There is a bit of history to my nights in Old Paris, but
first play with me and pronounce it in French- “pair-ee.” Yes, that is much more fun!
It was 2011, and I sat with my sons
in a movie called Hugo. The movie was
set in the early 1930’s in Paris .
In one of the scenes, French music was being played in a café. My son turned to
me and whispered. “Mom, how do you know the words to this song?” At that point,
I hadn't even realized I was singing along.
Shortly thereafter, I saw another
movie set in early 19th century Paris , this time alone. I sat strangely detached and wide eyed,
holding my popcorn and diet coke (neither of which was consumed) as the
recognition became stronger. The streetscape was comfortingly familiar;
cobblestone roads lit by gas lamps. I had visited this place many times in my
dreams—for more years than I could remember.
On the way home that day, I stopped
at the grocery store. I recall walking out empty handed, and standing confused
in the parking lot. My car….what was it? Where was it? I walked aimlessly
through the parking lot, unsure of what I was looking for. I realized I held
the key fob in my hand and thought to hit the red button. Across the lot, I
heard the horn blaring and the headlights flashing. “The Subaru…” I thought to
myself when I saw it. Safely in the car, I made the short drive home, noting to
myself that this is why I might be a candidate for a facility in my older
years….
That night, my dream state lit up
like the fourth of July, and when I awoke, I knew that I wasn't losing it the
day before. I had been straddling two realities; a “door” had been cracked
open, and within the dream state I was flooded with memories from another lifetime.
I played the piano, and very well. I had a small white dog. I was a bit of a
socialite, though I wasn't clear on the source of my standing. Was it purely
economic or talent?
I found myself there again last
night - in Paris -
walking along the gas lamp-lit street with a young man. I could see my dress
shoes and my skirt with its layered flounce at the bottom, and I laughed
flirtatiously while we discussed a story printed in the news.
Unlike the reincarnational story
that became Timeless Waters, I have
no idea what message, if any, that lifetime in Paris holds for me in my present reality. It
is, though, a lovely reminder that each of us is far more than we know, and
glimpsing that totality is not only available to us, but our birthright.
What a joyful ride it is!
Many Blessings,
