Timeslip and Past Life Regression
By Michelle Jones
Timeslip
By
Michelle Jones
It is a hot summer’s day in 1998 and I am walking up the footpath on Windmill Hill in Clanfield, Hampshire. I don’t really know what I am doing here, but I know I have to walk up this hill!
This hill has always held a strange fascination for me, I have been gazing at for over two decades, and every day it is different, depending on the weather, or the crop, or the light.
Since 1992 I have been driving up and the A3 alongside the hill, on my 18 mile round trip school runs!
Then one day, in 1998, as I drove past, I noticed that there was a white car parked at the bottom of the hill. I noticed the footpath running up to the top - now why had I not noticed it before?
I told my husband, Phil, when I reached home, about the car and the footpath and he got the maps out - and sure enough there it was!
From that moment, I became a bit obsessed with walking up the hill…I would drive past it and think - “Tomorrow I shall walk up there”, but as a busy mum, there never seemed to be enough hours in the day and I had to wait another 5 months to get my wish granted.
So here I am, it is August - the weather is gorgeous, little fluffy clouds scudding across the sky, the linseed crop out in bloom in the fields on the hill, all pretty blue flowers like a swaying sea. The chalk is so white it is blinding, on the path and between the stalks of linseed and it is just so hot! I am beginning to wonder whether I have lost my marbles…
I really am perspiring heavily by now…There is a bush halfway up and I stop to catch my breath, turning around to survey the view of the A3,,,
…and it is gone! The A3, with its constant stream of cars and lorries, is gone, So has Clanfield…a large village on the other side of the road, all I can see are the Downs, rolling away, unbroken by any signs of habitation. The air feels distinctly cooler and has a strange feel to it, fresher. There are no sounds of the late twentieth century to intrude on the silence either, just the sound of the breeze as it tugs at my hair and insects lazily buzzing away…I notice that the linseed crop has gone as well, replaced by small bushes, gorse and scrub.
To say that I was amazed - and not a little scared as well - is something of an understatement, I remember just standing there staring at the sweep of the hills. I cannot say exactly how long I stood there for, it felt like seconds, or minutes, or a lifetime - but then something made a noise behind me - I turned and…
…the twentieth century burst back in - the heat quite literally shoved me backwards and I stumbled, the noise seemed overwhelming and the air so much thicker, so much heavier somehow. I sat down suddenly, gasping for breath, trying to take it all in, trying to make some sense of what had just happened.
I was shaking as I drove home, I told my husband what had just happened and he then showed me a map with the footpath on it. We had been looking for a place called Snell’s Corner - we had just recently gone online at home and I had been searching through the local archaeology records to see what there was locally as I have an interest in ancient history, particularly the Iron Age. I had found references to an ancient cemetery at Snell’s Corner. It had been discovered when the A3 was being widened, back in 1947 - but I couldn’t seem to discover exactly where it was. As it turned out it was very close to bottom of the footpath up Windmill Hill.
A couple of months passed and I was offered the chance to do a past life regression. I had always been a bit sceptical about these - after all, how many reincarnations of Cleopatra can there be? - But I decided I would do it.
I settled down onto the couch and the therapist began the procedure. It was a very strange sensation, I felt as though I was going up and up and up into the stratosphere and out into space…and then down and down and down again, until I found myself standing on a green field in front of a huge open barn with a wooden house in the distance, across the field. I was holding some sort of farm implement, like a pitchfork in my right hand, I knew I was a man - and somehow I knew I was in America. All of a sudden I began to panic, I could feel it rising up in my throat - I began to scream and cry out -“The soldiers are coming, the soldiers are coming!” I knew that something very bad was about to happen and I started running as fast as I could for the house in the distance. I was screaming and crying on the couch too - and the therapist asked me to go back…
I then found myself on horseback, riding sidesaddle. It was a dark and stormy night (as they say!) and I was riding very fast with little concern for my safety, to get away from my father and meet my lover! Unfortunately I fell off the horse and once more the voice of the therapist told me to go back…
Now I am in a horrible place, it is an incredibly overcrowded cell. I know that I am in Bodmin Jail, in Cornwall. I am female and I have been charged with a crime I did not commit. I have been charged because the local landowner, for whom I work, wants rid of me as I am carrying his child. I feel an overwhelming sense of despair and once again the therapist sends me back.
This time I find myself sitting on a hillside. It is a summer’s day and the breeze is tugging at my hair, blowing it around my face. I look down at my hands and they are brown with the sun, gnarled with age and scarred by a life of hard work. I am a man again. The view is so familiar to me, the rolling sweep of the downs, and the glimpses of the Solent sparkling in the distance. I am sitting on Windmill Hill in exactly the same spot as I had stood when I had the timeslip experience, two months previously.
I felt incredibly content, I knew that I had brought my family safely here from somewhere further north; that they were safe, and settled now.
As I sat and gazed at the incredible view, totally at peace, I felt my soul lift out of my body, and I passed over into spirit.
The therapist now brought me gently out of my trance. I could remember everything so clearly, the trauma of the first three lives, followed by the sense of peace in that earliest time. I reviewed the experience with the therapist - I was amazed at what I had just been saying - if I was going to ‘make up’ a previous life, I would not have come up with one of these scenario’s let alone all four! The therapist was amazed too, she had been trying to get me to go back within each lifetime, to before the trauma, so that we could see what had led up to those events - but I had just kept on going back in time to earlier and earlier lifetimes!
I have had psychic and spiritual experiences throughout my life - the earliest occurred when I was just 3 years old - but these experiences in 1998 have given me a reason for why I feel so at home where I live, and why certain places up on the Downs feel so familiar. Although I had always vaguely believed in reincarnation I am now a firm believer in it and Past life Regression, when carried out safely by a competent therapist of course! I still walk up Windmill Hill every now and again, but I have never had a repetition of that incredible timeslip experience on a hot summer’s day - but if it happens again, this time I shall know what to expect…I wonder if my digital camera would come with me!
Copyright Michelle Jones www.pennymoon.co.uk March 2006
Michelle Jones is a writer and author on Spiritual, Paranormal and Supernatural issues, Spiritual Development Teacher and resident Psychic Medium for Dark Encounters, a Paranormal Events company. Abridged article published in Chat-It's Fate Summer 06
This article was posted by Michelle Jones
