I neither believe nor disbelieve in either reincarnation or past lives especially since most of the people who do always remember themselves as kings, princesses, magicians, or some other equally important persons. They never remember themselves as slaves, farmers or merchants, which is what most people were in the past. However, I do have a past memory that I’ve had as long as I can remember. Whether it’s a genuine past memory, something I picked up from the collective unconscience or a dream I had, I don’t know. But since it does exist I accept it.
In it I am a haberdasher in my mid-30’s living with my buxom blond wife and my two healthy children, a boy 8 and a girl 6. We live in an apartment above my shop in a large city in northern Germany. It takes place right after the beginning of World War II.
On evening there’s a loud knock at our door. When I answer a German officer and a half dozen armed soldiers enter. The officer informs us that we are to be relocated, forcibly if necessary, immediately. I start to protest but my wife tells me that we’d just better do what we are told. We are allowed to pack one bag for each of us. When we’re finished we’re taken out side to a waiting army truck and told to get in back. As we do we see that there are other people already in sitting on the benches. I ask them what is going on but no one answer’s so we take our place besides them. After a couple more stops where more people get in, the truck stops and we are told to get out. The officer tells us to line up on the train platform. He then informs us to mark our possessions because they will be transported to our relocation camp later. After we’re finished the officer tells us to march down the platform and board the waiting train.
As we’re walking towards the train I can see the cars are just cattle wagons and that the soldiers are making the people board them. When it comes to my turn I stop and tell the guards that I’m certainly not going to travel in any filthy cattle wagon. They look at me for a second then call an Officer over and tell him that I am refusing to board the car. He turns to me and asks why I’m not boarding. I tell him I am a loyal German and that my family and I shouldn’t be treated so shabbily. The officer then calmly pulls his knife out of its scabbard and stabs me in the stomach. In disbelief I fall to the platform holding my belly. As I look up I see my wife and children now looking down at me are crying in horror.
As I lay there dying I turn my head towards the officer and say, “Why have you done this to me? I am a good German.”
The officer simply says, “No, you are a Jew.”