Past Life Memory - I Stabbed My Husband to Death
From: Your Favorite Sorceress, Love Cunt
I reached in my pocket and drew out a pair of scissors which I stabbed my husband with and he died.
I "awoke" to a room, like a hallway with doors, dressed in my normal daywear when some guy who felt familiar to me told me he was my husband. I laughed and thought he was nuts. He said "Pick a door from our past." So I opened a door and walked into a pioneer town. I was dressed in a yellow (I hate yellow) "Little house on the Prairie" style dress with a canvas apron. A sheriff came up to me who resembled someone I knew and told me, "We got him. It's all over." As I was saying "Got who?" I looked at the sheriff’s building there was the guy claiming to be my husband.
Just then, some girl named Polly showed up to tell me what happened because she assumed I was in such shock. Polly said that my husband had forced me to marry him and that he had killed my father after my dad and other members of my family tried to take me away from him. He ran and they caught him so that my uncle, the Sheriff, could hang him. I drew closer because my husband kept looking at me, there was something about him that pissed me off yet drew me in. As they were getting ready to hang him, they couldn’t find a rope long enough due to some earlier hangings in the day so they were going to strangle him. I was right next to my husband who surprising didn’t say anything to me,. He was too busy trying to get away when I noticed his hands were untied. He grabbed my uncle’s gun and was about to shoot him when I reached in my pocket and drew out a pair of scissors which I stabbed my husband with and he died. (I do own a lot of scissors, but then again I do teach children).
As he lay dying in my lap, he said, “I’ll be with you.” Then when he took his last breath, he disappeared and I was back in that room again with the creepy guy. He kept walking around me saying that we were meant to be together, While others have many partners and that we were meant to be together. I hurt him or he hurts me, we both die and life goes on.
Since that dream, I’ve had a few more with him from different time periods (Rome, 1700s, and medieval) and he always says things like, “I’m getting closer.” “Soon we’ll meet.” “I’m closer than you think.” Sometimes I don’t look the same as I am now and sometimes I looked the same slightly, but than again he doesn’t either. The only thing that stays the same is our eyes.
