Something Older than Memory

Blog Post 11

Past Lives

The other day I was telling my remote viewing instructor about recent events with the ETs. We had talked in the past about the ships that came by and the conversations I’d had with them. She knew about the two samples that had been taken — a covert little operation clearly designed to happen without my awareness at the time. She already knew about the big cigar‑shaped ship that revealed itself to me a while back and had an interesting thought:

“Ask them if you’ve been up on the ships.”

“Great idea,” I said, so that day I primed them with my intent for that night. I told them I was going to ask some specific questions once it got dark, and I told them exactly what those questions would be.

Side note and brief recap: Whoever carried it out — the sample extractions — had intended for me not to know, at least initially. But later, when I asked, the ETs acknowledged that it had happened and that in itself is slightly revealing. Because now I suspect there may be different groups at play here, with different agendas and different levels of transparency. The ones who demonstrated the event to me in real time — and confirmed it afterwards — might not be the same ones who conducted the operation itself. I’ll explore that dynamic in a future post, because it opens up a whole new layer of complexity.

Anyway, later on after dinner I headed out there, curious to see what they’d offer up.

Question 1: Have I been up to the ships before? (I asked this twice, and I’ll have a look at the other questions in another post.)

A ship came over and was non‑committal. The data was inconclusive — a bit of wiggle left and right, indicating there was more to it. Okay, perhaps I wasn’t being specific enough. I was well acquainted with this style of response so I refined the question.

“Physical body.” — another waggle, indicating nearly, keep going.

“In this lifetime?” — No.

“In a past lifetime?” — Yes.

Whoa! There we go. Needless to say, a very interesting revelation. And the answer was the same both times I asked, just to be sure. A few ships were in the sky and I got a couple of blinks of confirmation.

If the answer is yes — but not in this lifetime — then it seems the phenomenon isn’t new to me. It’s old. Older than my current body and older than my current name and memory. And maybe that’s why they keep showing up like they do.

I’ve explored this concept of a consciousness moving to another body in the book, particularly Chapter 42 – Manipulation. It’s not a new concept here on Earth and that in itself might be worthy of a blog post. For thousands of years, human traditions have carried the idea that consciousness can move between bodies, resurfacing again and again in different cultures like a memory humanity refuses to fully forget, but many still refuse to acknowledge.

But the implication here is clear: my relationship with the phenomenon apparently predates my current identity. My lifetime may have just become part of a longer chain of interactions and familiarity, perhaps a long‑term relationship with a non‑human intelligence. More specifically, if I have spent time up in the ships as was indicated, I will have been comfortable with the life, the onboard systems and the crew. I will have had a specific job and sat within an organisational structure.

This is speculation, but the past‑life answer opens a door I really hadn’t expected to walk through. If I’ve been up in the ships before — but not in this lifetime — then the obvious question follows:

Who was I?

Who was I before this body, this name, and this identity? And where was I?

It’s not impossible to know — I just have to work out how to ask them about it. Was I human or ET? Was I a voluntary participant? Perhaps a contractor attached to the crew with a specific role? A being who understood their systems, their craft, their way of communicating and the job I was engaged for? It’s interesting to consider, but the revelation forces these questions.

If my consciousness has interacted with them before, then maybe the familiarity I feel now isn’t new at all. Maybe it’s partly remembered in a layer long buried. Maybe the ease of communication, the responsiveness to intent, the lack of fear — all of it — comes from a life lived somewhere else, in some other form, in close proximity to a non‑human intelligence.

And it seems entirely possible that the NHI was me.

I don’t claim to know who I was — yet — but this suggests that the phenomenon isn’t just visiting me. I think it may be recognising me and I have had this impression before. Did I have a job to do here? Well if I did, I better find out what it is and get cracking.

Perhaps my friend didn’t ask her question lightly. She’s heard enough of my experiences to recognise when something deeper was at play. She knew about the cigar‑shaped ship, and she knew about the surreptitious samples — the covert extractions that were never meant for me to notice at the time. We’d had extensive conversations before about the beings in my house, the puppet‑like manipulation, and all the ships I’d seen. She notices patterns long before I do, and she had begun to suspect that my connection to the phenomenon wasn’t new — it could be remembered. She had even mentioned this exact thing to me before.

I didn’t stop with my own question. I asked the ETs about my daughter as well — whether she had ever been up in the ships. I asked twice, just to be sure, and both answers were clear — No.

That was strangely comforting. Whatever continuity thread exists between me and the phenomenon doesn’t extend to her. She’s not part of my past‑life connection. She’s not entangled in whatever history I seem to have with them. Her experiences — the waving, the blinking lights, the excitement — are surface‑level, new, and not structural. She’s a witness, not yet a participant. And that distinction matters. It tells me the phenomenon is selective. It interacts with me because of something older, something remembered, something that predates my current identity. But with her, it keeps a respectful distance. It knows very well who she is — probably better than I do — and acknowledges her presence without involving her deeply.

So that’s where I’m at — apparently recognised and remembered, and apparently with some kind of past‑life job I now need to rediscover. You go outside expecting a quiet night, and instead you end up questioning your very existence. Certainly not for the first time, but not quite what I had planned after dinner.