by Utt, Kelly
“What did you remember, Mom?” Ali asks.
“I was a young girl in what would be considered the Wild West. My family was traveling in a covered wagon, and I died of starvation.”
“You sure you weren’t just thinking of John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath?” Liam asks with a tone of healthy skepticism. “Or maybe the old Oregon Trail computer game? That was around when you were in your twenties, right? I’m being serious. There are countless similar stories you might have heard. The power of suggestion is what’s real.”
“You’re right, Liam,” Marjorie replies. “The power of suggestion is absolutely real. But in my past life memories, there was a know-it-in-your-bones sense of having actually been there. There were sounds and smells and subtleties to anchor me. I’ll never forget the feeling of remembering being out West and looking down at my feet on the dusty ground. I was wearing shoes with little straps which were far too fancy to be in the dirt, but they were all I had. I remember thinking how bizarre that it was me, but in another time and place. And that here were my feet on the ground out West. I’ve never even been to the Wild West part of the country in this lifetime. The feeling in the memory was that I was still very much myself, just in a different time and place. It’s the same way I’d still be myself in California if I flew there next week. I’d be in a different time and place, as myself. Does that make sense?”
“Kind of, yeah,” Ali says. “It’s interesting.”
“Once I landed in the memory,” Marjorie continues, “it was like a rush of information swept over me. But it wasn’t given or sent to me from an outside source. It was more like it was always in me and was somehow unlocked. I knew I had two sisters. Both older. My parents loved each other deeply, even though there was tremendous struggle as part of our daily existence. I was the most delicate since I was the youngest and the weakest, so I was the first to deteriorate when food and water really became scarce. By the end, it had been weeks of very little to eat or drink. We went a couple of days with nothing at all, and my body stopped being hungry and thirsty. I remember my mother holding me and rocking me and fretting over me. She knew I was dying and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. It was terribly sad. I loved her and didn’t want to leave her.”
“Were you afraid?” Ali asks.
“Not really afraid, no. What stands out is the beauty that was my life there. I was so very connected to my family members. We were tight-knit. I was seen and appreciated and wanted. I remember watching sunsets with my dad while we cleaned our pots and pans after dinner. I remember my mom lovingly mending the lace trim on my dress with a needle and thread when it got torn. I remember playing and laughing with my sisters. It was a good and happy life.”
“Do you remember actually dying?” I ask.
“I do. It wasn’t painful at all,” Marjorie continues. “I sort of floated up and away from the scene gently and watched from above for a while. I’ve read that we take stock of the lessons and happenings of a lifetime when we leave it. I have a sense of having done that. I think the biggest takeaway from that life was that even though the conditions my family experienced were harsh and even though I didn’t live a long time, every day I did live was worth it because of the love we shared. And the beautiful earth. I wouldn’t have given up the good stuff to avoid the bad. The good stuff is what living is all about, you know?”
“That’s beautiful, Mom,” Ali says, moving her hand over her heart. “Did you recognize any of the rest of us there?”
“You know, Ali,” Marjorie says, “I did. But I don’t think I should tell that part of the story. At least not right now. I feel like it’s up to everyone to remember for themselves if they choose to do so.” Roddy shakes his head firmly in agreement.
“I get it,” I say. “Beliefs and experiences like this are so personal.”
“Yes, George, exactly,” Marjorie replies. “And to Liam’s point about the power of suggestion, I think it’s most impactful and authentic if everyone remembers for themselves.”
“So, Mom, what prompted you to remember all of this when you did?” Ali asks. “Did it just come out of the blue?”
“Yeah, I’d like to hear that part,” Liam adds. “You have me intrigued.”
“It was definitely strange,” Marjorie says. “I was actually getting a massage when the memories came to me. I was laying there on the table having my back massaged when it suddenly felt like I was tipping forward out of my body and into what looked like space. It was dark and there were white specks that looked like stars. It wasn’t painful or scary. Just peaceful. Then the Wild West scene flashed before me and I was pulled into it. And so then I was there. Well, I should clarify. I was still on the massage table and aware of what was happening around this physical body, but it was almost as if my awareness split and I was in two places at once.”
“Oh, that sounds like what some people describe as the third eye,” Ali says.
“Yes, exactly,” Marjorie responds. “It was like an entirely new level of seeing became available to me. Like it was always part of me, but I somehow suddenly accessed it.”
“And so you’ve remembered other lives since?” Ali asks. “How come you’ve never told me about this. I knew you believed in reincarnation, but I would have loved to have heard about your specific memories.”
“Yes, I have remembered other lives since. Quite a few,” Marjorie says. “I don’t know why I never told you, honey. I wasn’t hiding it. I guess I just wanted to let you come to me to discuss the topic if you ever wanted to. You know how I feel about allowing everyone time and space for their own discoveries.”
“I do,” Ali replies. “And Dad, you were aware of all this?”
“Yes, I’ve known all along,” Roddy replies. “Your mom and I were already married when the Wild West memory emerged and she began to explore the topic. I haven’t personally remembered anything yet, but I believe her. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Yeah,” I say, “I’m open to most anything if it makes sense and there’s some reasonable evidence to point to it as a possibility. There’s so much about life and the world and science which we didn’t understand until an advancement was made and then all of a sudden we did. You can go all the way back to Greek and Roman mythology to see how that has worked throughout history.”
“There’s some compelling research I can point you to if you’re interested,” Marjorie says. “There are a couple of classically trained and well-respected psychiatrists who come to mind who have focused their careers on past life memories. One is in Virginia at Ali’s alma mater, and the other is from the Northeast but based in South Florida.”
“So, Marjorie,” I say, “Let me be sure I have this right. You’re telling us you believe what Ethan said is true? That it really happened?”
“I’m telling you I think it is quite possibly true, yes,” she replies. “The Virginia psychiatrist works specifically with children who report past life memories, and Ethan is at the age when kids tend to start talking about having lived before if they’re going to. Not all kids do. But for the ones who have these memories, there are some consistent patterns.”
“Huh,” Liam says.
“Beyond that,” Marjorie continues, “quantum physics is beginning to suggest what many scientists believe is evidence that our consciousness creates physical reality rather than the old understanding of it being the other way around. If that’s true, we have to accept the likelihood that our consciousness lives on outside of these bodies and after death. Why wouldn’t we live here on planet Earth more than once?”
“I did hear something on the news recently,” I say. “Apparently, we might be living in a simulation. The theory isn’t completely unreasonable, in my opinion. I never thought about it as applied to past lives and reincarnation though. Fascinating.”
“Do some research,” Marjorie says. “There’s a lot out there. It will give you something else to focus on.”
“We definitely need that,” I say.
I f
igure it’s as good a time as any to tell them about Dad’s visit in the dream. We’re already on a similar topic. I know Marjorie will be receptive. And I know the others are open minded, same as me. I feel a little queasy though. I guess there’s a difference between being open-minded while hearing someone else’s unusual story and being open-minded and courageous enough to tell your own.
“Gang?” I query. “I had a strange experience right before the break-in I’d like to tell you about.” They look at me intently, probably wondering why it took me so long to mention whatever it is I’m about to share.
“Alright, go ahead, Georgie,” Ali says. “We’re listening.”
“I don’t know exactly how to explain it,” I reply, “but I’ll do my best.”
“Go on, George,” Liam says. “There’s nothing but love for you in this room. You can tell us anything.”
“Oh, I know. It’s not that big of a deal anyway,” I say.
“You’re kind of acting like it is,” Liam adds. “Go ahead. It’s okay.”
“So,” I begin, feeling subconscious about the whole thing. “As you know, we had all gone to bed Saturday night and were sleeping when the intruder came into our yard and leaned the ladder against the house and climbed up to the window.”
“Right,” Liam affirms.
“I was sleeping really hard that night,” I continue. “I guess I was exhausted from the move and even before that from the anticipation of the move. It was a relief to have all of our belongings safely in the new place and to be ready to start the rest of our lives in our new home, you know? We had just had such a good night at Yellow Cob, too. It was nourishing to the soul to be with Mom and John Wendell and to have everybody in town from New York City. When my head hit the pillow, I was out fast and hard. I thought everything was okay.”
“Same for me, Georgie,” Ali says. “It had been a long week of emotional changes and complicated logistics. We were whipped at that point and happy to be getting settled in.”
“Exactly. Here’s where the strange part comes in. I dreamed of my dad,” I say, pausing to gauge their reactions. “But it was more like I actually saw and communicated with him. Truly. I don’t think the word dream accurately describes what happened. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.” I see Marjorie’s face light up and I can tell she immediately understands.
“Was it the same as we’re sitting here talking to each other right now, George?” Marjorie asks.
“Yes,” I reply. “Only I knew I was asleep.”
“And you knew he was dead,” she says.
“Exactly. It was surreal. Hard to put into words,” I add. “He hugged me and it felt precisely like it used to.” I notice myself beginning to tear up now. I can’t help it.
“That’s great, George,” Roddy says.
“Yeah, Georgie,” Ali says, “that’s more than great. It’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you. Your dad sounds like he was an incredible man.”
“He was,” Liam says. “My big brother was one of a kind. I wish you folks could have known him. He would have loved you all.”
“I haven’t even dreamed of him in years,” I say, no longer able to hold back the tears. “I miss him so much.” Ali leans closer and wraps both of her arms around one of mine. I bow my head down and place it gently on top of hers as I cry. “I wasn’t ready for him to leave when he did. I had more growing up to do. I wanted him to stick around to meet my wife and children.”
“And your amazing in-laws,” Roddy adds with a smile. “Alec would have been a welcome part of this big, happy, extended family.”
“Yes,” I say. “For sure. He would have played racquetball with us, Roddy. He was ultra competitive when it came to sports. Racquetball was his favorite. Liam used to beat him sometimes and he’d get so mad. He’d want to try and go up against us, too.”
“I certainly wish we could have known him while he was alive, George,” Marjorie says. “But do you think maybe he’s still around? Like I mentioned at dinner on Saturday, I believe your dad is in a different form and different dimension now. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t part of us. I believe he’s watching what happens in your life.”
“Yeah, that’s what he seemed to be telling me,” I reply. “He showed me scenes, like from our wedding for example. I saw us in the wedding garden, Ali, but it was from a vantage point outside of myself. It was as if I was an onlooker standing some distance away and watching. Same for my high school graduation and several other important milestones in my life.”
“Wow,” Ali says. “That’s something.”
“I know,” I say. “I think Dad was telling me he was there and did see. It was a breathtaking experience. It feels weird to say, but I believe it was real.”
“Interesting, George,” Liam says. “I’d definitely like my brother to be around in some form like Marjorie suggests. He was my hero. I thought the world of him. In my eyes, he could do no wrong. The things we went through when we were kids…”
“I know, Liam,” I say after a pause. “You and I are in complete agreement on this topic. The two of us know better than anyone how dedicated he was to the people he loved. He would have done anything for us.”
“Sounds like maybe he’s still doing what he can, right George?” Marjorie asks. “Is there more to this story?”
“Yes, there is,” I say. “I think Dad warned me about the intruder. And woke me up.”
“What?” Ali asks, in complete awe.
“We were hugging each other and sharing memories when suddenly Dad’s face was right in front of mine and he told me it was time to wake up. He told me to be ready.” Ali audibly gasps upon hearing this. Liam looks more surprised than I think I’ve ever seen him. Marjorie smiles as if she already knew.
“What happened next?” Marjorie prompts.
“I woke up in an instant and was alert. I could feel that something was happening. I wasn’t sure what, but I waited and a few seconds later I heard Ethan scream. At that point, I leaped out of bed and got upstairs as fast as my body would move me. Can you believe I woke up a few seconds before I actually heard anything that was happening in the house? As hard as I had been sleeping, it probably would have taken several screams, at a minimum, before I would have woken up if it hadn’t been for the dream.”
“Georgie,” Ali says slowly. “That is comforting and terrifying at the same time.”
“Holy shit,” Liam says. “I’m dumbfounded.”
Roddy grins and gestures toward Marjorie again.
“What?” I ask. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“We didn’t know for sure and didn’t want to bring it up until you were ready to talk about the events of that night,” Marjorie responds.
“Goodness, what is it, Mom?” Ali asks.
“Roddy and I were awake,” Marjorie explains. “We had been asleep, but about half an hour or so before the intruder broke in I woke up to go to the bathroom. When I got back into bed, Roddy woke up and we, well, we made love.”
“Mom!” Ali exclaims, looking a little embarrassed. “I don’t necessarily need to know about my parents’ love life.” Liam chuckles and shakes his head.
“It’s perfectly natural, dear,” Marjorie continues. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Your father and I enjoy each other.”
“Okay, I get it,” Ali says. “So what did you hear from the boys’ room when the intruder broke in?”
“That’s the thing,” Roddy adds. “We didn’t hear anything at all until you were upstairs, George, banging on the door and telling Ethan you were coming to get him.”
“We were just laying there at that point,” Marjorie adds. “We wondered how you knew something was going on. We hadn’t heard even the faintest sound from the boys’ bedroom.”
“Wait, you didn’t hear Ethan scream before I came upstairs?” I ask, bewildered by this information.
“No,” Marjorie and Roddy say in unison. Ali covers her mouth, speechless.
“If we had heard
something sooner,” Roddy says, “I would have been there sooner.”
“I… I know I heard him scream,” I say. “Otherwise, how would I have known to get up there?”
“We wondered,” Marjorie says.
“Did you hear the van on the road or the ladder clanking against the back of the house?” Roddy asks me. “We know the intruder entered the window without shattering it, but we thought maybe you heard some other commotion that woke you up.”
“No, not at all,” I say. “It was the dream, Dad telling me to wake up and be ready, and then Ethan’s scream. Did you two hear a commotion outside?”
“No,” Roddy replies. “The intruder must have been very quiet. I’m telling you, we didn’t hear a peep until we heard you upstairs. There was no scream. I’m absolutely certain.”
“Come to think of it,” I say, “Lady was asleep on the rug by the front door when I blew by her on my way upstairs. She joined me when she saw the urgency of the situation. If she had heard Ethan scream, she would have been first on the scene. No way could she have stayed asleep while one of her boys screamed in distress. That dog clearly demonstrated her level of dedication to the family. Which means...” Chill bumps cover my entire body as the reality sets in.
“Damn,” Liam says. “I have no words.”
We all sit silently for a few minutes, processing this new revelation. This may be the single most remarkable thing to happen to me in my lifetime. I’d say there was definitely something at work which was supernatural or otherworldly or however else you want to describe it. There’s no logical explanation. I’m glad I told the others about my dream so we could piece everything together. There may be a whole lot I haven’t been attuned to until now. It’s going to take me some time to absorb what’s happened, but I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.
Leo’s still asleep draped over Roddy’s lap and Ethan is still watching his shows in the next room. We can hear the familiar sounds of Sesame Street in the background. Something else has happened I’m ashamed to tell the others about, but I know I had better go ahead and get it over with. My anger is becoming an issue I shouldn’t keep to myself. These people all care about me and will want to help. I could use some advice.