Regression Session #3

I decided to go back.

The decision was not taken lightly. Instead of the nightmares starting in October, they have kicked back up in September. These dreams are different, however. It is not Ida running around during the sinking but myself in my own body, walking around the ship in daylight. It is disorienting.

I took this as a sign to do more regressions. I set up another zoom appointment with Jennifer and dived back in. This time I had intentions prepared.

1. I wanted to see more of Ida’s childhood and not focus on Titanic.

2. I wanted to know how many siblings she had.

3. I wanted to know what the relationship was between her and Henry.

4. I wanted to see more of her home.

To go under, I focused on an object across from me above my eyes. Eyelids got heavy under the influence of vocal commands and they closed. As she went through the parts of the body, commanding them to relax, they relaxed on cue. Eyebrows, jaw, neck, and back. Going further down to the upper arms, knees, legs, fingers, and toes. By the time we reached my back, I had already left the body and floated above. No need for the pomp and circumstance when it knew what to do.

I was placed upon a hill overlooking a beach. A victorian spiral staircase appeared with exactly ten steps on it. I was instructed to climb down as the trance deepened. When I reached the last step, I was at the beach with many pathways laid out before me. The path to Ida was alit with pink daisies blooming over it so it was easy to identify as I had mentioned that I wanted some questions answered. I chose that pathway which was filled with fog.

When the fog cleared, I was dropped down from the sky and asked where I was. I didn’t know. This was something I had never seen. The scenery was…. breathtaking. A mountain was laid out to my left. A body of water at my back. To my right was a forest of trees, leaves in a variety of colors. The grass looks like a field of wheat, tall and gold. I vaguely remember answering that I was in Finland. All I could think was “ I have to paint this when I wake up.” A flock of blackbirds flew overhead in a startle. The breeze picked up and whipped through my hair. The air is nervous as if a storm is brewing.

Ida is four years old. Barefoot outside with damp dirt on her feet. She’s with her father near the woods. He’s fixing sticks onto a platform. I understand the concept, it’s a snare trap for a rabbit. Likely hunting for food. Never seen a trap in this shape. Leaf-shaped with sticks pointed toward the sky. Another section using the same shape with sticks pointed down is hanging above us.

A boy comes over to break off one of the sticks to a correct length but it snaps off too low at the base. He sighs and goes to the woods to get a replacement stick. I recognize him as Ida’s brother but I don’t realize until a moment later that Gustaf is also there behind her. Gustaf is slightly shorter than Ida, I am pleased to notice. But that means the other boy is also a brother. He looks closer to twelve rather than nine years old that my previous research had suggested. I am also confused by what his name is. Their father had a son named Johan and then married their mother a year later with another son, also named Johan. Which one was this? I filed that question away for later.

I refocused on the atmosphere. I am asked how everyone is doing. Everyone is nervous including me. I know why without seeing it. There’s a new baby in the house. Baby sister Saida has arrived as of yesterday. But why is everyone so on edge? I am asked the same question. I see a rapid flicker of images and respond matter-of-factly. “The last baby they had died a day later”…….Wait what?! I shudder at my own announcement.

It’s quite an odd feeling to describe being under trance. You are talking with your mouth and your voice but you are not in control of them. Ida is very much talking for me. I am only an observer in my own mind. To hear someone nonchalantly say their last infant sister died shortly after birth, in the same tone that I use to tell people what I want for dinner is odd, to say the least.

No one is excited about the baby. The older people are nervous about her dying. Ida is more concerned with losing her status as the only daughter rather than the eldest daughter.

We go forward again in time. Ida is now eight years old. We are all settling down for bed. It’s late at night. Cold too. We are all piled into one back room of the house. The floor is wooden planks, so are the walls. There are no curtains or rugs. No furniture in this room beyond the chest of drawers. Very little furniture in the house at all. All handmade. Not even any toys. No bed frames or mattresses either. I am struck by how empty and sad-looking this household is. I can see the fire-burning lantern in the middle of the floor, giving off light. The parents are together on the far right wall. The brothers are cuddled together on the far left wall. Saida and Ida are cuddled together on their own wall. Nested under the worn, patched blankets, Saida is whimpering and looking at the left wall window in concern. I don’t see or hear any thunder or lightning to understand what concern she has. Ida allows Saida to wraps around her for comfort and I understand the feelings of rivalry have faded as the lantern is blown out.

We go forward once more in time. Ida is on a wooden unpainted wagon, pulled by barefoot horses. There are six men with her in this wagon. Spirits are high. Everyone is talking and laughing. Some are smoking. They are telling bad jokes to ease the nervousness. I look up at the landscape. I don’t like it. There are no trees here. They have been cut and uprooted. Stumps burned away. This is a flat meadow with no hills or mountains. Sapphire blue sky and dried yellow grass…. Sweden. How odd that it resembles its flag in coloring. Ida is not impressed by this view. The openness of the meadow bothers her. She’s used to forests. We are going to the harbor to catch a boat there to England. Ida’s home harbor is closed down. I do not know why.

I can see the dirt road lead to the sea. There is a small steamer there, I know it is there for us. One smokestack, It can’t be fast. It looks like a bath toy in my eyes. Ida is impressed. I am not.

The scene changes again. We are on the Titanic again. Ida is at the third-class dining saloon. She is sitting down eating a plate of food. There’s meat and veggies. More food than she is used to. The silverware is made of metal, not wood. This is a step up. Something smells like tar down here. There are only women at her table and the other tables in this section. We are segregated I realize. Rather silly to think. I knew that men had their cabins at the bow of the ship and the women were placed at the stern. Still, seeing segregation is another thing in itself. The other women are not talking to Ida. No one is even looking at her. She looks at their clothes and then her own. She doesn’t feel like she belongs. They are dressed in cotton, she’s in wool. Their clothes are new, hers have been handmade. I am asked if I recognize anyone in my current life. A girl about her age catches her eye. She’s wearing an off-white blouse with a matching skirt. Her hat would do well to fit in at the Kentucky Derby. The lace trim on her sleeves and skirt hem seems to catch the light. Her white gloves are impressive. She looks like a princess down her. Ida wants to leave, she’s embarrassed by her looks in comparison.

Leaving the table, she hurries up the stairs with her head down. She runs smack dab into another person and falls. Trying to salvage herself, she flies to her feet to run, only to realize, she knocked another person down. I can feel my body squirm to break the trance and flee. The person is an officer by the looks of his navy uniform and polished black shoes. Oh, now you’ve done it. He calmly gets to his feet and reaches for her hand. He towers above her and it takes a moment for her to respond. She gives his right hand, her left hand. He reaches down, wraps his left around her waist, and quickly lifts her up. He places her on top of the stairs behind him, in the direction she was headed. The moment he lets go, he immediately goes pale and his eyes bug out. Ida is startled too and It takes me a moment to figure out what the issue is. It’s 1912, you don’t just go grab someone. Much less someone of the opposite sex. He apologizes and she stammers out incomprehensive babble. They exchange names and when he backs away, she scurries out of sight. She flees back down the hallway as fast as she can.

Ida makes it back to her cabin and shuts the door quickly behind her. She doesn’t look up at the mirror across from her. I can feel her shame and manage to break the trance enough that I feel my own hand brush against my physical face, trying to cover it. I’m burning in embarrassment as well. Even as I am writing this, I am still bothered by it.

This is not the last time they meet. I am asked what their relationship is like. I don’t answer but I can see Ida exploring the ship after she’s regained some confidence. She leaves the general room in third class and attempts to go into another door nearby. She is stopped by a gentleman leaving the room. He’s older, likely in his fifties. Gray mustache and black clothing, carrying his coat. He reeks of cigar smoke on his breath and I can smell it billowing out of the room. I understand why he’s stopped her but Ida is clueless. The room is clearly meant for males only but Ida can’t read the sign. The man is being kind as I believe he realizes she doesn't understand English.

Light pressure on her right arm has her turn quickly. Henry shoots her a quick smile and lightly roped his arm through hers, pulling her away from the man. I am asked how Henry makes her feel and the answer is quick to come. He made her feel safe in the confusing, exciting, possibly dangerous new world. He lets go of her arm once she’s out of sight from others. I cannot tell if he is escorting her away or if she instinctively heads back to her cabin. He does not walk away from her after setting her straight. From C deck to G deck is a long way walk to escort someone who doesn’t really need help. It’s also a long way to go without speaking. Her face burns but not from embarrassment. Once he gets her within sight of her cabin, he politely leaves her there and heads back away.

Hours? Days later? She walks down the corridor in an effort to familiarize herself with the ship. Henry smiles at her when their eyes meet in the hallway. Her pace quickens as her cheeks burn in embarrassment again. There is a touch of amusement this time to her thoughts as if she’s pleased he remembered her. Turning to look back at him, he smirks as he was watching her too. They say nothing this time. I’m unsure of the time difference between scenes. I am certain that she is interested in him. I am also certain he is aware of it. I cannot gauge how much of it if any is returned in her direction.

I am left to ponder that as I am brought of hypnosis only to realize what felt like minutes has taken two hours. Time flies when you are time-traveling. My one thought is to shut the computer off, toss it away, and cover my red face with my hands. The desire to scream in shame is overwhelming but I resist it. The hypnotist and I finish up the session laughing at it. My face burns again when I’m told that I smiled during the entire finale of the session, once I had reported that I had met Henry.