Past Life 1800’s

Lifetimes remembered in the 1800’s:

brothel _yellow

I have always had two memories from that time period. They do not overlap but they are close together within about a century as near as I can fathom from research.

Somewhere between the end of the 1700’s and the early 1800’s I was female. I was laying in a bed with a brass frame. I was looking out of an open window at a kind of prairie landscape. I could see my hands on my chest or lap in front of me. They were old and wrinkled. I was on an upper story of what I remember to be a Victorian styled building much like the one in the picture I’ve provided. It had a turreted upper room. It was painted a yellow much like the yellow I have provided on the upper story.

This photo is not the actual building of course, but it is close to my memory. The building in reality was all yellow with white trim. It was a brothel somewhere in the mid-west. It was isolated out of some larger town by many miles.


[ED note: This image is a reconstruction as best as I can make it.] 

Madam Death

I vividly recall looking out the bedroom window reflecting on my life as the madam of the establishment. Many memories of happy and not so happy times with my girls and customers. I remember as I looked out over the landscape that I had loved this life and hoped I would be accepted when I passed. I thought that I had done my best to bring happiness to those who were customers and friends. I recall my last breath as the view became dark.


In this life, those memories are still quite vivid. I have a great respect for the women of the world who are part of the oldest profession as it is known. I also have great acceptance of the human condition as it relates to human sexuality and all of its permutations. This remembered life taught me many things I seem to have as part of my evolving personality. Those things will be discussed only in the secured pages. Michael of Nebadon showed me many things regarding the human condition as it pertains to our development as a species on our world. He showed me in detail how those unseen controllers have perverted our true heritage as sensual beings with controls and lies for the benefit of various priesthoods and other organizations. I experienced some of that in this life.


My second memory from this time period:

native american 14210979_s

This memory will no doubt anger some segments of our society because of the historical aspect of a verifiable individual. I hope they understand no disrespect is intended. I have the memory I have.

This memory regards my life and death as a Native American. Today I am legally one /16th Cherokee. Then I was 100 percent Cheyenne with two names. My remembered image of myself at my later years is provided below with the public domain image. My name was Morning Star and Dull Knife when translated from the languages of Northern Cheyenne and Lakota Sioux.

The man standing next to me is Little Wolf. He still lives today in his new body of a man named Gary. I have met two individuals in this life who remember me, and I remember them from that time as Native Americans. Both are still living. One named Lorinda,  has written a book before we met in this lifetime that described our time together… by name.

The actual history of Little Wolf (sometimes translated Little Coyote, but I knew him as Little Wolf.) is available through libraries. I won’t dwell on their story.


Little_Wolf_and_Morning_Star Dull Knife

I will say though that today, Gary, once Little Wolf has had a parallel life to that of his prior flesh experience. In that former embodiment he was a medicine man who was exiled and was forced to wander the lands.  In this life he has followed the path of herbal expert and wandering truck driver. He is derived from the Lakota clans of Sioux. He feels an affinity for that life still.

I have been able to play the native flute since I first picked one up over 40 years ago. No practice. I just play.

I have had parallel experiences with many life situations including the incarceration of the same government with which Morning Star  encountered in his time frame. I feel a true affinity for the heritage. I even live in the same areas now. During my government trial they tried to brand me as a bit touched because of my use of the name I used for public speaking. I describe that below.

There are too many parallels to write about here, but note I was male in that embodiment. Dull Knife died late in the 1800’s

Wickipedia says: ”   Morning Star was described by many writers of the century as “an admirable outlaw” compared to others like Rob Roy and William Wallace.”

This quote is almost deja vu’ if you read the memory of my re embodiment in Scotland.

I always had the memory of being a Native American. It was not until I was in my early thirties I discovered who that memory was. I was drawn one day to the Scottsdale Public Library. It was a beautiful new building. Just like in my return from off world as I moved along the stacks of books researching a name that would not get out of my head, “Morning Star”  a book fell off the lower shelf. It had a picture on the cover. The picture you see here. My knees gave out and I dropped to the floor sobbing out loud.

A few people nearby moved away and one asked if I was OK. I nodded and tried to control my sobbing. I KNEW. I KNEW the faces in the photo. I KNEW the one called Little Wolf. I KNEW.

My whole body reacted to the discovery. For days I was in a kind of shock. I tried to learn everything I could about this man called Dull Knife. I was amazed at our living parallels.
















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