I had this notion last night about what might have been a likely medical cause for my death in 1915.
A well-placed machine gun volley to the back, while almost back in the trenches, would put a large number of tightly-grouped, large-caliber bullets in one small area. If those bullets were around the heart, my knowledge of anatomy says I wouldn’t have suffered long.
Consider 3-4 large bullets in the vicinity of the heart. Several things are going on. First, each bullet travels through the body, leaving a shock wave that tears flesh open in its wake. In this way, a 1/3 inch bullet can produce a path 2 or 3 inches wide. Automatic fire would keep them closer together, so what you’d have is effectively several very quick, sword-like cuts to the heart and its surrounding tissue. Aortas are severed, the heart is blown wide open in mid-expansion, and the rapid loss of blood pressure would cause unconsciousness so quickly, I might have been out before the pain could register. It’s a bit like severing the fuel line and oil hose simultaneously on a car going full-speed; you can bet on a catastrophic shutdown in a fraction of a second.
I had a flash that might have even been memories of life between lives. The world was like a blank field, where here or there an image of a person or place would bubble through, fish-eyed and distorted. Over all of it, I felt a terrifying sense of disorientation, as if “up” and “down” were no longer relevant even though I felt I should be able to find them. Now and then I would be able to peer through clearly and manifest in something that kind of worked like a comfortable form, but those chances only came every so often. I had a flash of one such window where I perched on a tank (from which army I don’t know) in the Second World War, unseen by the soldiers around me or the people along the road. I think I had to wait for a window like that to open before I could be born in this life.
This is getting into weird territory, and I don’t expect I’ll ever prove a word of it except maybe the cause of death bit. It all sort of reads like a movie script or something, so I wasn’t in a hurry to record it last night because it doesn’t add much to the log. There’s a very good chance this was 100% cryptomnesia in this case.
I still want to see if I can find a detailed report on my cause of death and if it matches what I think happened. I’m sure if it was an artillery shell, it wasn’t during a heavy bombardment but a stray one that just happened to get me; I’m more sure that it probably wasn’t a shell at all and that I’d grossly misinterpreted an early memory.