Last night I had another dream from World War II. If I believed in past lives, I’d swear I was killed in the holocaust. Which would also explain why I’m a Jew now, I must have felt if I was murdered for being one, it was worth hanging on to. This time I was the mother in a family and we had to split up. We went into hiding but then had to come back to the house a month later for something. I remember trying to grab things I wanted to keep for my younger sister like baby clothes or a beloved stuffed animal because I knew the house would be ransacked later. There I found all my other children, they’d had to come back because they had no where else to go. So we decided to just stay there and celebrate Christmas together (don’t ask me why Jews were celebrating Christmas.) But we decorated the tree and found an orange in a stocking. I remember realizing how precious the orange was because we were in Europe and they weren’t importing oranges. At the same time, there was some acknowledged fear as we knew the soilders could come and take us away to kill us at any moment but we were going to make the moment we had special.
Dreaming About the Holocaust Again
I honestly have not been studying the holocaust lately. I don’t think I had these dreams growing up when I was reading anything about it I could get my hands on, alright, that has never changed. I did read a book a little while ago that talked about saving the Yiddish books so perhaps that is it. Still, these dreams are emerging like figures in the smoke. Things that were always like silent sentinals in my life standing guard over me, reminding me of who I was when I didn’t even know who I was. Only as an adult did I find out I was a Jew with family murdered in the holocaust. I think it was something I always knew way down deep inside beyond explanation. When I told my older sister about this, it made sense to both of us. She, not being a reader, would watch whatever shows she could on the holocaust. We never knew that about each other. Kind of weird huh? Actually, it’s a little creepy but also is one of the things I love best about myself. I am proud to be a Jew.
I am not convinced that past lives is the best explanation for apparent memories from the past.
Though information and experiences I think may pass through time and be perceived by people. I think it is the past reaching out to communicate with people so that people in the past are not forgotten.