I brought backl with me psychic abilities. A tug of war ensued inside me as I struggled to make sense of my new found insights into the paranormal. What do you do when you can see spirits and occasionally speak with the dead? It is not exactly dinner conversation is it? To stay sane I channeled all my psychic experiences into three novels. I created fictional characters with my psychic abilities, living in a pretend world with a mystery and a sense of humor thrown in for good measure
As I wrote, I refrained from reading about the paranormal because I didn't want to taint my stories and overlap them with other peoples' experiences. To keep myself psychically pure and my novels original I kept my mouth shut and worked alone.
In theory, before 2008 I accepted that reincarnation might be possible. My thoughts on the subject were limited because I didn't really care. I was doubtful anyone could recall their past lives and when someone claimed they were the reincarnation of so and so I assumed they were either a fraud or just crazy. I once joked to a friend that if I lived in Egypt two thousand years ago I wasn't Cleopatra, I was her maid. I imagined when you are born we all started out in this life with a clean slate, so to speak, with no recollection of who we were before we were born.
Twenty years ago, I met a young woman at a restaurant. She was petite with red hair and blue eyes. When I saw her I instantly thought of a character I would write. At the time I believed it was inspiration, something a writer gets from time to time and nothing else. Why did I think my idea was snatched out of thin air? Why did I connect with the eye color and hair color of this girl and not her as a person? I didn't know the answer to those questions then, but I do now.
I started my third book ‘The Reincarnation Of Tess Hamilton” in 2007. It is the third novel in my series of books. For me to write any novel I need two years minimum. This book’s focus is on reincarnation. During the process of writing my latest novel I felt compelled to describe my central character Abigail Cantrell a certain way. She had to have blue eyes and red hair. It wouldn’t have been possible to write her any other way.
I am not plugging my books, or at least not in this article! What I am saying is that somehow my usual process of creating a character was sidetracked, or I should say hijacked. Why my character Abigail Cantrell struck such a cord in me?
To make a connection to the other side I have a routine in which I practice a combination of meditation and guided questions. These are questions asked not to the living but to the dead. During my meditation I posed the question of who was I before I was me. Nothing happened that afternoon, and in truth nothing usually takes place. Only once in a while do I get an answer. When I do it usually comes in sideways. I went to sleep that night almost forgetting what I had asked that afternoon. During my sleep I became aware, lucid with all my senses heightened and a feeling of anticipation swept over me. I wasn't in the physical world anymore but my body was. Astral projection has always been a sensitive subject to me. To make it simple and short I detached from body and traveled to another plane of existence. I will elaborate more in the next article.
I entered a place, or I should say I was drawn to this place. I met a woman, her face and shoulders were visible but not the rest of her body. As for her age she was over fifty. All I could make out was that she was a heavy set woman with brownish hair. When she spoke her voice felt sad. She said "I was your mother Your name was Eleanor. A jealous boyfriend murdered you in 1942!” For some odd reason, I did not react. Instead I felt a disconnection from the woman who bore me in a past life. I didn't get to ask questions instead. I was pulled back to my physical body and the event was over. A day or two later, I was standing in a swimming pool in the middle of the day minding my own business when a picture, that's the only name I can come up with to describe it, was presented to me. The woman in the picture was me! The face I saw was my own when I was Eleanor!