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Reincarnation Stories
Was I An African Slave?
 

When I was a child, my parents would take me to church every Sunday. They were devout Catholics, living in South Carolina. Our congregation was entirely white, and I had no black friends.

When I was about five years old, our priest was talking to my parents. Throughout this conversation I grew fidgety and uncomfortable and eventually I started crying. This happened every time my parents talked with the priest. One time, during one of these meetings, I blurted out "white devil!" at the priest, and then ran away. Obviously, my parents were rather worried about my behavior.

When I was slightly older, my parents had me do gardening as a chore. I refused to cooperate every time I was told to help out in the garden. With every other chore I was fine, but I simply could not bring myself to do any kind of gardening. Every time I was forced to do that chore, I felt a searing pain in my back as if I was being whipped.

One night, I was awakened from a nightmare by my parents. They told me I had been shouting in an African accent: "Don't hurt me again!" Ever since that night I have had many visions of hard labour, cotton fields and a great big wooden ship. Some nights I see a burning crucifix, and ghostly white figures. I wake up with chafed wrists; coincidentally, I have birthmarks on both wrists.

Things came to a head when my parents were watching a TV documentary about slavery. Apparently, although I don't remember doing so, I looked at the screen when images of slave ships appeared and said, "That's how I got here."

I believe that I am the reincarnation of an African slave from the early 19th century. This revelation has scarred me for life. I am white.

Liam Calb
Please respond to: john@beyondreligion.com


Posted March 24, 2013