Past Life Reading

I'm not sure how to start this or where to begin. I am a 32 year old married, mother of 2 so needless to say, I'm fairly grounded and not in the middle of some emotional crisis. I suppose a light started being shed on my "issues" when a friend asked me to see a psychic friend of her mother's. After being convinced, and somewhat surprised, of his accuracy, I scheduled a past life reading.

I told my husband, before, that I knew I had been a prostitute in my past life and it had to have taken place in Paris or somewhere with gas lit, brick-paved streets. I could literally see it. This must have also been the reason I booked a train trip to New Orleans with my husband for his 37th birthday, along with a 4 night stay in a hotel that was previously a turn of the century brothel. It was the first time either of us had been and proved to be a mind-blowing step back in time for both of us, although neither of us knew why everything appeared to be so familiar. In high school art class I had painted several works from Toulouse Lautrec (spelling?) and fell in love with the movie Moulin Rouge. I told my husband I had a strange kinship with those women, so I wouldn't be surprised if I had been one in the past.

Well, as you would have guessed, the first thing out of my advisor's mouth was that I was a prostitute/madam in New Orleans in the 1860's. I was stunned. He further told me I had been a nun in the life previous to that and had "visions" that would return in my 30's (I was 29 at the time). Although there was much more to the reading that surprised me little, he told me to pay attention to my dreams.

Ever since I was a little girl, around age 9, I would log my dreams in a journal. They were sometimes so vivid and emotionally draining that I would be sick the entire next day. Finally, when I was 16 I realized, sitting at the foot of my father's bed while my sister (who was over for a visit) rubbed his feet, that I had dreamt that moment, down to the football game that was on the TV at the time. I ran to my room, grabbed my journal and showed my sister, who was in disbelief. I later forgot about the instance and abandoned my dream journal until the dreams started flooding back with a fury. In writing down one particular dream, I found it triggered a memory of another dream I had previously, and then another, and then another. After 4 hours of writing, a bad headache and a cramped hand, I had recalled and journaled over 60 dreams that took place over the previous several years. It was amazing and confusing all in the same.

My husband always laughs at my uncanny ability to read people and situations and attributes this to my "women's intuition". I was raised and am currently a devout Catholic, however, I know there is something going on that is unexplained. In the past several months, my dreams have become more vivid and I have begun reverting back to my artistic past and drawn pictures to go along with the dreams.

Upon a recent trip to Louisiana (last week) I was shocked when an overwhelming sense of Deja Vu hit me at dinner when I looked at a painting on the wall and it was of a room I had documented in my dream journal, right down to the red curtains, palm leaves, lounger, etc. I told my husband who was surprised, but frankly, in disbelief. When we returned home from our trip, I ran to my journal, before the garage door even shut, and showed him the entry. He just stared at me and pointed to another picture I had drawn of a hole with a brick wall built around it with a body of an injured soldier in it and stated "Isn't that the well we found on the outskirts of the plantation we were staying at?". Indeed, it was, although it wasn't a "well" in my dream, in comparison with the photo I had taken, it was a dead ringer.

In writing this story, my mind is being flooded with images of past dreams (people and places) and is starting to become overwhelmed. I'm almost scared to fall asleep sometimes. One night I awoke to find what appeared to be a female face staring at me from the side of our bed. It was golden and glowing with an almost softness much like ancient Roman statues. When I shot up in bed and gasped, it disappeared. I don't know the significance or relation of any of this and am frankly so confused I don't know who to turn to or ask. Like I said, I don't know what is happening to me or if I'm cracking up, and no one can give me any advice, including my church. Nothing bad has happened, but I just want an understanding so I can grow and use any gift I may have. That's my story. Thanks for reading it.