On the Other Side

Memories of a past Life

How did the memories of my past life appear in my present life?

Everything began with a childhood dream that I had several times per week. I found myself in a passing room of a beachfront home with wooden shutters letting in intense afternoon sunshine. The sea lay in front of me, somewhere outside the house. I felt great to be there, and I knew it was my home. I felt like this was my home, on an island in a hot and sunny climate. But where exactly was it?

I fell in love with the Spanish language when I was 18 years old. It wasn’t a language I could use daily, but I felt fulfilled when I spoke or read it. Latin American music has been and continues to be an important part of my life. When I was younger, I used to dance and listen to it. Was there something there that I didn’t see?

When I was 20, my first dream was almost over. I had a new one. It was so vibrant and genuine that it stayed with me for days. I saw myself rushing through the forest with a blond man who was my life partner, someone I cared deeply about. It was also the first time I could see my own features in a mirror while being held. Then I saw the scene in which I was shot and killed. I saw my body in my husband’s embrace, followed by my movement away from him. I was outside my body, viewing the spectacle until I decided I didn’t want to stay.

I already had a few leads. I understood it was an exotic island where Spanish was spoken, Ama was of Afro descent, and I was a mulatto. My spouse was of foreign origin, and I was living on an island where both Spanish and English were spoken. Time passed, and these thoughts faded from my memory.

In 2016, I decided to travel to Cuba. Why Cuba? It was the only place that truly captivated me. Being there made me recognize the places, the landscape, and the emotion in the air, and I felt at ease again. Even more frustrating was that I couldn’t fit in with the natives. I was seeking something, but I had no idea what. I was viewed as a stranger, and I no longer resonated with them. I once found myself in a covered square on a Havana side street. No tourist would have gone there. When I came into direct contact with the lives of the villagers again, a sense of déjà vu struck me. I returned home full of remorse and regrets but couldn’t explain why. I knew something was there.

During my pregnancy in 2018-2019, ghosts appeared with new images of their past lives. Images would appear when I was trying to fall asleep. So, I imagined myself as a little girl playing on the beach in a red frock with white dots, with Ama, my nanny, calling me in. That’s when I realized I had slender arms with dark skin. My initial step in researching past lives was to see if this Ama name existed and, if so, in which section of the world. Then I acquired images of my father, Don Carlos, from that time. Blond, blue-eyed, and occasionally a tragic profile, we both had a close and precious connection. I adored him.

As a brunette with dark skin, I knew I couldn’t resemble my father. I had the impression that everything began with my mother’s birth, which was unusual because I did not miss her. However, I absorbed Ama with my mother. Then he showed up. My life partner. I already knew his hair color, that English was his first language, and that he had ties to the army. No additional details emerged until 2021, leaving me in a condition of despondency or, at times, ready to accept them. When there were no recollections, my pragmatic thinking dismissed them as vivid imaginations.

However, when I began to investigate some of the information of the past life, such as checking the information received in my memories by my partner Richard about military missions in other parts of the world, checking the clothing worn on various occasions, and examining the political climate in Cuba between 1919 and 1930, I discovered that I had been reliving true world history.

I will not go into further depth, but I welcome you to read the first few chapters of the book and learn more.

It’s a small world. Le monde est petit
Interview with Adria Sanders