I’ve been dying to write about this and afraid to write about this all at the same time.  Scared because if someone told me ten years ago they were hypnotized to go to a past life I would have inwardly rolled my eyes and listened to their story, filled with judgment. Excited because just maybe if I had someone tell me about this ten years ago, I would have been intrigued and started asking questions.

This is my blog, these are the pages of the book that is this life for me.  As I’ve said before and will again, many times throughout this lifetime – If you don’t like it, feel free to move on.

I would love to be able to express clearly how it felt for me when I did my first past life regression. I will make every effort to do exactly that without overwriting myself into boredom.

We started the session by discussing what I would like to accomplish by doing a past life regression. I understand that the more specifically you name that, the easier it is to do it. I asked him to take me to a life that has a significant lesson for me that I can apply to this life and this time in my life. Once I was fully relaxed and “in deep” as P says, he had me go into an elevator and go down into The Hall of Doors. He named it but didn’t tell me what it should look like. My elevator opened to a wide hallway that looked like a hotel corridor. All the doors were red, none marked in any way. He asked me to walk to the door I had come here to see. I knew it was the third door on the right, it was the one I had looked at right when the elevator doors opened. I found that so interesting since they all looked identical. I opened the door –

“Tell me what you see.”

I’m barefoot standing near the top of a hill looking toward two distant mountain peaks. The grass is tall and there are wild flowers. I smell them and the grass and the clean air. I can see my feet but nothing above them, I know I am female, very early teens. {I thought, I must be so happy to be young and be here in this beautiful countryside} but there is something standing in the way of any happy feeling. My heart feels heavy, I’m not upset or angry, just heavy. {All guided by P} I look around to see if there is anyone else I can see or hear, any people or animals, any movement at all. I know I am completely alone. I know the house is behind me but I can’t see it from here.

For lack of more practiced terminology I’m going to call these spaces Jumps – When it seems there is nothing more to see or learn from a moment, P will encourage me to go to another time in this life that has something to show me. Here we Jump

Inside a house. It’s very dim, the walls are rough and dark, no windows or window-like openings that I can see. The fireplace is huge, around it and in it are rough fire tools and what look like pans. Everything on that wall is covered in black soot from the fire. The fireplace itself is big dry stacked rock. There is a long table that also has a rough surface, worn, not dirty but dark, and rough, uneven benches for seats. Everything very obviously handmade. Looking around there is no decoration, nothing I can see that doesn’t serve some utilitarian purpose.  I’m the same age as I was when I first came into this life. It’s warm in the house and there is no fire going. P asks if there is anyone I can talk to inside, I responded without a thought, “No. There’s no one here, I’m alone” “Maybe you could go find them and”   I interrupt him, “I think they are all dead. My family is dead.”  {Tears start streaming down my face.}

P directed me to calm down and reminded me that I’m just here to witness, “You don’t need to relive anything hurtful from this life. We’re just here to watch a movie, you don’t have to feel it.” {More tears} “I’m alone, my whole family died.”

I have to add a side note here – all the things I’m learning about being an empath are showing up here. I wasn’t upset because I was experiencing the devastation of  my entire family dying, I was the movie theater crier, completely engaged in the emotional heartbreak of what I was witnessing.


I’m older, sitting in the house. {Tears still streaming} There is a small fire and it’s really dark.  My feet aren’t bare anymore, they are bundled in a material I can’t identify, stiff but comfortable. The only sounds I can hear are the fire and some animals, close, rustling around in hay or straw or some sort of bedding. No vocal noises from the animals, no whinnies or clucks or moos but the movement sounds were big. Not as heavy as horses but not chickens either, if you get what I mean. I poke my head out the door to the blackest night I’ve ever seen with a breathtaking number of stars, it’s chilly but not cold, there’s no snow. P gently, “Is there anyone you can talk to?” The answers just come, “I told you, they died.” P, “Does anyone come to check on you?” “Everyone I’ve ever known is dead.” P, “Can you leave here and go to where there are other people?” “It’s too far, I’ll die.” I’m lonely and alone and very heavy-hearted. I’m beating myself up for something to do with their death. The way they died or perhaps that I couldn’t save them. Maybe because I didn’t get to go with them. I’m alone and know that’s just how it will be.


I’m much much older, sitting in the same chair, my entire body hurts. {Fresh round of tears} No one is here with me. Same surroundings, same same same same. P, “If you were to speak, what language would it be?” “It’s been so long since anyone has spoken to me, I don’t have words anymore. P, I’m dying, and I’ve spent my entire life alone and angry at myself. Doing what I needed to in order to stay alive and just wishing for the time when it’s finally my turn to die.”  {breath catching now and tears dripping off my face}

P lifted me out by bringing me through a series of increasingly fine screens (about 10 of them) Until all the tears had dried up. Clearing all the negativity and pain that I experienced there and leaving me with the message I went for. P and I sat and talked and he held me for about an hour after. I’ve done a bit of research based on the things I saw. The tools, construction of the house, fireplace and furniture, the climate and the mountains. I’m fairly certain I know roughly where and when I was and what happened to my family. But that’s not important. What is:

Forgive yourself and let go of those things that are out of your control.