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Type:
Ghost, Reincarnation
Location:
Stevens Point, Wisconsin
Source: Archive X. Filename "Memories"
Reincarnation?
Memories of a Past Life
From: Tony
When I was 15 years old, my parents got divorced and my mother, 2
brothers, and I moved from Milwaukee to the small town of Stevens
Point. As this was a difficult time for us, and there wasn't much money
then, my mother took us for a weekend getaway once to an old
unoccuppied farmhouse in the country that a friend of hers owned. This
begins my story, which I don't often tell because I wouldn't believe it
myself if it hadn't actually happened to me.
When we arrived at the farmhouse, the first thing we did
was to explore the abandoned buildings on the property. The strange
thing that struck us was that nothing at all had been moved out of
there. Rusty old farm equipment still resided in the barn, old tools
were left lying about, and there was even an extremely old racoon pelt
stretched out by nails to dry, decades ago. (My brother still has this,
which to this day is evidence to myself that all of this occurred in
reality). Whoever had lived there several decades earlier had left very
hastily and took few
possesions.
As soon as we entered the house and began taking dust covers off the
old furniture, I realized, however illogically, that I knew this
place...very well. I began to ask my Mom when we had been here, and she
argued with me that we never had.
Undaunted, I walked around the living room and into the kitchen
remembering everything, except much newer. Before going into the
kitchen, I told her I specifically remember playing with my brother in
the woodbin in the kitchen, jumping in and out when we were little, and
being yelled at that it was dangerous. "What woodbin?", she asked, and
I walked in and pointed it out, but noticed how old and rotted it
looked now. I told her how her and Grammy used it to feed the
woodburning oven. I continued, running up to the sink yelling that
someone had removed the hand pump for the well water. Sure enough,
there was a hole in the counter at the edge of the sink where a hand
pump could have been mounted.
I went on and on leading my mother through the house, as if taking her
on a guided tour, until she was frightened to tears telling me to stop,
and that I was scaring her. She kept remarking that we had really never
been there before. That's when things got really weird. I turned to her
and asked her, completely convinced myself by this flood of memories,
if she didn't remember when I was drafted? I told her about having to
leave for boot camp and the teary goodbye from my childhood sweetheart,
and then returning on leave before being shipped to Europe. I recall
clearly painting my bedroom window with a gaudy blue and white
barberpole pattern, inside and out, all the way around the window frame
and sill, to the dismay of my mother, and promising to come back after
the war because I have to, so that I can paint it back the way it was
because it looked so awful. My Mom didn't believe me but promised she
would if we went into the bedroom that we hadn't yet toured, and see
for ourselves. I kept repeating that I'm home, I've finally returned
home after all this time.
We went into the bedroom, and my mother turned pale when she saw for
herself that the window was painted the barberpole blue and white
pattern, but was horribly cracked and peeled from weathering and age. I
went pale too, because my last memory came in... "It was World War I,
Mom", I explained. "I remember that I wore a brown/green wool-like
uniform, with high-top brown boots, and a platter-type helmet. And I
remember dying one damp grey day in a trench somewhere in Europe...
Mom...I never came home, did I?"
I never believed in reincarnation until then. To this day I've wanted
to return to Stevens Point and go to the Public Library and try to find
out who I was, at least what my name was.
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