av&hilfan90
New Member
First of all, I would like to say that I am not in any means trying to offend anybody in anyway by this post. It does involve sex, and I do know that some people aren't comfortable with discussing it or talking/hearing about it. However, I don't think that my thread is inappropriate in any way. I strongley believe that this is one of my past lives and would really like to share it and get some feedback!
It was late last night, almost midnight. I was still awake, sitting up in bed, unable to sleep because I was so stressed out. I was stressed and worried about normal highschool senior stuff: college application deadlines, scholarships, midterms, and tests. I started to go off into a daze, and at first I thought I was daydreaming but I know I couldn't have been. It was like I was right there in my memory. I could feel everything and could smell and hear everything. The memory was so vivid and detailed too.
The room was large, but dark. The floors were hardwood, with no rugs or carpets. There was a tall, big bed. The sheets on the bed were fancy, like silk or satin. Candles were all around the bed, scattering light around the room and onto the people on the bed. Long, heavy curtains hung at the window. They were dark colored. I could tell that the room was on the 2nd floor. There was a lot of noise from downstairs, talking and clanking of metal. The smell of food and coffee drifted up from downstairs. Overhead you could hear soft squeaking and creaking, maybe from walking? The view outside the window was as follows: a cobblestone street with horsedrawn carriages going up and down the street, tall brick buildings were across the street, and at the end of the strret you could only turn right. It was very bright outside, but there was dead leaves scattered on each side of the street.
On the bed there was myself and a man. I was in my mid-20s and the boy was between 19 and 22. I had long, thick, curly hair that was light color. I was pale and had pouty lips. I was skinny and had large breasts. The boy was very tan, almost the color of a light skinned mixed person, and he had short cut black hair and ice blue eyes. He was very well built and had big, strong hands. They were rough and cut, as if from working hard. We were making love. I remember that he was a wonderful kisser. He left a trial of kisses on my collarbone and up and down my neck. His fingers slid over my stomach and up and down my arms, leaving goosebumps. Throughout the whole love makeing I felt like it was wrong, yet right. As if it shouldn't be happening...
After this I was in some sort of a bathhouse. It was made of stone and there was one tiny window at the top of the wall that let in a stream of light. Hot water was pouring over my back and I was holding my hair up, so it wouldn't get wet. I remember that ringlet curls hung around my face and that I kept looking down at my feet as I showered. I felt guilty as the water poured over me. As if I had done something wrong.
I don't remember anything else from my memory/daze. There may have been more, but its just not coming to me. However, I did feel that I wasn't in America. For some reason I am being strongely pulled toward France. Perhaps it has to do with what happened in chorus today. Our teacher passed out a new song to the boys. It was French text. As soon as the pianists began to play the tune sounded so familiar. As if it were a part of me. Then my teacher started to help the boys with how to pronounce the words. I didn't even have a copy of the music and I was mouthing the words with her, pronouncing them perfectly. I have never took French before and I don't know anybody who knows it. I don't have any idea how I would know the words to that song or the pronunciation of the French words.
It was late last night, almost midnight. I was still awake, sitting up in bed, unable to sleep because I was so stressed out. I was stressed and worried about normal highschool senior stuff: college application deadlines, scholarships, midterms, and tests. I started to go off into a daze, and at first I thought I was daydreaming but I know I couldn't have been. It was like I was right there in my memory. I could feel everything and could smell and hear everything. The memory was so vivid and detailed too.
The room was large, but dark. The floors were hardwood, with no rugs or carpets. There was a tall, big bed. The sheets on the bed were fancy, like silk or satin. Candles were all around the bed, scattering light around the room and onto the people on the bed. Long, heavy curtains hung at the window. They were dark colored. I could tell that the room was on the 2nd floor. There was a lot of noise from downstairs, talking and clanking of metal. The smell of food and coffee drifted up from downstairs. Overhead you could hear soft squeaking and creaking, maybe from walking? The view outside the window was as follows: a cobblestone street with horsedrawn carriages going up and down the street, tall brick buildings were across the street, and at the end of the strret you could only turn right. It was very bright outside, but there was dead leaves scattered on each side of the street.
On the bed there was myself and a man. I was in my mid-20s and the boy was between 19 and 22. I had long, thick, curly hair that was light color. I was pale and had pouty lips. I was skinny and had large breasts. The boy was very tan, almost the color of a light skinned mixed person, and he had short cut black hair and ice blue eyes. He was very well built and had big, strong hands. They were rough and cut, as if from working hard. We were making love. I remember that he was a wonderful kisser. He left a trial of kisses on my collarbone and up and down my neck. His fingers slid over my stomach and up and down my arms, leaving goosebumps. Throughout the whole love makeing I felt like it was wrong, yet right. As if it shouldn't be happening...
After this I was in some sort of a bathhouse. It was made of stone and there was one tiny window at the top of the wall that let in a stream of light. Hot water was pouring over my back and I was holding my hair up, so it wouldn't get wet. I remember that ringlet curls hung around my face and that I kept looking down at my feet as I showered. I felt guilty as the water poured over me. As if I had done something wrong.
I don't remember anything else from my memory/daze. There may have been more, but its just not coming to me. However, I did feel that I wasn't in America. For some reason I am being strongely pulled toward France. Perhaps it has to do with what happened in chorus today. Our teacher passed out a new song to the boys. It was French text. As soon as the pianists began to play the tune sounded so familiar. As if it were a part of me. Then my teacher started to help the boys with how to pronounce the words. I didn't even have a copy of the music and I was mouthing the words with her, pronouncing them perfectly. I have never took French before and I don't know anybody who knows it. I don't have any idea how I would know the words to that song or the pronunciation of the French words.
