One of my most treasured possessions is my bible.
Not because I am religious - I don't think I even believe in God, apart from when I'm really in the shit.
It appeared when I was about 9 years old. My Gran, who lived just up the lane from us, had been sorting out some boxes of stuff in her attic, and come across the bible.
It is a leather bound book, with gold metal clamped round the edges of the cover to protect it, and gilt edging to the pages. Inside the front cover there are two hand written inscriptions.
The first reads: "To William with affectionate love from Joey, in remembrance of February 7th 1867". I have no idea who William or Joey are, but it's the next inscription that nearly made my heart stop the first time I saw it (and several subsequent times since, if I'm honest).
It simply says my name, Jennie, and my surname, all spelt the same way that I spell mine. Underneath is the date, February 12th 1874.
February 12th is my birthday.
This might sound crazy, but even as a child, when I first saw this, I had a feeling of everything making sense. I had always had a very strong sense of deja vu, and sometimes I would come out with quite complicated pieces of information about places etc that there's no way I could have known, much to the astonishment of adults. Obviously this is something I can't really prove, but I do believe in re-incarnation and I have a funny feeling that this was me, if you get me. Why I have come back as the same person I have no idea, that is yet to make itself clear. I have looked into trying to find records about Jennie #1 to no avail.
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