‘Those who dream during the day will always have an advantage over those who only dream at night’ - Edgar Alan Poe
I must have been born under a star that caused me to dream at day and night. By chance, or some grand plan, I was given a name that meant ‘one that dreams’ and dreamt I did. I was born in land of scarce, in a country under communist/socialist regimen, in a family of scarce, where working hard was bringing a bread to the table and travel was off limits. But, I dreamed of a faraway lands, its peoples, its riches, its beauty; I wanted to see a world but had no means. One day it was time to decide what to do with my own life and I enrolled into the school of maritime engineering so I could sail and see the world. Two years later I was apprenticing aboard the ocean-going merchant ship that, by chance (was it, I wonder…) took me to Port Said, Egypt.
The day was young and few of us decided to explore Cairo and its ancient structures. I did not know much about these and when I got to the Giza Plateau, I was stricken by a sight before me. The ancient edifices were immensely big, beautiful and mysterious. The Sphinx greeted me with its Mona Lisa smile, and I could not take my eyes of it. It was so huge, and it was difficult to comprehend who would have carved such a monument and why. I had an entire day to explore the pyramids at the Giza Plateau; I walked up to one third of the height of the Great Pyramid and enjoyed the view from there. As the day was nearing its end, the light was getting low and shadows were growing long. I started feeling an unease as it was almost time to leave the plateau. I saw few horse riders, leisurely riding on the dunes past the plateau, enjoying this incredible site, now bathing in the low sun rays, making them look as if golden.
Suddenly, I felt my chest closing in pain in realisation that these riders are staying here, but I am not, I must leave. I desperately wanted to stay there, but that was not an option. I had a horrible feeling I would never come back over here and it was tearing me apart. I was now panicking in my mind, wondering how will I live my life without this amazing place? How will I survive without this and what would be the point of living anyway if I am not here? I was so struck by this realisation that I could hardly breathe; I have left the Plateau and came back to my cabin aboard the ship and fell to bed; I stayed in bed for two days, depressed and obsessed with the place I have just seen. This was the start of the long pull to come back, that lasted for 30+ years. This has also set me on my journey of discovery of who I was.
It took a serious soul searching to understand the pull Egypt was exhorting on me, which was getting tighter over the years. It took few past life regression therapies, doing a degree in archaeology, doing the jobs I did not want to do, contacting the dead, talking to my spiritual guides, and finding out the purpose of coming to this place at this time. I finally had some answers. I had two past lives in Egypt: one as a female librarian assistant at the library of Atlantia, and other as a man, a High Priest, serving in one of the temples along the Nile, long time ago.
My name was Ebesi Isaat, and I was a young Khemitian (Egyptian) living in the time when Khemet was in contact with Atlantis, an island in the Atlantean Ocean, positioned centrally between west coast of Portugal and east coast of North America. I was born to Khemitian family, my father was architect and knew the secrets of pyramid building, just as I did. I also had the sister, whose daughter was left in my care one day. I was a teenager and that day I dared my niece to walk through the black mud of Nile; she did not want to go, but I pulled her deeper and deeper into the water. Suddenly her hand was snatched out of mine, and she went under the waves, never to come back. It was probably a crocodile that took her, and it was my fault this happened. I was devastated then and now, as I kept the pain of the guilt till today. This was a reason for trying to forget this life; the memory of it was too painful.
Few years later, I was working as a librarian in Poseida bay, the harbor of the main city of Atlantia. I was an assistant to Delta Ungbrahe (my daughter, in present life) and we were working in the main library on data storing that was supposed to be taken to a safe location, somewhere in Khemet. That fatal day, the last day of our life, Delta and I were getting ready to take our collection of data crystals from Atlantis to Khemet. But it was not going to happen; the implosion that shook the whole continent brought the burning plasma on us and we perished, along with thousands who were trying to escape it. I did not come back home to Khemet in that life. Now I understand the reason I felt the pain in my chest when I stood at the Giza Plateau for the first time in this life, as I was fearing I would never see it again.
To find out the intricate details of this life, read the chapter called Life Two, in the book ‘A Soul Remembers’ by Lea Kapiteli. The link to her website is:
The memories of other life, when I was a male high priest of Ptah, started to come back just before I was getting ready to go to Egypt again.
My memories arrived with a deep chest pain; I saw myself walking in sandals, wearing long white dress type garment (Egyptian tradition still maintains this type of long loose shirt for men called gamis) and walking towards a building where my two daughters were waiting for me to see them. I wanted to see my face, so I asked for it and there it was, a man with droopy eyes, thick lips he hated, black a wide nose and black hair. This was all I got from this download of my soul memories.
For decades, I also had frequent nightmares where I am a prisoner in small stone walled room, with a tiny opening for air and light, a bit higher than my height. In the nightmare, this is the only way out, but the opening is too small for me to squeeze through. Even this did not look possible while having this heavy 3D body, I was still attempting to go through, night after night. Some nights, while having this nightmare, I would succeed, and I was free on the other side of the wall. I was free to run and fly if I wanted.
Back to 2019…
The day came and, finally, 32 years later, in 2019, I arrived in Cairo, again. I arrived as a tourist, but now I had background in Egyptian archaeology and felt great.
The next day I was at Giza Plateau, doing what an archaeologist-tourist would do: exploring the entire area with the friend of mine who has just moved from Melbourne to Cairo. This was the most fun day I had for the last 32+ years, walking in the sand, entering the tombs of nobles, checking sarcophagi, entering the pyramids, touching the stones that were placed there thousands of years ago… and finding the ones that looked like they were cut by some unknown ancient power tools, all over the plateau! I came back to the Giza Plateau many times and kept exploring the innumerable features the plateau had to offer, while staying in Cairo.
During my stay, I joined the organised tour lead by Dr. Samir Osmanagic, an alternative archaeologist.
When the group got to Temple of Hathor at Dendera, I was stricken by the site: here, there were many small openings in the walls of the temple, of the same size and shape as the ones in my nightmares! It would have seemed, I have found the edifice where I was kept in solace for a long time but, I could not find the exact room.
When we got to Cairo we visited the Museum of Egyptian Antiquates. This museum had many interesting and unforgettable artefacts and I got lost browsing from room to room. I stopped when I reached one of the corners: I was now staring into the black bust of the priest called Mentuemhat, the priest of Amun, Mayor of Thebes and councillor, dating from 25-26th Dynasty.
Figure SEQ Figure \* ARABIC 1: Mentuemhat, the priest of Amun, 25-26th Dynasty, Egyptian Museum of Antiquities, 2019. Here he was presented a bit older, but I still recognised this face: droopy eyes, large lips, wide nose… was this my face when I was a priest in Khemet? This man had a son, but I had two daughters… Could this man have been my father I wonder. I would need a new download of my soul memories to find out more.
Every time I was near the papyrus reeds and Nile, I cried. The Nile water is now blue, after the building of the High Dam, but the memories I hold are of the black, muddy water. I could feel the same pain in my chest as the one I felt when the first memories of the tragic event came back, in which I caused the drowning of my niece Ella. This was the life of Ebesi Isaat, and her memories are still haunting me to this day.
The next chapter of my life in this modern time started at the beginning of 2020, when I received the gift of healing. I haven’t’ asked for it, nor was I interested in healing, but here we are; the flow of energy runs through my hands on demand. When I consulted a medium, I was told, this was a present from my Ancient Home, the home I will return to when I die. I was also told to use this new gift. I started using it, working on people with different ailments, who were nearby and far away, very close to me and on the other side of the planet; the result was the same: the energy knows where to go and what to do, no matter where the person is located. So far, I know this energy removes pain and inflammation. During the energy healing session, I also receive the internal picture of the person in case, identifying the location of the inflamed tissue and even cancerous growth if it happens to be there. The picture is kind of like an X-Ray but in blue and black. I am in process of learning how to use this energy to help people who are willing to try this type of healing.
Let’s see what happens next time I am in Egypt; I will share all the info that comes my way!