I moved to Nashville in 1999 and it was June 2000 when I met Dr. Bruce Goldberg the author of Past Lives – Future Lives while he was speaking at our local metaphysical store. It was the first I’d heard of him. He talked about time travelers and said that just like past life memories, we could go forward and tap into our future lives. He had done many such future progressions and would be available after the seminar, so I signed up. By this time, I had already recalled many past lives.
Many people signed up and our private sessions were done in his hotel room. During my future life progression, we briefly explored a future life. My name was Tamara, which when mispronounced as it frequently is, becomes Ta-mara (i.e. tomorrow). According to the author, futuristic personalities have names that represent the future or what their jobs will be. Interestingly, Tamara is also a combination of two of my past lives, Tara and Mara (Ta-Mara).
Four years would pass as I avoided delving into this future life. Every time it came to facing my life as Tamara, I would feel an aversion and turn away. I would either go to bed or work on something else; anything else. I would tell myself that I was saving it for last. Eventually, I recognized what was happening. I did not like who I was as Tamara.
I am born in the future to a nice couple. My father became a self-made businessman who establishes his own company based upon an invention where he improved upon an already existing device. It had to do with electronics.
Our last name is Fisher. My mother is dedicated to my father and I am their only child. We are living in a trailer with a deck added; not poor but average.
My bedroom is just off the kitchen. Looking out my bedroom door, I can see the counter and sink against the right wall. Just to the right from my bedroom off the kitchen is a sliding door through which my father leaves and returns via the deck. This isn’t important except to exemplify how vivid my memory is of this future life.
Across the back wall of my room are windows, really too high up for me to see out. To the right are sliding doors to my closet. I have outgrown most all of my clothes. To the left is a solid wall; the side to the deck where my father leaves and returns. I just hate the fact that there are no windows on this wall. I would love to watch my father come and go. It makes me feel so closed in. I wanted to ask my dad if he could put in a window but knew there was no point in asking.
One day, I hear my dad ask my mother about my grades and she tells him I am weak in math. She’s not too concerned but he gets upset. Without good math skills, I wouldn’t get into this prestigious school he is determined to get me into. My mom said it is expected that women be weaker in math. He tells her to hire me a math tutor.
The tutor is a young fellow. He tests my math skills and I do well except for one area, which he helps me with. Soon, he tells my father that my math skills are fine and that I won’t need his service. He works for himself and has clients to attend to that need his help a lot more than me.
ITALS One day as my father passed though the kitchen to leave, he asked my mother if she wanted him to bring home anything. She said, “Vegetables,” then said how tired she was of eating so much pasta. At first my father said that vegetables were expensive but then agreed that he would start bringing some. What went unspoken was that he was now making good money with his company and so could afford it.
During these days, companies pre-screen applicants for the criminal gene. Those with it find it difficult to get a job, even if they had never done anything wrong. When people found out that companies were doing this, there was an outcry. But even the outcry is seen as proof they have the criminal gene. I thought this was very unfair and felt sorry for these people. They weren’t even given a chance.
There is a lot of tracking and government surveillance which causes a continued sense of paranoia. People don’t trust each other. They are afraid to speak out. All computer activity is monitored and if you go to the wrong website or expressed a negative opinion, you could get arrested.
We had a television, but my dad had unplugged it because he found out that the government was monitoring people’s home from it. It was never turned on. My dad had a friend who was a little on the fringe side and knew things like this.
I wasn’t allowed on the computer because they charged you by usage and it could be very expensive. I never learned to send email, which would later have dire consequences and cost hundreds of lives.
About the second coming of Jesus Christ that many are looking for today, he never came. By this time, the idea has been discarded as religious folly. Holdouts are left to the lone nut or apparent mentally ill. I offer no apology.
There had been a request from a company for people who had silver to sell it to them. They needed it for production of a product. They did not want to pay for collectible coins, so people were actually melting their coins down before selling them to them! I thought that this was terrible, what a loss.
One day, my father brought me a book that his “fringe” friend had loaned him. His friend had suggested he loan it to me to read.
The title had the words “American Chronicles” and it started with the birth of America and our break with Britain.
This was not a mainstream history book we would read in school. It was an “underground” kind of book. It gave a controversial account of American history and politics, including government and corporate corruption.
History and politics didn’t really interest me, I was only 16, so I skipped around but figured I would at least look at it because my dad might quiz me later. After a few days, my dad appeared and said his friend wanted the book back.
As Tamara in the future, I got accepted into the school my dad had hoped I’d get into. This school is not like any university we have today. It is not a community college or State University but is owned by a large Corporation. In this school, education is focused specifically on training in areas related to the Corporation. They don’t waste time teaching things you will never use. Graduates are guaranteed a lucrative career. All doors are opened.
My parents would bring me home on the weekends where I would just go straight to my room. They never took me anywhere. I had one friend but spent most of my time alone. There was a landline phone in my room. We did not have cell phones because they finally admitted that cell phones caused brain cancer. Many deaths were attributed to their use.
No matter how much I doubt that, I can’t picture it otherwise. I just can’t believe they would do away with cell phones. Maybe, they didn’t need them for tracking anymore.
One weekend, I called my friend to say I was home. She didn’t get into the same school. She was excited about being invited to a popular girl’s party. She asked if I would go with her but I graciously declined. Then, I felt bad at being left out so asked my mother if I could go. She said she wished I had told her sooner so that she could have arranged a ride on the tram as she was unfamiliar with the process.
There were no personal cars. They had to be rented. I remember my dad upset once because he was asked to justify his need for renting a vehicle and they wanted to know exactly why he needed it and where he would be going. He didn’t feel it was any of their business.
On getting back to the school, I could see how excited the other students were about what programs they could sign up for. I tried to catch the enthusiasm but did not socialize well.
One boy was happy because his parents were taking him to Disney World. I decided that he was happy, whereas I was not, because his parents did fun things with him. My parents never did fun things with me and I felt a heavy sense of lack.
ITALS There was a phone in the hall and when I spoke to my mother, I asked her why they never took me to fun places. She asked, “What do you mean?” I said, “Places like Disney World”. She said they had taken me when I was younger (but I didn’t remember it). That’s when she reminded me that my father had dedicated himself to getting me into that school. She was not going to tell him what I had just said. “Your father is under a lot of stress and I am worried he might have a heart attack. He’s been complaining and I’m making him go see a doctor”.
The healthcare system took forever to get anything done and no one wanted to get embroiled in it. We had gone to socialized medicine.
My dad had allowed his employees part ownership in his company. This would make them more dedicated workers. But they were taking legal action against him for using funds from the company to purchase a large piece of property in his own name. They were accusing him of being dishonest, which offended and hurt him. In his defense, he felt that he and the company were one in the same, and anything that he did benefited the company and therefore everyone else. It was an honest mistake. He had always dreamed of owning a large piece of land.
When I had complained to my mother about them not taking me anywhere, I didn’t know any of this. I felt bad. The incident was on the news. My mother asked if anyone had said anything to me about it. Would anyone make the name connection? My mother hoped not. She would speak with the school officials to make sure no one said anything to me.
My next conversation with my mother was her telling me that she and my father had decided that it was not a good idea for me to come home on the weekends anymore. All I did was stay in my room anyway, she added. This was like a slap in the face and triggered a deep depression that would last the rest of my life.
Later, the news was that the judge, who was being lenient and sympathetic, had to sent my dad to jail for a brief time. Corporate corruption was poorly tolerated. My dad asked how the company was going to survive without him there to run it. He pointed out that those accusing him were destroying the very company that they were invested in. The judge suggested he temporarily appoint someone to run the company. It was important to my dad that he appoint someone honest. It was a tough decision and he had a difficult time with it. It came down to two men. One was younger and less experienced.
At school I took a personality or aptitude test. One question asked was if I preferred working alone or with others. Still feeling blue, I answered, alone, despite knowing that most people would not say that.
Soon, I am called to an administrator’s office. He asks about my name and did they sometimes call me Ta-Mara (tomorrow). I bristled at this, although he might not have been able to detect my displeasure. He informed me that because of my profile I had been chosen to go to an off-planet project that would be isolated, but only if I wanted to, he assured me. It didn’t matter to me. I began my preparation program, which included architecture.
In trying to remember this off-planet location, I recalled the names Juno and Uni. I looked them up on the Internet and was shocked to learn that Juno is a comet in orbit around the sun and an alternate name for Juno is – Uni! In the future this comet is captured and moved.
ITALS The next call I remember from my mother is her telling me that my dad wanted her to tell me that he was proud of me and that he loves me. She paused and waited for my reply. I said, “I love him too and I know that he loves me”. She sighed in relief and said she would tell him. I suspect that my dad had wanted a verbatim report of exactly what I had said.
It felt good to know that my dad was proud of me. He would have been serving his time and heard that I would be leaving the planet. Once I left, I never heard from my parents again.
At twenty years old, I was being sent to help prepare for colonization on another planet. I remember we were propelled roughly like a rocket, and then coasted for a long smooth ride. A woman, much like a stewardess brought me food that I refused. Eager to please, she kept trying to offer me things, but I kept declining. We were offered a pill to help us relax and sleep and I accepted it. A middle-aged male was along on this trip, but we didn’t speak. I think it was just he and I.
ITALS When I arrived, we walked through a tunnel, much like the one that leads to an airplane when docked to load passengers. I realized the man was there to meet the construction crew. I went to a break room on the second level where my new team members met. There were only about eight of us and I was the only female. I sat quietly at the table. An enthusiastic guy paced as he spoke saying they needed to do something and added, “Because the new people don’t know… Like Ta’mara here.” He had mispronounced my name. I bristled and corrected him, “My name is Tam’ara”. I decided from that moment that I didn’t like him.
My job was to oversee the construction of this building. The support beams were made of steel. Two steel paths came out from the second-floor break room that we would walk across to reach the frame. These two beams were not a permanent part of the structure but would come down once the frame was finished. One of the beams we used to walk out on and the other we used to walk back in on. Every day I would walk out to inspect and compare the construction to the schematic plans given me.
ITALS I began to notice that a young man would be coming out just as I was headed in. I thought maybe we were exchanging shifts. I would look briefly at him but kept walking. One day we were together in the break room and he asked me why I was so quiet. I said, “I don’t think anybody here likes me”. He said, “I like you”. He later admitted that he used to watch for me and would walk out just to get my attention. He had been upset that I ignored him.
One day I went out and noticed two shorter beams had been welded to make one longer one. This was a deviation from the plans and made me feel cross.
I approached the team leader, the one I didn’t like. He said they were short this particular sized beam and had decided it was important to not hold up the project waiting for supplies to arrive. It took several months for steel beams to arrive. There were two sizes, one longer, one smaller. It was the longer that they were short of. He reassured me that he and the others had discussed it and verified via a mathematical calculation that the structure was sound.
Ah math, the subject I wasn’t good at, but guys were. I told him that once the supplies arrived that I wanted him to replace it. He said that they couldn’t because it had already been welded in place. I felt cross but there was nothing I could do and so disliked him even more.
Once the area I had been sent to oversee was completed the guys did not include me in any other construction plans as the compound continued to grow. I did not have access to any other schematics besides the one they had sent me with. I was officially out of the loop.
It is possible that the new schematics were intentionally kept from me.
As time went by my hair grew very long. I wore it on top of my head. One day I became extremely frustrated with the sheer monotony of my life. I never got to do anything or go anywhere. I missed the ability to go outside and human interaction. It was driving me quite literally mad.
ITALS I sat down in front of the mirror, which was on the inside of my bedroom door. Tears streamed down my face as I cried in utter frustration. “What’s wrong with me? Why do I always feel so depressed? There’s nothing from my life for me to be depressed about,” I reasoned. Even my hair was always the same… the same old thing… same old thing!
I yanked my hair down and finding scissors I cut a big chunk just below the ear. I regretted it immediately and chastised myself. I calmed down and finished the mess I had started with my hair. When my friend saw what I had done, he commented that he didn’t like it. I admitted I didn’t either but had needed a change and that it would grow back.
By this time, we weren’t close anymore partly due to the conflict I had with his friend and partly because I was a cold fish. We had sex once and I decided I wasn’t interested and so began ignoring him. We grew apart. I rarely smiled and was very lonely.
Many years went by and we had gathered at a long table in a conference room that was near my room on the second floor. The leader, the one I didn’t like, stood at the head of the table and addressed the members of the group. I learned that an official had arrived to inquire from us if it was safe to allow people to come here.
All the males agreed it was safe, but I kept quiet. The leader called me out by name only to put me on the spot, and everyone looked at me, “Tamara? What’s your opinion?” I voiced that I did not feel it was safe.
Immediately there were reactions of derision, gasps of exacerbation and eyes rolled. Of course, I was going to make trouble! The leader wanted to know why, and I mentioned the two beams that had been welded together.
ITALS Angrily, he said, “I told you before, we had verified the calculations and I ‘told you’ it’s not going to be a problem!” The others shook their heads. It was then that he proudly stated that he had asked the official to not sit in on the meeting, telling him it would allow us to speak more freely. I didn’t understand the significance of this at the time but apparently, he had anticipated I would say something. He was patting himself on the back and gloating for having made such a wise decision and he wanted everyone to know how he had outsmarted me.
All our signatures were going to be required on the document being passed around that stated that we agreed it was safe for people to begin coming there. When it came to me, everyone was looking to see if I would sign it. I felt I had no choice. As soon as it left me, I wanted it back.
As everyone was leaving, I motioned for my friend to stay. We got backward glances and I could tell he didn’t want to. I needed to speak to someone.
ITALS “Something is telling me that it’s not safe. It’s a gut feeling, like an intuition. I can’t explain it. I just feel it and I don’t know what to do. I signed the document saying that I agreed it was safe. How could I go back and say that it’s not? Should I write another note and send it with the signed document? Should I go talk to the man who came here? Do you know where I can find him? What should I do?”
ITALS Talk of gut feelings and intuition was not part of a normal conversation. People didn’t talk of such things. It’s almost like we didn’t believe in it. My friend had no advice for me nor was he sympathetic. For years, I had remained cross with the leader and now made a disparaging remark. I said that he didn’t even look the same. My friend retorted back that neither did I. Duly chastened, I replied, “You’re probably right. I guess we’re all a lot older and have changed.” At that, my friend left but I wanted him to stay. I needed help.
Alone now in the conference room, there was a computer about the size of a standing ATM machine. Years before, a man had arrived to show us how to use it to send email, even though it would take a while to reach earth, a month? It was supposed to be simple, but I didn’t remember how. Maybe one of the guys knew but I wasn’t going to ask. They would want to know what I was emailing. A little booklet hung on the side. I piddled with it, but I didn’t know where to begin. Ultimately, I did nothing.
By this time, I only came out of my room to get snacks. A refrigerator had been moved to the conference room near me and I felt this was nice. There was a pudding that I would get from it.
There was also housekeeping service. Someone did my laundry and emptied the trash. The girl that came never spoke to me.
ITALS People began to arrive. One day a girl called out as I headed back to my room, “Excuse me. Are you Ms. Fisher?” For some reason I bristled and said, “Yes I am, but my work is done.” She said, “My name is Carol. I just wanted to introduce myself and shake your hand.” She was eager to be there and had made it her goal to meet all the original founders. I felt bad for snapping at her and faked a smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, Carol,” and I shook her hand.
ITALS One day my friend came to tell me about a collapse. He wouldn’t say if anyone was killed or might later die before rushing off. Eventually, the team leader came to my room. He humbly asked that I not mention the area in question. I told him not to worry, that I wouldn’t. He appeared relieved and started to go. Then, I unhappily added, “I won’t have to. They’ll find it when they come to investigate.” He nodded and left.
ITALS Meanwhile, I stayed shut away in my room. One day, I heard a commotion going on but couldn’t be bothered. Suddenly a mental message came through, “Get your ass out there! Get your ASS out there!! Go hold open a door or something; anything!”
This was very strange. I had never experienced anything like that before. At first, I ignored it but when it came through again loud and clear I knew that it was something significant and that I better listen.
Opening my door, I was surprised at the number of people down on the floor below scampering around in panicked confusion. I hadn’t realized there were so many. Many were streaming through a door into the horticulture area. I decided to go place myself at this door. People were scared and some were crying. One girl was saying they were going to die.
ITALS I continued to reassure them everything would be okay. A man helping to direct the situation saw me and asked where the safest place would be. I didn’t know. I actually said that I just came to hold open a door, before adding, “and to reassure everyone”. He asked if this was the safest place to be, but I didn’t know. “Well, who would know,” he asked in frustration. I gave him the name of the leader. “Where is he? Where can I find him?” I didn’t know that either. “He goes that way,” I offered as I pointed him off to the left, in a direction I never went.
I felt stupid because I didn’t know any more than I did about where to put these people. I couldn’t even answer his questions. Yet, being in the middle of a desperate situation brought my focus out of myself, where it had been all my life.
I started to feel bad for the leader. How horrible he must be feeling. I wished I could offer him words of support. I wished we could be friends.
Suddenly, there was more collapsing. It was unbelievably loud. Screams were drowned out as it headed our way. I pictured us being rescued only to find us all deaf. I saw beams falling and people getting hit. I remember confidently thinking that it would stop just before reaching us, but it didn’t. A beam hit me in the left side of the head with a tremendous blow.
I suddenly find myself in total darkness, so dark you could not see your hand in front of your face. I was crying and I could hear people around me moaning and crying. What is this strange and terrible place? We must all be dead.
It wasn’t until January 2012 that I suddenly realized with extreme horror that we weren’t dead! I had thought because we were in darkness and weeping that we had died but we were in the outside environment after the building collapsed.
ITALS My reaction to this was visceral. I wanted to puke. Collapsing at my kitchen sink with one hand on the counter, I cried, “They’re alive! They’re alive! Oh my God! They’re alive!”
A multitude of people, some dead, some wounded or dying lay among the rubble in total darkness, stranded on a planet far from earth. I felt a sense of desperation to rescue them, and it made it all the worse because I wasn’t even in the same time period. I was completely helpless to do anything about it.
These people had relied on us, my group, to ensure their safety and we failed them.
This by all accounts has been the most difficult life to review. Because of the tremendous number of lives lost, it is extremely emotional for me. No matter how many times through the years I have edited the telling of this experience, I always come to a point where I just break down.
ITALS It is obvious now that becoming aware of this life today is why I intuitively felt the building was unsafe. At first, I berated myself as Tamara. Why hadn’t I done more to prevent this? I blamed my weakness in character, my antisocial personality. In fact, the message heard by Tamara to “Get your ASS out there! Go hold open a door or something!” was an angry kick in the butt from me today.
I have considered causes for the collapse, which occurred in multiple events. Was there an earthquake? No, I didn’t feel an earthquake. I had not even been aware of the first collapse until my friend told me.
Did we build on sandy ground that shifted? Did the added weight of all the people walking around do something?
Slowly, and I’m talking years, it dawned on me that the beam that hit me in the head came from the direction where I had first discovered the improper welding.
As Tamara, I never ventured out of the original area that had been built by the first schematic. The guys did not share any new construction plans with me. They literally moved off and left me. That’s why I didn’t know where anything was. With me out of the picture and no longer a thorn in their side, how many other instances of improper welding had they done in the new areas? I ask this because the first collapse had originated in the expanded addition that I had never visited.
There is the disturbing possibility that this disaster might still happen in the future. Since I already sent a message to myself in the future, could I again send another message to myself? What should it be? Don’t sign the document? Be more confident? I’ve said it a dozen times or more, I don’t want to be Tamara! I’m too weak. Someone much stronger than me needs to go. At this point, I’m refusing. If somebody comes up to me on the other side and tells me I need to go, I’m going to knock them in the head.
Excerpt from Memories Of My Past Lives