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My mother and I both have recurring dreams we tie to past lives.
In hers, it is a quiet simple dream: she is a child walking through the forest hand in hand with a much older man she knows is her grandfather (yet is not HER grandfather). They are dressed as if it is the 1800s.
In mine, it is a violent death: I drive off of an unfinished bridge, plummeting to my death by drowning, unable to get out of my car. I am driving a very old car (think 1920s or earlier, even).
Both of us have had these dreams more times than we can count. And yes, both of us believe in reincarnation.
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If I am not better, at least I am different. --Jean-Jacques Rousseau
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