The small sailing craft struggled against the storm. “ I could see it in my dream.” She said. The French coast, somewhere in the early nineteenth century. “ That was your boat, I could see the sails, you were the Captain.” “ I can barely make out a name, I believe its “Ramona”, a woman's name.”

Wait... I said. You know my boat doesn’t have sails, it has engines........

“ No, a past life. You were in my dream, you were the captain of that boat and you carried cargo along the French coast one hundred and fifty years ago! !

“That was your past life.” “You had a problem with women and I find it amusing that your boat had a woman's name.” “ Your reputation as a drunkard earned you lesser cargos, and your boat suffered for maintenance because of the lesser cargos.”

“That is when you lost your life, when you and Ramona went down in the storm.”

“Something failed on the Ramona and all hands were lost in that storm I saw in my dream.” A story for those of us that believe in past lives. This is one of mine.

A poem for Ramona (channeled)

Somewhere back in time

we sailed together, you and me

we played with the wind till we were spent

then with a sigh

embraced our sea.

Ron Francis..................(c) 2009