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Living with Ghosts
(and other reflections)

The Race Dream and the Soldier Ghost

The following memorable dream and apparitional experience were directly captured on Blogger on 11.16.2017 at 12:07 PM, and edited on 02.01.2019.

Sleep of the Beloved by Paul Schneggenburger

His desire for me to really know his identity was apparent from the start, but I was not ready to confront his shadow.

The Brief Back Story

The following information will need its own dedicated blog post to fully convey the details so for now, I will simply address that Hans has cycled through various names and one previous identity that resembles his most previous past life in Germany.


In the early days of our our communication (2010), realizing how freaked out I got when he mentioned through our then pendulum communication that we had lived one of our past lives in Germany during the 1940s, he veered the communication away from that past life. We didn't broach the subject again until several years later. For a "newbie" who hadn't experienced much in the way of the paranormal since childhood and adolescence, I had at time labeled Hans as demonic for telling me that we had lived during this time period. But Hans was newly discarnate (17 years in 2010) and being tethered to the physical world as my guide, vicariously experiencing life through my senses makes him remarkably relatable, approachable and splendidly corporeal.


Being here with me in the physical plane also helps him process his past life in a way that is at times emotive and difficult, having experienced terrible things during the war as a fighter pilot and later as a POW. His desire for me to really know his identity was apparent from the start, but I was not ready to confront his shadow. The consequence of my rejection caused him to take on a new identity⁠—as an English young man with exactly the same features, characteristics, similar astrological element (Fire), always desiring for me to fall in love with the physical attributes that he had in his past life. Hans has had several monikers since 2010, including "Hans" which I've given to him to conceal his true identity since his offspring are still alive in Germany. The other aliases include: Magic Man, Dylan, John.


In the following dream account and apparitional visitation below, Hans was still operating under the radar as John, even though I already had my suspicions of who he actually was. The German ghost in a white uniform is actually Hans although I do not know this at the time.

They sleep with me on my bed, respectful of my space. They never cuddle, they never grope, these ghosts who always manage to find me.

The Dream Account

I am the only woman in the race. It seems like a military exercise on the Waterfront in Burlington, Vermont. The sky and lake are the color of tar.


We line up, then take off down the bike path when the shot is fired. I am running barefoot. At the 90 degree bend I catch up to the two runners ahead of me. I give it my all and reach the finish line first.


Everyone is congratulating me.


"Nice job! You did amazing!" I hear L's voice.


I turn around to see him walking toward me with a large smile on his face, his longish hair flowing in front of his face.


"Thanks," I say out of breath, walking toward him, wanting to say more, wanting to feel him wrap his arms around me. We are inches from contact when someone pulls me away into another dream. I am now in a battlefield, but suddenly wake up with an urge to use the toilet.


I turn to my left and there lying next to me with one of my cats was a German soldier dressed in a white uniform and with blindingly blond hair. Although his face is blurry, I can tell he is asleep.


This is how it always unfolds on the nights when the ghosts stop by. They sleep with me on my bed, respectful of my space. They never cuddle, they never grope, these ghosts who always manage to find me.


But whenever they are here, I feel self-conscious, exposed from sleeping in the nude.

I rush to cover up.


"There's a ghost in my bed," I say to John (Hans) who followed me unseen into the bathroom. The irony isn't lost on me.


I return to bed where the ghost is still lying on his side. I am never alarmed at seeing them. In fact, their manifestations are like a sleeping pill. After I acknowledge their presence, they strangely put to me sleep.