My daughter used to randomly start crying, and when asked what was wrong, she would say she missed her brother John, genuinely upset. She was an only child at the time. She was maybe 3 years old, and it happened on multiple occasions over about 6 months.

My father said that when my brother was 3, he said something like, “When I was bigger, I had a pretty girlfriend and we died in a car.”

My mom told me that when I was 3 or 4, I would scream and cry whenever we passed an old blue Volkswagen Bug. I told her, “That was the car I died in.” I also mentioned that it was very hot and that “I had a baby in my belly.”

My 4-year-old told me during her bath three days ago that when I was a baby, she was my grandpa. My husband and I were both in the room, but my grandfather died when I was very little, younger than she is now.

My 3-year-old, while we were looking out our front window, casually said, “When I was your age, I had a black cat.” I asked, “Oh, and what was your cat’s name?” She replied, “He didn’t have a name, but my son’s name was Ira.” She has never heard that name before in her life.

When my son was around 4, he asked my wife about “the house that you and Grandpa owned together.” They never owned a house together. But when I asked for more information, he replied without hesitation, “You know, the house that was burned down by the volcano.”

My little brother used to tell us, “That’s where I died,” every time we crossed a certain bridge when he was around 3 years old. He would also say, “My other family lives here,” whenever we were in a certain neighborhood.

My two-year-old son called me by the same nickname my late grandfather used to call me. The nickname was unique, and I had never told him about it, nor had I ever heard anyone else use it. It only happened once, but it’s enough to make me wonder.

My mom died 11 days before my son was born. My daughter was 3 at the time. When she was 20, I was telling a friend how my mom had died before my son was born. My daughter said, “No, she didn’t.” I replied, “I think I know when my mother died.” What my daughter said next made my blood run cold. She said that Granny came to the hospital to see me, sat with her in the back of the car, and pointed to Blue Ted in the shop, which is why we bought him. She then went on to tell me who was in the hospital room when they arrived. Granny sat at the window, she said. It gave me comfort and sure makes you think.

My parents told me that when I was little, I said I used to live in Atlantis and had recurring vivid dreams of earthquakes and floating in the sea.

When my nephew was about 4 or 6 years old, he asked me if I was going to make it to his 8th-grade graduation. I assured him that I could take off work, and he simply responded, “Alive?” Now that he’s 10, the older he gets, the more concerned I become about him reaching 8th grade.

My son and I were talking about my nursing school assignments, and he said, “Well, I kinda know this stuff anyway.” I asked, “You do?” and he replied, “Yeah, I was a doctor once, but it was like 500 years ago, and I think I died when I was around 33.”

These are but a few of the many haunting tales that have emerged, raising profound questions about the nature of consciousness, the continuation of the soul, and the remarkable capacity of young minds to transcend the limitations of their own experiences.

As we delve into these captivating stories, we are confronted with the unsettling possibility that the boundaries of our existence may extend far beyond the confines of a single lifetime. The tales shared here are not mere flights of fancy, but windows into the unknown, inviting us to ponder the mysteries that lie beyond the veil of the physical world.

Ultimately, these children’s recollections serve as a poignant reminder that the complexities of human existence extend far beyond our current understanding. They challenge us to open our minds, to embrace the unknown, and to consider the vast and awe-inspiring possibilities that may lie within the depths of our own consciousness.