Last night I went on an astral journey to a realm very familiar to me. I felt myself drift out of my body and then I began to float on a warm breeze. I finally settled in front of an ancient wooden house. Its structure, weathered by time, exuded an aura of mystery and antiquity. The gnarled wood, polished by centuries of wind and rain, seemed almost alive under my ethereal touch. I had been here before. I could feel a little thrill of excitement to be returning to this ancient house.
As I stepped onto the creaking floorboards, a symphony of groans and whispers echoed beneath my feet, each step a testament to the countless stories this house held within. The walls seemed to be made of tree branches and created an intricate tapestry of nature. Leaves rustled gently, whispering secrets of the past, as if the house itself was breathing, alive with memories.
Curiosity led me to explore the depths of this house. Each closet, shelf, cabinet, and drawer was a repository of artifacts from another lifetime I had lived. These items, both ancient and contemporary, bore silent witness to my myriad incarnations. I opened a cabinet, and a surge of energy enveloped me, powerful and unyielding. My mind was flooded with vivid images, a mind video of a life long past. I saw myself in different eras, wearing different faces, living different stories, yet always connected by an invisible thread to the essence of who I am.
In one drawer, a delicate locket gleamed, and as I touched it, I was transported to a time when I was a healer in a quaint village, my hands mending wounds and my heart soothing souls. Another shelf held a worn leather-bound journal, its pages filled with my musings from a life as an explorer, charting unknown territories and discovering hidden truths. Each artifact was a portal, a key to unlocking the vast expanse of my soul’s journey through time.
The energy within these relics was potent, a force that transcended the physical realm, allowing me to relive these experiences with startling clarity. I drifted through the house, moving from room to room, each space a chapter in the story of my existence. The walls whispered my name, the floors groaned in recognition, and the air was thick with the essence of who I had been.
Far too soon, I was pulled back to my body and didn’t wake up until morning. Every detail of my experience was etched into my mind. Even now, details of that vivid journey continue to surface.
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