Past Life Regression Session

Julie Longstreet Wehmeyer
5 min readDec 21, 2021


I had an intense regression session earlier this year where I learned I had been executed for harlotry by my husband. The year was around 1827. These poems came out of that regression and spontaneous regressions after that. Two poems are from my point of view; and two are from the male lover’s point of view.

This is turning into an anthology along with poems that have outlined my experiences in this lifetime that coincide with past life experiences and the synchronicities apparent. Again, I am open to healthy discussion and discourse. They are in order of meeting, the execution, the burial, and afterlife. Enjoy.

#1 — Female Point of View

We Saw Each Other

You reached up and gently,

But firmly grasped my arm

As you guided me down from the steed.

The way you had done many times before

Keeping me safe, cared for

And protected.

A young lady and her family’s groom

From very different worlds and expectations.

For the first time, I looked down

And saw your face.

I saw your face.

I saw you.

Instead of looking through you

With the unearned arrogance

I foolishly considered my birthright.

I truly, and finally, saw you.

Your eyes as deep, blue and dangerous as the waters

At the base of Aillte an Mhothair.

The desire to leap into their watery depths

Was overwhelming, instantaneous and fierce.

I should have recoiled

Holding my head high and proud.

I should have dismissed you and walked away

As society demanded a I do.

Yet seemingly, with no other choice,

I let myself tumble and fall over the precipice

Into the dark mysterious danger of you.

The danger of us.

Without any resistance.

Without any remorse.

And you saw me too.

For the first time

You truly saw me.

As no one else in this ever had or could.

Recognizing the brokenness

Mirrored in the blackness of our separateness

That only served to make us one.

Igniting a flame deep within our spirits,

A flame that has burned for many lifetimes

Both of us

Willingly, and without fear,

Accepted the challenge that our souls demanded.

Never once flinching in reticence

As the boundaries of our lives were obliterated

We were damned.

We were blessed.

We saw each other.

#2 — Female Point of View

The Harlot

The desperate howl

Of my lover’s keening

Vibrated in the water around me.

As my husband held me down in the sea

Growling under his breath,

“You are mine.”

“You are mine.”

“You are mine.”

Precious clear air quickly being

Replaced by murky water in my lungs

As I struggled and fought to live.

To live, and to love.

To love just one more time.

“Harlot” they shouted.

“Witch” they chanted.

A celebration of hatred.

An army of men held my lover back

Pinning his arms down,

Keeping him from me,

Forcing him to watch me die.

Breaking him, destroying him

As he struggled to save me.

To protect me.

To stop the madness.

To keep loving me.

This was our punishment for love.

I shuddered and died.

And with every cell in my body

I cursed my husband.

I promised to return.

I became the witch.

I was the harlot.

#3 Male Point of View

I Dove

I dove.

I dove again.

And again.

And again.

I could not leave you where they left you.

Your soul struggling for salvation

Deep in those dark, unholy, black waters

So close to hell. So close to hell.

Your body bloating and disintegrating

Into the louring seabed below.

I dove and dove, reaching and grasping to find you.

Until my hands finally touched your skin.

And I brought you home.

I dove.

I dove again.

And again.

And again.

My strong, calloused hands found and brought you home.

The life and love gone from your amber eyes

The eyes I lovingly and passionately dove into every night.

Seaweed all tangled up in your golden red hair.

Your lips once warm and moist with honey

Were now cold, blue, and briny from the sea.

I lifted you up and carried you back home.

Back home hidden deep in the dark recesses

Of the sanctified holy ground

They tried to deny you because of our sin.

I dove.

I dove again.

And again.

And again.

My mother’s childhood rosary beads

Wrapped and entwined in your fingers.

Your body wrapped in the blanket we loved so hard beneath

I prayed and covered you with the sacred promise of love.

As I dove into the hot lava river of grief

Disguised as a small glass flask in my back pocket.

I deeply gulped and sank into its smoky oblivion

Knowing it was all that would sustain my soul

Until God brings us back together again.

I dove.

I dove again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

#4 Male Point of View


Startled awake from what felt

Like a deep, endless slumber,

I felt you caressing my feet.

Your delicate hands as soft and cool

As the finest satin.

Like I remembered them to be.

Lady’s hands that never toiled.

How can this be?

I buried you myself

In hidden sacred ground

More than 30 years ago.

Yet, now, here you are.

Where have you been?

Why are you here?

Where am I?

I asked those questions

But my lips never moved or quivered.

You knew and answered me with your heart

And smiled with such love and kindness.

My heart clenched and surged in my chest as

I doubled over in relief

And so much love.

“Darling, it’s time. It’s time to fly home.”

My arms, shoulders and back were tingling

As my skin had started to rip and tear

In tiny straight lines.

In a zig zag jagged pattern.

Tiny white tendrils were emerging through.


There was no pain

Just a tremendous sense of relief

Of coming home.

And a surge of strength

Enveloped in warm feelings

Of being blanketed in love.

My weak and old bones felt so strong …

Stronger than they had in decades.

I’m growing wings.

Feathers turning golden at the tips.

My mortal life was through.

My tired flesh and bones

Were no longer needed.

Life was over.

Devoid of me.

Yet my spirit was bursting

Full of love and freedom

And you.

I am empty and full

At the same time.

I just want to fly.

I want to fly home.

I want to fly home with you.

Our wings wrapped around each other.

My hot gold against your cool silver.

Diving and soaring

Through the stars and the Universe.

As we have done through eternity.

We are finally together.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.



Julie Longstreet Wehmeyer

My story is filled with broken pieces, terrible choices, and ugly truths. It is also filled with comebacks, peace in my soul, and a grace that has saved me.