Past life regression (part 4): Shamus, Ireland 1400s

After my experience as Marta (previous post), I remained under hypnosis.

An old man appeared and he led me back to the hallway. There was to a door that was white with a gold doorknob. The door opened on its own and I walked through it.

I’m a thin man, medium height, with pale skin and light brown hair. I’m walking across lush green fields in the countryside of Ireland. My name is Shamus and it feels like the 1400s.

I have a strong sense of purpose as I walk towards a church in the middle of a field. It is made from a mix of brown and gray stones and looks like a small castle.

Several months ago, I saw two children leaving this church in tears. My intuition was telling me that something was wrong. So the next day, I waited until I saw those kids walking through the fields and I started talking to them. I’m not sure why they agreed to talk to me, maybe because I was the only adult who asked them how they felt about the church.

They told me that they hated the church. The priest convinced their parents to send them there on a weekly basis so they could learn about the bible. The church called it “God school” – several of the nearby kids attended. I spoke to these two kids week after week. Eventually I learned about the sexual abuse that was happening. They told me that they were forced to perform sexual acts on the priest and clergymen, and they were told that if they said anything about it to their parents, God would kill their families.

As soon as I found this out, I knew I had to stop it.

I started by spying on the priest and clergymen. After the sun went down, I would hide outside of their homes to listen to their conversations. I discovered that, in addition to being pedophiles, they were crooks and murderers. They pocketed the church’s donation money and killed at least two of their enemies – people who spoke out against them – with poison.

Since then, I have had an unwavering singular focus – to bring down the church.

As I reach the church, I see that it is full of families who are attending service. I stand outside of the entrance and repeat a chant as loud as I can – “Abuse, greed and murder in the name of God.” 

After a few seconds, I draw a crowd as families exit the church. Many of the parents are whispering to one another. The priest comes outside and asks me to leave. I ask him why the church condones the sexual abuse of children. The parents are shocked when I say this.

When the priest ignores me, I ask him this question repeatedly. Eventually two of his clergymen come outside and drag me into the church. I can hear the priest outside apologizing to the families for my behavior.  

The clergymen bring me downstairs. There is a jail in the basement of the church. They cuff my wrists to the wall. Although there is a small window, the air is thick and stagnant.

In this moment, I am transported three months into the future.

After 90 days, the priest is finally letting me go. He tells me that if I ever go against the church again, I will be permanently silenced. My body is frail. I go home and spend the next month recovering to get my strength back.

Once I feel better, I continue my mission, but I take a different approach – I speak directly to the parents. I tell them that the priest and clergymen are pedophiles, crooks and murderers and that they are getting away with it because families continue to support the church.

I even ask their kids to tell their parents the truth. But the kids are scared and don’t say anything, which only makes things worse for me – I end up making enemies with the parents who I am trying to help. 

I am transported for a final time, one month into the future.

I confide in a few of the kids who are being abused. I tell them that the priest will kill me if I continue to speak out against the church. But I make them a promise – so long as I’m alive, I won’t stop trying to protect them.

I go back to the church to chant for a final time.

As I get dragged into the church by the clergymen, some of the kids start screaming and crying – they beg their parents to help me. The parents are visibly confused by this.  

I am back in the basement jail, cuffed to the wall. Shortly after nightfall, the two clergymen force feed me a liquid – it causes me to convulse and vomit for several minutes until I die.

It was a painful death.

When I leave my experience as Shamus, I can feel that he died with pride. It’s almost as if he knew that his death would finally bring down the church.

I then see a flash of images of what happened after he died.

The kids were scared when the church took Shamus. They finally told their parents about the abuse. The parents got together to share stories and they were horrified.

The fathers of the kids who were abused wanted revenge, so they murdered the priest and clergymen. The church became abandoned after that.  

Unlike my other past lives, Shamus didn’t die with feelings of sadness, anger, regret or shame. He died with a sense of accomplishment. He died happy and fulfilled.

I could feel his peaceful energy radiate through me.

Continued in next post.