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My memories

S&S,


I read the article and found it interesting. I also found it a bit uncomfortable since I had to stop my subscription to Discover Magazine in an attempt to get the telemarketers to quit calling me. I really liked that magazine, subscribed to it for years.


I have nothing to add to a discussion of Dark Matter since it would only be crude speculation. Since our souls are essentially bits of energy that is not seen or measurable that I know of, it could very well be that Dark Matter is somehow related to that form of our existence.


Interesting discussion; I just do not have information to add to it.


The math that I was thinking about is the ability to think in such a way as to see mathematical principles in concepts of creation and include all of the variables.
 
The reason I mentioned Dark Energy was to open the possibilities for almost anything to occur in our lives.


I mean, if our normal matter in the Universe only occupies 5% of the total mass of the Universe, and we see this small amount as the only thing in the Universe...well, anything is possible!
 
Agreed. Of course, not all that is possible necessarily "happens". Still, if we are correct in our suppositions, our continuance through a multitude of lives gives us a good chance of seeing a lot of phenomenal and incredible stuff!
 
Been a while...I'm on vacation in Bremerton, WA and was curious again about the fighter jet memory.


I found a picture of the jet that I had the experience with at the Smithsonian. They have changed the access to it. You can't get close to the cockpit anymore.


Read the description of the pilot:


Heinz Arnold (12 February 1919 in Flöha in Saxony – 17 April 1945) was a former German Luftwaffe fighter ace. He is credited with 49 aerial victories including seven victories claimed flying the Messerschmitt Me 262 jet fighter.


Arnold joined the Luftwaffe in September 1939, training for a technical role with the Kampffliegerschule at Tutow. Arnold began flying training in January 1940 with Flieger Ausbildungs Rgt. 12., before advanced training with Jagdfliegerschule 5 in late 1940.


Arnold was then posted to Jagdgeschwader 5 on the Arctic Front. He claimed some 42 victories during 1942–44, before transferring into 11 staffel, JG 7 to fly Me 262 jets. Oberfeldwebel Arnold claimed another 7 victories, (including five four-engine bombers) in March 1945.


Arnold's Me 262 A-1a (Werknummer 500491—factory number) "Yellow 7" was unserviceable at Alt Lönnewitz when, on 17 April 1945, Arnold took a replacement Me 262A-1a into an action from which he failed to return. Arnold was shot down and killed in aerial combat possibly by USAAF P-51 fighters, during a ground-attack mission near Großebersdorf in the Thuringer Wald area of Germany.


Heinz Arnold was credited with 49 victories, 42 victories over the Eastern Front. Of the 7 victories on the Western Front, 5 were four-engine bombers. All his Western front victories were claimed flying the Me 262 jet fighter.


Me 262 W.Nr.500491 bearing his personal victory marks is now on display at the Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C., USA.


Here it is:


deliveryService
 
There's a fairly good chance we'd all be speaking German if this plane had arrived about two years earlier in the war. While my favourite pursuit/fighter has to be either the p-38 lightning or the f4u corsair, the 262 is in my top 10 favourites of ww2. Thanks for sharing
 
Hitler did not allow production earlier because he thought the war would be over before it was ready. Yes, had it been operational sooner than it was the course of the War would have been different.
 
I recently returned from an extended road trip across the US...12,500 miles in 2.5 months.


I am going to look for some professional to help me recall these memories. I'll look elsewhere here for tips, but any suggestions?
 
As a small child, I used to have dreams about drowning in a cold sea. In those days there was NO television, just barely radio brought forth by crystal sets, and until I was actually forced to go to school, NO interaction with other children. I was raised by great-grandparents who didn't entertain anyone except "family," and they were just as old as my great-grandparents. I also drew pictures of strange-looking graveyards, unusual homes which weren't like any we had ever seen. I was told these drawings were just my imagination. After being finally allowed to go to school, by the 4th grade I saw houses that matched my drawings. They were Celtic. Some 30 years later I visited a psychic on a whim, and she said I am a very Old Soul who had lived many lifetimes. Then she said something very strange... She said one of my past lives I was a deck-hand on a slave ship, and had failed overboard and drown at sea before we reached the Carolinas. Then the huge wall of boards, the heavy chains clanking off the side of the wall that was being thrashed by waves, and the huge rope I kept trying to reach but never could before I drown, made perfect sense to me. However I also felt guilty to know that I had worked on a slave ship, because I (by that time) realized slavery was a terrible thing.

Many years later, after having an obsession with satin around the edges of whatever blanket was on my bed, (and I always bought green blankets), I had a dream wherein I was a tiny baby in a room with very high ceilings and stone floors that echoed when people walked across them. I was in a cradle, and what I know now to have been a wet nurse who nursed me after she opened the huge board windows above my cradle and I could look up and see the sky, then use a witch-type broom to shoo out the birds who occasionally flew in through the window and slew around the rafters above me. Once a day a beautiful woman wearing a satin green dress with bright orange hair falling down around her shoulders, would come in, her shoe heels clopping on the floor as she walked in and out and then away down what must have been a long stone corridor. I think I must have been her child, because she would talk to the wet nurse who always sat in my room when I was awake, and ask her how I was doing. This beautiful woman would reach down, caress my cheek, and I'd reach up and take hold of the long, green sleeve on her dress. It felt just like the satin borders on the blankets I still have to have, to go to sleep every night. I wanted her to pick me up, but I don't have any memories that she ever did. She would pull her sleeve slowly out of my fingers, and I loved the feeling of that satin slipping through my fingers just before she left. My blankets in the cradle didn't have the satin, so I cried before I went to sleep every night.

Eventually, I remember feeling hot and coughing a lot. People came in to check me, and one day some man in a robe tilted my head up and gave me something to drink from a small blue colored long piece of glass. I think it was supposed to help me, but I fell off to sleep and don't remember ever waking up again.

I always cry when I hear Celtic music. It seems to dredge up memories from long ago. I've always wanted to go to the British Isles, but I've never had the funds to go. Sadly, now that I can afford it, I'm not well enough to travel. I think I was born in a Celtic region, and perhaps when I was Baptized was the only time I could ever have seen an old graveyard and the houses I drew as a very young child. I suppose, when I cross over again, perhaps I'll get answers to these gnawing memories.
 
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