A case for karma
I know many people scoff at the idea of reincarnation but it’s something that has been a big part of my life since I was a child (5–6 yrs old), it was not taught to me nor was it talked about in my Mexican Catholic neighborhood my inner self taught me all I know
I don’t know when I started dreaming about other lives or other facets of my soul during this time period. I did start remembering much of these dreams by the time I was around five
The first that has stayed with me since then was being in Egypt and walking through the sandy, dusty desert to a burial ground for my mothers internment. I knew then it was the same person I called mother in this life and I jumped up and ran to make sure she was alive. None of this made sense to me-yet
Over the next weeks and months I saw myself as a black teenager and a white young man nearly the same age as I was and as different as they were I knew they were both me. I don’t know the black boys name but the white one was called Michael and he was by far the best of us
Eventually I came to know I had killed, poisoned my mother in that long ago life. I didn’t have any great anger against her then. What I did have was an older man/lover that kept urging me to kill her
He was in love with me and we would marry and when she died her money and property would be mine. He just didn’t want to wait and I was so crazy about him I would do anything he asked me do she died knowing I was her killer
In this life she said she was afraid of me even though she was a six foot tall, big boned woman and I was short and skinny, the kids at school called me Olive Oyle and I heard all the skinny jokes.
My former lover was my father this time around and a gambler that killed a man while robbing his business. He spent the rest of his life in prison. I did not learn of his existence until he was dead and started haunting me
I came close to killing my mother again this life, I would have used poison and I thought my excuse was her physically and verbally abusing me. I was 11 when I killed her in Egypt and the closer I got to that age the greater the tensions grew between us.
Eventually I made the decision to run away and when I was caught I became a resident of LA juvenile hall. Every time they started talking about me going home I’d do something to prevent it from happening
I was straight forward and let them know I would not stay with her. They could send me to an aunt or a foster home but if they sent me to her I was gone again. I spent over four years in several juvenile facilities until she relented and gave her permission for me to live with her sister. Her secret was out I knew about my father and he was now dead so there was nothing left he could tell me about her unless he wanted to visit me and I think he did drop hints and now she is dead too, 31 years dead and she’s had nothing to say in all this time which suits me just fine
