Brenda's Story

This detailed story is being presented as it was posted on a listserv, with permission to post here. Note that as of 7/05 there have been new developments in the case--a member of the past-life family, finding the story via search engines, contacted me asking for Brenda's contact information, saying that their family history as she understands it matches very closely with Brenda's memories. Brenda says she will be writing the family, and as more details are reported to me, I'll include them at the end of this account.

I'm not completely sure how to word this other than as it comes to me. And out of respect for one of the flight-member's family I will say this: I am in no way seeking any type of remuneration for my story nor am I seeking to persuade anyone of anything. I only know what happened during my regression session and my interest was in the spirit of personal healing only. Being a 10 year Veteran of the United States Air Force I proudly salute a hero who went down in battle while protecting his country and his country's allies. I freely give permission to anyone interested in publishing this account (or any of its parts) as long as it is reproduced in a faithful manner, in the interest of education, and maintaines respect for myself, the man, and the survivors of the man's family whom I name. Lastly, I also avow that I have never studied the events or the squadrons involved in World War 2, beyond that which was required learning while I was in the USAF (none of which constituted learning ANY Historical Personnel Rosters). I did not look at any references to any names until the day AFTER my regression session. Any names and situations I mentioned in the trance-like state came to me spontaneously and I had no way of knowing any coincidental information beforehand.

I will spare the details of the initial 20 or so minutes of the regression (as it was only a method of furthering my sense of relaxation). I was fully aware of everything around me during the whole session, no medications were used, and I maintained the ability to halt the regression at any moment if I needed to. Sometime during the regression my arms began lifting on thier own into what my body felt as being more comfortable (even though they were elevated) and they remained raised in that position for well over an hour. I was told that this is uncommon for someone to do this on their own without the assistance of a suggestion. It is also a sign of very deep regression. My hands were cold but not uncomfortable, and I felt my fingers curling and twisting in responce to my thoughts and replies to the doctor's questions. (Note: I have a tendency to elaborate my points with my hands but in this case they did not "fly around" trying to make a point.) When I came out of regression my hands were colder than any time I can ever remember (to include the many migraines I suffered for the last 17+ years). I also experienced some strong emotional sensations during the regression which quite literally disappeared when the session was over; I felt fine.

The first impression I experienced for this time period was that of a section of a city which I described as "very busy." People were everywhere, what appeared to be dock-workers were moving things. It was a sunny day and there were palm trees. I was asked to look at my feet (by the doctor) so as to determine my gender. I was wearing shiny, black, pointed-toe heels. The skirt of my dress was white with black polka-dots and made of a very light fabric. I was waiting for someone who was already 10 or so minutes late. End result: I "didn't get the part." Exploring into this we learned I was a model (I did some still-work or print-work) and I had aspirations on getting into the movies. Movies were big business and booming and I knew that many of the movies were being made for the "soldiers."

My next impression was that of being in a kind of soda shop. I had been standing for some time and decided to get a coke. This is where I met him. What caught my attention was a combination of his smile and his perfect uniform. I knew this was not an actor. Except for the guy working the "bar" we were the eldest people in the shop. My first thought: "Oh, he's c-u-t-e!" As I made my acquaintance with him I could swear his eyes literally sparkled when he smiled. He had rows of ribbons and a shiny pair of wings mounted above the ribbon wrack. He wore a khaki-colored uniform the Army Air Corps used to wear. He bought my coke for me, we talked for a while and agreed to meet the next day in a park near a hotel. I don't remember the name of the hotel but the park was still using gas lamps.

During his short stay in California we got to know each other and I agreed to follow him to as far as Hawaii as we had become engaged. He left me there at the Naval Base and had to move on to his assignment on the China/Mongolia boarder. Before he left he told me all kinds of stories and facts about his P-40 fighter. He was very proud of it. I had little interest in such things, but I loved to listen to him talk.

Eventually, I got bored with Hawaii (and resented the place for taking me away from my dreams of getting into the movies), I sent him a letter letting him know I was leaving with "Roger" (who was trying to help me get my break), and I (we) left. I left and was in CA before the Bombing of Pearl Harbor took place. While in CA "Roger" was instrumental in getting me into the interviews, auditions, and parties that could further my career. A couple of months after "the bombing" I recall being at one of those parties and was interrupted by a dark-haired friend of mine. She looked worried and told me there were Army Officers there to see me and they had a message. Getting a wire from the military is never a good thing. My heart did flip-flops in my chest as I followed my friend to the gentlemen. Sure enough, they straightened to "Attention" stance and handed me the message. It had said that my fiance's plane had gone down and that he was Missing In Action - Essentially "dead." My next words were a choaked "Oh my god, Eddie!?" (Note: this is the first time I recall being able to put a name to the memory of the man I loved.)

In my grief I realized just how selfish I had been and it really hit hard that the message I sent him must have effected his judgement. Thoughts of "my fault" and "I killed him" filled my mind and my heart. I KNEW it was because of me that he went down. I couldn't stand these thoughts and knowing he was dead and there was nothing I could do for him. I couldn't fix things. My mental and emotional state went highly irrational. I grabbed glass after glass of whatever I could get my hands on. The more liquor the better. Until finally, I grabbed a whiskey bottle and tore out the door, got into "Roger's" car and sped away. I wove craizily through people and traffic. Lights sped by me as I lost track of where I was going. I slugged whiskey down like it was water and went through cigarettes like a chimney. I was crying and shaking and beyond reason. Finally, I swerved through a red light. The passenger side of the car lifted and the car rolled. Glass was everywhere. I was bloodied and pinned. My neck was seperated from the base of my skull and the back of my skull was shattered. The damned whiskey bottle survived! As I lay dying I was in so much shock I couldn't feel anything. I was still crying and until my last breath I just said "No..."

I remembered leaving behind that messed up, pretty blonde husk and feeling no more pain. I was still a little sorry for what I did, but as I looked up "Eddie" was there with that smile. I made a vow to him then that in our next life I would marry that man and make up for my mistakes.

End Regression.

Personal note:
With the excitement of now knowing a name to go along with other facts the day after the regression I typed "P-40" in my web search engine, to my dissaftifaction I found mostly RC modelling. I then typed in "Flying+Tigers" and found a whole web ring of WWII sites and the squadron rosters of the famous Flying Tigers. In the listing of killed and missing I found an excerpt (copyright Posted October 1988):

"Of this number (80), 21 died or went missing during the AVG's combat career, which according to the U.S. Air Force extended from 7 Dec 1941 to 14 Jul 1942. Five were lost in the air over Rangoon (though nobody knows whether Leibolt was shot down or crashed because of mechanical failure):


Flight Leader Edward Leibolt, missing in action, Feb. 25, 1942"

Something I noticed is that there were several other Edward's, Edmund's variants listed in the rosters, but this was the ONLY person by that name among the dead and missing AND he was a pilot AND he went down in the geographical area I specified AND at the approximate time/date I specified. Is this wishful thinking, coincidence, or a genuine past life? The impressions I had that day had the same substance to them as any memory I have from this life. Out of an 80-man squadron how could I know in advance that "Eddie" might be Edward Leibolt who went down in his plane?

I will update you on anything that may appear to prove or disprove this account. Again my highest respects for this man and his family. I have no intention to dishonor them in anyway.

Later friends,

Addendum, July 2000
I've been hit with that "time to do more research into PL bug" again. I got to thinking about a question that I had answered to my therapist during my regression session about a year and a half ago that didn't quite feel right when I replied. She asked me how I got to Hawaii in late 1941 (about Sep or Oct of that year) and I reluctantly answered "by ship." I knew my fiance' had gone by ship, but it didn't "feel" right that I did--it especially didn't feel right that I got home to CA so fast when I left HI. I have no memories of being on board a ship in that life, ever. I've visited quite a few ships in this life time and the senses, memories, and emotions weren't "right" to fit that PL. Yesterday, I stumbled upon a web site dedicated to DC-3/C-47 aircraft. It brought back a memory from this life that I had almost forgot about, a memory that gave me that eerie "I've been in a place like this before" kinda feeling when I boarded it 10 years ago.

It was during my stint in the Air Force and I was stationed at Altus, Oklahoma. This base is home of the C-141, C-5 and KC-135 Refuellers, and like all bases it has its share of static display aircraft. A few months before I left this base to go to my next duty station I was lucky enough to be one of the avionics folks to go aboard a gift that was given to the base--it was an old DC-3 (green with a badly faded pink Flamingo painted on it). I didn't at first recognize the designator (DC-3) but the words "Goonie Bird" jumped into my head and I wondered where in the heck they came from. Then we were driven as an inspection crew up to the bird and I saw it for the first time. I got that strange electrical sensation of having been there before but the surroundings weren't right it was Oklahoma not San Fransisco. Anyone who's lived in a desert that gets a little rain knows that odd saline odor from when the desert was an ocean at one time which is comensurate with the California beach areas but there, in OK, there were no palm trees. I remember wanting to say that I went by plane to the therapist but it was an occasion when I was doubting myself--my present-day knowledge (or lack there of) was seeking control while I was "under" so I didn't mention it. When I stepped aboard the Goonie Bird (DC-3) I rember getting that "haunted" feeling, but it was ghosts of my own memory visiting me, not any actual hauntings. I remember I got all excited and told mu husband about Altus' newest static display and used the words "Goonie Bird" when I told him and I remember him looking at me with that 'where did you get that term?' look. Then he smiled and told me all about the plane. I kept wanting to say "I know! I know!" but I had no idea how I knew. I was finishing much of what he was teaching me before he could finish his statements, but I didn't associate it with a past life at that time (I wasn't studying them).

Last night, when I found this web site all those memories came rushing back at me from that life time (and this one) and I wrote feedback to their site complimenting them on their work. I also asked them, daring not to hope, if these planes were capable of flying from CA to the Hawaiian Islands during the period of 1939-1950. After I sent them my question I found some basic stats on the bird and found it was designed to fly 2125 miles (it is 2397 miles from SF to Honolulu). My hopes fell. But at the same time I found references to these planes being all over the world doing the jobs our jumbo jets do today. I got my reply today and I was right! They did fly there at that time! They had a Pan-Am modification that added an extra fuel tank to do this job regularly, almost daily! I hate it when I second guess myself! My reply to this gentleman, besides an elated thank-you!, was if there was any way of getting copies of flight rosters from specific time periods (namely Oct-Nov 1941). Now, I'm in a wait-and-see mode again. But it sure is exciting!

Comments: There are two typical aspects in this addendum. The first is the "electric feeling" Brenda reports upon remembering something from a past life. The second is how her memories appear to be incorrect or unrealistic, but are subsequently proven correct or plausible upon further investigation.--Stephen S.


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