Sexuality and Reincarnation (Pondering Past Lives and Love Affairs Through Many Centuries)

Photo by JJ Jordan

My friend, Cassondra, was tall and slender yet not a beauty, with her thin lips and high cheekbones that didn’t quite go with her aquiline nose. Although she had lovely brown eyes and a genuinely happy smile, her greatest feature was her long, thick, black hair. It cascaded down her back and framed her face, making it glow. With her hair and her bubbly personality, no one cared if her features were perfect; everyone was drawn to her.

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My name is Estella — Stella to my close friends. I’ve always been empathic, even when I was too young to understand the word or the gift, and curious about what some people thought, felt, and were all about, because I seemed to know them, even though we had never met.

As I grew older, I became curious about past lives and reincarnation and became an avid reader on the subject. So, when I met Cassondra a few years ago, she was one whom I felt I had known my whole life, and the longer I was around her I sensed with certainty that I had been in one or more of her lives. But the curious aspect was the fact that I seemed to know without question that she had been a prostitute.

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I had vivid dreams about my friend, Cassondra, I saw that she doled out sexual favors readily. When men, which were many, sought her out, they would reward her handsomely.

In one of my dreams, I followed my father a few nights after he left home under the pretext of doing business. I felt that he had given off a much more excited vibe while explaining his reasons for leaving after supper which made me curious. I followed him while I kept to the shadows, and always saw that he ended up in a small house and in the arms of a vibrant woman with long black hair.

While I watched in fascination, I saw that he practically tore her clothes off at their meeting. His desires were great, and obvious, from the straining member that fell out of his pants as I stifled a gasp that first night, and felt heat start to grow in my own body. I should have felt ashamed for the need to explore with my fingers the wetness seeping into my underwear, but it felt too good for shame.

I didn’t blame my father for being unfaithful. My mother was a beautiful woman, but she was a bitch, and likely hadn’t given my father what he’d wanted, what he craved, for many years. In a way, I felt happy for him. But I knew that he wasn’t the only lover the woman had.

While shopping with my mother on several occasions, I saw the same woman but with different men. And I noticed that with each one, she would cling to his arm and laugh jovially at something the man said and would act as if he was the most wonderful person on earth. My mother would always huff and mutter something disdainful under her breath when we’d pass the pair.

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In other dreams, which seemed to have happened during a more recent period, I saw Cassondra as an in-demand call girl. It was in one of those dreams that I experienced myself as a man who was drawn to her bed. There was no reason to feel shame about what we did together in those dreams because I knew I wasn’t dreaming about this life and couldn’t help what I had done in others.

Because of those dreams and because I always felt that I, too, had lived many different past lives, I looked for and found a hypnotist who specialized in past life regressions and made an appointment with him. I wanted to determine if my suspicions were correct, or if my imagination was, simply, a bit too vivid.

He told me, “Some religious traditions, like Buddhism and Hinduism, hold the belief that people have had many past lives. The concept is interpreted in different ways. Some believe in a more literal view of the soul being reincarnated, whereas others believe in a more metaphoric theory that the past merely influences one’s present life.”

He continued, “I believe that many of us have lived before. If you want to know if you are one of those, I can guide you into a relaxed state and begin accessing memories of the past one level at a time. I’d be able to determine whether your present has been influenced by things from the past.”

I was nervous about the process, yet excited to know about myself, and told him that I wanted to do this. He assured me of the safe passage I would be making and for me not to worry. And so, with that reassurance, I was eager to get started. A tape recorder was turned on so that I could hear my own words while under hypnosis. I was then taken back many years, further than I had ever expected.

Photo by Timothy Dykes

The woman I had known as Cassondra, looking different except for her hair, was my younger sister during an age of kings and concubines. We were both innocent and pure before we went through puberty and began to develop more than just personalities and pubic hair.

At that time, I was considered the beautiful one, I was also the more responsible older sister who didn’t seek admiration. But my younger sister, never a gob-smacking beauty, always had followers, especially men. I thought perhaps my voluptuous sister released a sexual pheromone in her wake because every man who passed her would press down on his desires as he stopped and stared. Even women clamored to be around Cassondra.

My sister’s natural-born innocence, which she maintained through puberty, had been taken from her by a powerful king. Her deflowering had not been consensual. The king’s plans had been known to our father and he’d received hefty compensation. When I found out, I hated him for the part he played in my sister losing her innocence. From that point, she became insatiable and was never without someone in her bed until her death.

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We met again in a later life and became friends — my admiration always there for her. But that Cassondra look-alike had already developed a need for satisfying her raging hormones and had them taken care of by her choice of men. I chose to take care of myself and my physical needs because I was more sexually repressed.

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Throughout the past centuries, at least during the eras when our paths crossed, I would see her sincere smile and warm eyes that gave a come-on look to draw in men and had even lured women. People just wanted to be near her. With her statement long, curly, raven locks streaming down her back, all eyes would turn to watch her wherever she went.

We had only met periodically in a past life when I was a man, but she drew me into her web with sexual promises. She had taught me a lot about what men should love about sex and how best to satisfy a woman because that was how she wanted to feel and be treated. She needed love, but it was the sex that drove her.

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My therapy session showed me I had several times been born as a male, including two occasions where I was gay. These lives taught me many arts of satisfaction, both getting and giving. I assumed Cassondra had done the same, even though she had remained a female throughout her own past lives.

The immediate present, interesting aspects of Cassondra in this life, always seemed nuanced with her naivete and her innocence. This woman had no clue as to her natural abilities to draw people to her; men specifically. The guileless way she comported herself was new to this era, but its effectiveness had been honed by centuries of calculation and practice.

As I look back, today, I can see why my appetite and love for the male body came to be, especially why I crave the male appendage-of-pleasure to grow hard and eager in my mouth, to please me with its readiness, yet I also appreciate the curves and softness of a woman.

I wonder if I would have had such cravings beyond the normal sex drive had I not had the experiences of so many varied past lives? A question impossible to answer but so fun to ponder, because it seems that Cassondra and my roles have reversed. I have become the insatiable one and Cassondra the conservative, responsible one.

When we went to a bar together, Cassondra would show little interest in the men who tried to talk to her, who flirted shamelessly with her. It was almost as if she was bored with the routine. Her long dark locks would bring the men over, but they were soon rebuffed.

Whereas, I now ignored boundaries to my own flirtatiousness, not giving up until I had found, targeted and conquered in my quest for sex with a stranger.

Photo by We-Vibe Toys

I’ve realized the key to getting a guy to want you, to want sex with you — if that was the goal — was to be confident and available, yet a little coy. That was how I remembered seeing the actions, in my past-life visions, of Cassondra, who had gotten all the men she had wanted. I remembered how she had balanced a show of interest in a man yet was a little coquettish. Cassondra had wanted the man to feel like it was his idea, not hers, to find a private spot to tear at each other’s clothes and allow their passions to be their guide.

Now it was me who could sit at the bar with high expectations, a sensual smile on my lips, and say to the man who approached, “I’d love for you to buy me a drink.”