Thursday, February 3, 2011
Taplow Court in the 1840s.
I went to see a past-life hypnotist back in 1989. This session, my second, happened to bring up quite a few hits that I've since documented via my research:
Cottonwood trees, rutted road, big stone house, trees on one side with ornamentation on the corners, square white sash windows, gray, interior is dark wood. Breakfast table from Dangerous Liaisons. Big rose-colored satin/silk/taffeta swishing dress. 1750, young woman, brown hair, stiff knot-looking hairstyle on sides of head, embroidered front of the dress, flat-chested. Mother is very young. Big dark thick table. White dirty stable. Winter? (He’s wearing a) white shirt, long hair, longer than I thought, dark, rich, reddish-brown, stockings, blue breeches, hair has a cowlick in the front, dark skin, taller than I thought. I’m obsessed with him, and it’s not a good feeling. He’s not nice to me. See piano slam. He’s a passionate person, temper tantrums out of nowhere.
Medieval looking house with dark, oak paneling, Elizabethan interior, outside is rough stone, stucco is dark gray color. Older father, fat guy with a wig into hunting. Feel that I don’t know the father, he doesn’t speak to me. Stay out of his way. He’s in government in London. This is earlier 1700s. I’m in Southwest England, twenty miles from London.
The staircase from Batman. He plays piano but he has a lot to do with horses. My father is speaking to him. He must be a friend. He’s very sure of himself; he’s come from London. He walks around the house arrogantly with graceful gestures. He wears a sword; he’s a rake, not a musician by living. He’s here to visit another man, not my father – they ride together. I go with them sometimes. I’m the younger sister. They don’t want me around. He fools around with me, but it’s secret.
In front of a window that goes down to the floor. I’m upset, really depressed about him. Arms folded in front of me. I went to another house on a hillside, to another man, a husband, some years later – a man with a library. Had children with him. It was an impassionate marriage, polite but bored with each other. I died abruptly, not in my house, but an accident while driving; it was an accident on the road, but not necessarily a broken wheel. Turning around abruptly and screaming.
This session seems to describe Taplow Court, for it was a gray stucco-covered house in the 1780s and ‘90s, and quite outdated on the inside. It lies roughly twenty miles from London, although more west than southwest. The stable I saw was probably at Ellesborough, and the dark complexion on Thomas would be correct if he’d just spent over a year aboard a ship on his way home from China. In Calcutta, he did have a lot to do with horses, and once again, the arrogance shows itself in these earlier regression images, for I keep describing him so. And of course Thomas was of noble blood, but still forced to work for a living – not only at music, but at selling coal, too – and to hide his true paternity from the world. He could have known Dr. Wells before Mary, and he and Mary certainly could have ridden horses together around Cookham.
If you'd like to remember your past lives, take a look at my instructions for past-life self-regression and self-hypnotism.