This is just something I have decided to share with you Everythingians. It is all true. Well, its as true as I can vouch for without going to get hypnotic regression. So please, if you want to read it, dont call me a liar or anything like that. Also, please remember that all of this is second hand information. Most of it, I didnt know until a few months ago.

From my birth to about 22 months, I was a normal, happy infant. Then, my parents decided to take my family on a road trip to Maine, like they have done every other year since this particular trip. We were in Michigan, I think, when we had to stop behind a truck at one of the border crossing points where they ask 'Is this your child?' and 'What is your purpose for going to Canada?' when I just started screaming 'WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!' repeatedly. Mind you, I barely spoke at that point in my life, and very rarely in complete sentences.

From that moment on, I obsessed over my 'other life' as I called it. I would talk about everything, like the many pets I had, how death wasnt as bad as it sounded and how I died.

That last part might interest a few of you. My mom asked me about it the first time I started screaming, but I was still very shaky with words so I couldn't really answer her... But she asked me again. And by using other kids' ages as estimates, she found out that I was about ten years old. And I died in a car accident (or complications from it). From her interrogation of me, she found out that the only people that were in the car were me and a man. And the guy wasn't my dad. Thats all that she's told me about the death thing.

When my great aunt died, my sister couldnt stop crying. Until I talked to her for a little while. I made her realize that death could be better, that it was good. She stopped crying when I told her that death was like a transition to a better world. Of course, I was not even four then, so I didnt use big words like transition and stuff. But thats essentially what I said.

You might be asking yourself why my parents never took me to a psychologist. Well, my aunt came to visit us at sometime during this 'phase'. She was so irked by my babbling that she talked to one. My mom refused to take me because other than the fact that I talked incessantly about a life that could never have occurred according to Christian thought, I was a very happy child. Basically, what the psych told her was that it wasn't all too uncommon, but still rare, for children to rant and rave about a 'past life' and it would stop around age four. Which it did. What I really want to do now, though, is go to a hypnotist that is good at regression. And see if I can learn more about my 'other self'.