OTHER NAMES: “Thomas” (a nickname I’ve given him just so I have something to call him by; I have no idea whether this connects to his actual name)
TIME PERIOD: 1960-1982.
ORIGIN: Irish. Grew up in Northern Ireland, moved to London after dropping out of college.
APPEARENCE: Around 5 foot 6. Slender and slightly muscular. Blonde hair which I dyed black at around age 20. Bright green eyes. Pale skin, high cheekbones, strong-looking hands.
LIFESPAN: 22 years.
My childhood as a son of Northern Ireland was not particularly unhappy, but it was not particularly easy either. My friends and I knew that there was a better life out there and were greatly annoyed that our situation prevented us from getting at it. Because of our economic status and our rebelliousness, we began smoking and drinking heavily at quite a young age (I think around 13 or so). The older siblings of friends would buy the stuff for us.
As for my family, they cared very deeply about me, and so scraped and saved in order for me to go to a university. I started out studying business, but dropped out just at the beginning of second year and went to London, where I opened a record/comic book shop (I can’t really remember which).
Eventually I met the woman who would become my wife. She was English, with long dark brown hair and haunting eyes. We were married somewhere between my 20th and 21st birthdays, and within the next year we were expecting our first child.
By this point I was 22, and unfortunately this life was tragically cut short while, riding my moped down a forested road, I was glanced by a semi truck and knocked off the road.
CONNECTIONS, FURTHER INFO: When I first remembered this life, the words "Breathe Time" came into my head. Searching around for some sort of meaning to this odd phrase led me to two of the songs from the Pink Floyd album 'The Dark Side of the Moon'- "Breathe" and "Time", who follow one another on the album. I had never heard these songs before or even heard of them, and the lyrics collated directly with the overall mood of this life.
This bizarre experience was just one of the things that helped me truly believe in the phenomenon of past lives.
Breathe, breathe in the air
Don't be afraid to care
Leave but don't leave me
Look around and chose your own ground
For long you live and high you fly
And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry
And all you touch and all you see
Is all your life will ever be
Run, run rabbit run
Dig that hole, forget the sun,
And when at last the work is done
Don't sit down it's time to dig another one
For long you live and high you fly
But only if you ride the tide
And balanced on the biggest wave
You race toward an early grave.
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find, ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
And you run and you run to catch up with the sun,
but it's sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to nought,
or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone the song is over,
Thought I'd something more to say
Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
When I come home cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the fields
The tolling of an iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells
DISCLAIMER: These lyrics, of course, belong to Pink Floyd and I am in no way claiming them as my own.
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