I was standing in my friend Kaye’s kitchen, in my pink pajamas, when suddenly I knew exactly what was going to happen next.
I had been driving my son to his friend’s house one evening. I was already in my PJs for the night, but I was just dropping him off, so no one was going to see me. Then I realized I was in Kaye’s neighborhood and called her up.
“Come on over!” she said.
She did not mention that she had company. I did not mention that I was in my pajamas. It was all starting to feel like a dream, the one where I’m naked in public.
And then the déjà vu hit. I felt I knew what was going to happen next and what was going to be said next.
Most of us have had moments of déjà vu, that feeling that we’ve been in that exact spot, or said those very words, or done that thing before.
Is it some neurological trick? Is it evidence of a past life?
You’d think we’d remember our past lives. After all, they probably lasted, well, a lifetime, right? Why don’t we? Why can’t we?
In ancient Greece, the dead were crowned with wreaths of henbane to help them forget that lifetime so they could move forward.
Maybe we’re not meant to remember our past lives.
Have you seen the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?
In it, the two main characters have had a volatile relationship, they break up, and then undergo a procedure to erase all memories of each other.
Their past is too painful. They can’t move on while still remembering.
We’ve all had at least one painful relationship, one we wish we could erase from out minds. It could be with a parent, a friend, or a lover.
And for some of us, that pain keeps us from moving forward. We guard our hearts, refusing to be that vulnerable again.
Not remembering our past lives might, then, be a good thing. A blessing. We are able to move forward with freedom. There is little if anything holding us back.
There are some things we carry over from the previous life. Talents like an uncanny ability to play the piano at a young age. The people in our soul group. Cellular memories. And certain recollections that don’t match up with our present incarnation.
I’m pretty sure I was never in a friend’s kitchen in my PJs before. But it is likely that I had a prior experience of feeling surprised and exposed. And that there was a lesson that I was determined to learn this time around.
That evening, in Kaye’s kitchen, I didn’t run out of the house feeling mortified. I stayed, had a drink, and played games with everyone like it was the most natural thing.
I hope I got it right. If not, I’ll be saying déjà vu all over again.