There are so many images that I get when I meditate that it's difficult to sort through them and find what is memory and what is symbol or premonition. Lately, I've been having flashes of a life as an opera singer, perhaps in Russia, in the 19th century or earlier. It's very vague. All I've seen thus far is first-person perspective, onstage singing an aria for a full house, SRO(!) I also see my leading man in blue, a deep shade, velvet material. I think it was velvet; it was shiny, a bit reflective. I was wearing a cream-coloured satin gown with gold embellishments.
Hi Maggie! Glad you started a thread, you can do some serious journaling and we can comment about it.
Do you sing presently? Like opera at all? I have to admit that I am clueless about opera...I only know I prefer men's baritone voices, not a high pitch.
Namaste
Sing? Me? Yes, actually. I was in the church choir, when I was still Catholic. In the 6th grade, I took Music, where we learned to read music, a little on instruments, and LOTS of singing. Opera, for me, is a part of me. I loved it from the moment I heard the first note. And that was when I was . . . . younger than seven, I think. It's just in the past few days that I started seeing myself on a stage, singing. Before, I'd seen myself up there, but acting or dancing ballet. So many of my memories have to do with stage work or entertaining.
OK, now I'll elaborate on the post from the other thread.
This morning, I got to see part of Zefferelli's Romeo and Juliet. That's probably my favourite version. In a way, it helped bring about a recollection I'd forgotten about. It's not much, just, I'm inside this castle or fortress in the latter half of the 14th century. It's one big room, like a banquet hall, with tapestries on the walls. Very high walls of greyish stone. It looks dark and feels cold. Cold as in lacking familial warmth. Like conditions were quite harsh then and maybe I was a servant.
One of the tapestries was blue, another, red. I can almost make out the crest, but not enough to be able to identify them. 
It looks rather like where I lived in what is, I believe, my first lifetime as a human. But that place was brighter, bigger windows, family and friends, true warmth.
Part of what made that second castle I mentioned so warm was my mother. I can remember being a very small girl sitting on her lap, playing with her mahogany hair. Sometimes she wore a gold diadem high on her forehead. My father was a warrior, strong and fierce in battle, so kind and loving with his family. Whenever he returned home from war, we would celebrate! 
He was a tall man, sort of ruddy hair, a full beard and mustache, big hands. I remember such happiness during that life, such beautiful scenery. It was somewhere in the British Isles, not sure where exactly. Maybe Mercia? It was so long ago, before Christianity really took hold in that area. I vaguely recall a ritual with candles, at night, hooded robes. Well, not robes, exactly. More like scarves or shawls. 
Were you into Paganism? Can you remember anything that has to do with Stonehenge? There's something eerie about that place, don't ya think?
When my father took my grandmother to visit her brother Frank Hajduk in Poland, I had a chance to tour a castle near the Russian border. It was beautiful, the most impressive part of the castle was the aviary, which brought me the most pleasant and awesome feelings. If I had ever lived in a castle...I know I would have spent most of my time there, watching the birds flit from one leafy plant to another. I didn't want to leave. I also loved the stable area. And speaking of castles, I've always had an affinity for the vampire 'love' story. Especially Bram Stoker's rendition...gave me goose bumps when the Countess leaped from the turret window, after she'd heard the rumor that her beloved Count had died during the Crusades. And when the Count came home from battle to find that she had killed herself, he cursed the Creator and blood ran from the altar. From that moment on, all that he wanted for the rest of his life was BLOOD. Life was no longer worth living so he wanted to kill everything in his sight...to draw the blood from all creatures, because he had lost his one true love. And in that very spirit...continued to come back, and experience the existence of a fruitless life...whoops, I'm taking liberties with Stoker's story line, adding my own imaginings. 
Sorry, heh, heh.
Stonehenge, eerie? No. When I see a picture of that area, it looks so beautiful. There was an episode of Digging for the Truth where Josh Bernstein went to Stonehenge to discuss the different theories of who built it and why. Anyway, at the end, he had gone back for the spring equinox, (I think. It could have been summer solstice) during sunrise. OMG! That was a spectacular sight! 
But no, I don't remember having been there, at least not that lifetime. I do remember lying on a stone, but that was just a couple of centuries ago, I think. I was wearing a corset then; it was somewhat difficult to breath with that darned thing, but I managed. So many lifetimes . . . .
This post was modified from its original form on 13 Dec, 11:20
It seems to me that I've spent a lot of my time as a woman. I do have this one memory as a man, a warrior, dying on the battlefield in the arms of my brother. I don't know if he was actually my brother or a really close friend or what exactly. Just that we were extremely close. I can remember asking him to take care of . . . . someone who was also important to me. My wife and children, perhaps? I don't even know what time period that was in. It's like a snapshot, just enough to give an impression of the emotion.
I think that if they dug a whole in the center of Stonehenge, they'd find a massive flat rock covering a sink hole, sort of like a bottomless pit.
Here's something that's bugged me for years. The first time I heard Dancing Queen, I got this really weird feeling. To me, it felt like . . . . well, my funeral. I could remember dancing, laughing with friends. I think my name might have been Aileen then, or something that sounds similar.
I think I've lived with wolves, or very large dogs, before. The impression I get with these memories is that it was a cold, snowy climate for most of the year. Maybe northern Scandinavia or Russia? There were reindeer around as well. Those were happy times. I can remember sitting at a pottery wheel, forming clay into a mug or bowl. The fireplace was on the other side of the room, and there was a man sitting at a table not too far from me. I think he was making or repairing shoes? He was balding, wearing spectacles, a white shirt, and a dark vest. Always ready with a smile and a warm hug for friends. Perhaps my father or uncle . . . .
I can remember tending reindeer then, and their antlers were immense! Such sweet creatures. Pets and friends, we didn't raise them for meat. But I think we did use their milk. That was long before pasteurization, and the milk had this interesting taste, thick, rich, and creamy. I had a butter churn, and my fingers would grow cold from churning and being away from the heat.
That would explain why my hands get so cold now! And my love for deer. They're fascinating.
I had this dream a couple of times in the past month; it feels like it could be a memory.
I was backstage at a theatre (perhaps that lifetime when I might have been an opera singer/dancer?) It was after a performance, and I had already changed out of my costume. There was a lot of red, walls, décor, red velvet. I was waiting for my husband or suitor to come with my coat/furs when this man comes around the corner. He was well-dressed, in a suit, looking impeccable. I figured he was a fan looking for one of the performers, so I smiled and said hello. Then I realized he looked vaguely familiar, like I had encountered him once or twice in the past.
Then, in a flash, as dreams go, he had me on the floor beside a fainting sofa or chaise longue. My husband was coming and the man was saying something about how other people had gotten in his way, that I was supposed to have been with him. That's when I felt the blade plunge into my chest, near my left shoulder.
In another flash, my husband was cradling me in his arms, begging me to stay with him. I was struggling to retain consciousness because I couldn't bear to leave him. His eyes were so clear and so blue, but full of tears at that moment. Someone else was there, he looked up to speak to them, but everything got blurry and then I woke up.
I can remember the feel of that cold knife piercing my skin and the blood flowing out of the wound. But mostly, I remember the feel of his arms around me and how it felt when he kissed me. The love we shared was incredible!
OK, I'm pretty sure I survived that attack. I can remember travelling all over the world. I can vaguely recall an oceanliner. Our cabin was immense and decadent. And, for some reason, it makes me think of chocolate, bonbons and truffles.
I was sitting on the bed, trying to get my boots buttoned (there was a long row of buttons up the side, the fashion then), but my left shoulder was sore. My husband sat next down next to me and put his arm around me, comforting me. He really was an amazing man. sigh
that was a great joke.
"Makes more sense than that stuff about the rib" 
How udderly typical, coming from a boo...er... a man.
Whoa, it's been a while! 
I've had this memory for a while: I'm walking through a rain forest, lush and full of life. It feels amazing!
In the distance, not too far away, I can hear drumming and chanting. The music is beautiful. Spiritual. Earthy.
I'm guessing/feeling that it's Central America before the Spanish Conquistadores.
I also feel like I wasn't alone out there, but like maybe I was supposed to be somewhere else, within the village.
