I have always been a dreamer. I dream each and every night of my life. Some good, some bad. Some bright while some dark. Really dark and mysterious. But from the last few years of my life, I have been the victim of very strange visions. Visions that I see at night. Visions that hit me in my dreams at that point when I am almost dead. When I feel nothing, except my skin. Not the one that I wear every day in and day out in this birth. A new one. It is at that moment when I start drowning, deep and deep inside the ocean of my own visions.
I have been experiencing these visions from the last few years actually. Visions that take me to a new place. Visions that make me feel that I have lived them each and every day of my life. As soon as I am completely drowned with an infinite layer of water above and beneath me, those images start hitting my head. I feel myself inside a body. A body of a small child. I ca n’t see his face, but everything else is visible to me. I can see my foot inside a Punjabi, Indian jute (footwear). I can see myself wearing a set of kurta and pajamas. I feel so free to move in this body as if it’s my own. I can smell the aroma of sugar cane crops, cow dunks, dry soil and fresh ghee around me. The temperature is really active today. The sun is shining brightly exactly above my head.
I wonder why it feels like I have been living here for ages. The sun is really familiar to me. I see women fetching water from hand pumps and children of my age playing with stones and chalks. With no doubt, this place in Punjab. A place where I have never been in my entire life.
Was this the introduction of my life before birth to me? I always wondered about these visions. I started spending every hour of my day thinking about that little boy in my visions. Who was he? Was it me? Was it my earlier personality? Has life something to tell me through these visions? Since then I had a strong desire to visit Punjab. But I never got an opportunity to do so. That vision disturbed my soul deeply. I tried a million ways to forget, a million ways to let go, a million ways to recall, a million ways to recollect, a million ways to figure the boy out, a million ways to consider that night as a drought, a million ways to carry on my occupation, a million ways to reconnect to the vision.
After the end of a couple of wasted months, I had that vision again. This time it was more appropriate and clear. The beaming light of the sun was no more there. This was an evening near the village river I suppose. A pale evening it was. I feared the water; I feared even going near to it. It seems that the boy is suffering from hydrophobia. Actually, it seems that my soul in the boy’s body is suffering from hydrophobia. The image again becomes hazy here. A few boys are playing, swimming and enjoying the river water. They even interact with me. They are showing a very positive posture towards me. I suppose they are my friends. As I sit on the river bank, watching my friends at a distance, I feel the thunderclouds approaching.
It’s now raining heavily. The water level has increased within seconds. The soil is no drier. The dim light from the sky had faded entirely. My friends are not there. As I tried to get away from the river area, I slipped from the wet soil and my body was taken towards the river at an increasing speed. I tried to retaliate, I tried to save myself, I tried to cling on to something, I lost all my grips and the water started swallowing me. Inch by inch. I shouted for my life and then to my mom. I don’t remember what was it but I shouted her name again and again. Even after my chest started aching. I kept on shouting and shouting. Every passing minute took my strength from me.
The image was almost blank when I saw a lady with a familiar face running towards me. “Help me maa… I’m stuck here for the last three hours. I’ve lost almost every percent of my body’s energy. I don’t think I’ll survive it. Help me, maa”, I cried. “I know son, don’t worry. Just hold my hand and stay calm. I will get you out of here I swear”, she said. “I’m tired”, I said in a low tone, “I won’t be long”. “Ssshhhhh…!” She said in a calm voice, “you are my hero, son. Don’t worry, I am just here and I’ll be with you whenever you need me. I promise”
As soon as the lady said her words, a strong wave came over me and hit her hard, pushing her apart. Everything faded away. The image after that was entirely blank. That’s the last thing I could remember.
As I woke up, the familiarity was clear to me. That lady was no one but my mom. What I realize is that that lady kept her words. She’s always been there when I needed her.
But at the very end, were my visions true? Was that boy me, or just my creativity? Was that my life before birth, or just my imagination? Is there a life before death? If yes, then will there be life after death? If yes, then will I remember the things I do, the family I live with, in my next life? If yes, then will I get the same women as my mother in my next life and all the lives after that? –Vickey Goyal
Copyright: ©2016 Vickey Goyal. All rights Reserved. 
Please let me know your views on the same topic. Is there a life before birth, or even after death?
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super awsome
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Thank you nishi for reading. I’m glad you liked it. 🙂
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