have no recollection of this. But my mother told me
from the time I learned to talk until I was about four
or five, I told her stories everyday about my "other
mother" and my brother Michael.
thought that I was just using my imagination and making
up stories, until one day I came to her and said "Mommy,
I died today." She asked me how, and I told her "I was
having a baby. My baby didn't want to come out, and
we died." After that, I didn't tell her any more stories
or even mention my "other mother" again.
I read somewhere that our birthmarks represent how we
died in our past lives. If that's true, I have a huge
birthmark on my stomach.