The Soul Who Chose to Forget ✨A Short Story About Remembering You Were Love All Along

Before she fell into matter, she remembered everything.

 She remembered the way creation hummed — that soft, crystalline thrum of I AM that moved through every lattice of light. She remembered the way stars greeted her when she passed, bowing in recognition, because she too was made of their fire. She remembered the freedom of expanding and contracting at will, of dissolving into the Celestial Field and becoming a song, a color, a prayer.

 But she also remembered the assignment.

 Go down.

 Become human.

 Carry what they carry.

 And remember who you are from within it.

She agreed, not because she needed the challenge, but because she loved humanity with the devotion of a parent to a frightened child. To her, the Earth experiment was not a fallen world — it was a becoming. An ancient chrysalis waiting for the right frequency to awaken from the inside.

 And so she descended.

 And so she forgot.

Her first breath burned. The density shocked her — the heaviness of a body, the tightness of skin, the way emotions didn’t just move through you but became knotted inside you.

She had known fear as a vibration once, but she had never known the kind that lived in bone marrow. The kind that came passed down through generations of women who weren’t safe to feel. Men who weren’t safe to soften. Families who survived by shrinking.

 By the age of seven, she had already inherited:

•  the fear of being too much,

•  the shame of being too different, 

•  the belief that love must be earned,

•  and the quiet ache of a lineage that had forgotten its own brilliance.

  
  

 She didn’t understand any of it. She only knew she cried at night for reasons no one else could see, grief pooling in her chest like a tide she didn’t remember drowning in.

 This was the moment her guides whispered:

 Good. She can feel it. Now she can free it.

 But she couldn’t hear them yet.

 She was busy surviving.

By adolescence, the world felt unbearably loud — the conversations layered with unspoken pain, the judgments sharp like glass, the pressure to conform like a vise around her throat. She shape-shifted to belong. She dimmed herself to be loved.

 Every time she abandoned herself, her soul flinched — a tiny rupture in the field.

 And every rupture became a doorway.

At eighteen, the doorway cracked open. It happened silently. No big mystical moment. Just her sitting on her bedroom floor, knees pulled to her chest, overwhelmed by the weight she could no longer pretend not to feel.

 “I can’t live like this,” she whispered.

 And something ancient inside her agreed.

The remembering began. A warmth rose in her spine — subtle, patient, non-demanding. A presence she had felt before, somewhere far beyond Earth. It didn’t rescue her. It didn’t scold her. It simply told the truth:

 “My love… nothing is wrong with you.

 You are carrying what was never yours.”

 The lineage trembled.

 Ancestral ghosts leaned in.

 A thousand unspoken wounds fluttered in the dark like startled birds.

 This was what she came for.

 The healing did not happen all at once.

She met her fear. She met her shame. She met the part of her that believed she was unworthy of love unless she proved her value.

  She met the protector who learned to hustle for safety. She met the child who internalized every adult’s pain as her own responsibility.

 She met ancestors who didn’t know how to dream a life beyond survival. And with each meeting, she did not turn away.

She breathed. She stayed. She loved. Sometimes fiercely. Sometimes barely. Sometimes through tears that tasted like oceans she had once governed in other dimensions.

 Each time she chose presence over avoidance, a filament of light unwound a little more of what humans call “trauma” — but starseeds know as “frozen light.”

 Over years, the ice inside her thawed.

 And her soul began to shine through her skin again.

 What she once hated about being human — the fragility, the feelings, the confusion — became her greatest teacher.

She realized that embodiment wasn’t a punishment. It was the alchemical vessel. It was the crucible where light learned density and density learned to sing again.

 It was where ancestral timelines collapsed and new future templates became possible.

 It was where she became a bridge — between worlds, between dimensions, between the forgotten self and the true one.

She began to see that every time she loved a piece of her humanity back into wholeness, she wasn’t just healing herself. She was healing everyone who came before her. Everyone who would come after. And the entire grid of Earth, one coherent heartbeat at a time.

 This was the real mission.

 This was why she incarnated.

 One quiet morning — years later — she looked at her hands, her body, her breath, and felt a single, startling revelation:

 “I didn’t come here to escape my humanity.

 I came here to illuminate it.”

 The sky outside brightened. The field around her shimmered. The lineage whispered,

 Thank you. The Earth pulsed, Keep going. And her soul finally exhaled, You remembered.

 She embodied what she came to teach:

 That the old patterns are not the enemy.

 They are the raw material for alchemy.

 They are the doorway back to the self.

 They are the opening into a love so vast it can hold lifetimes of pain and still shine.

 She was no longer afraid of being human.

 Because she had learned the truth:

 Being human is not the limitation — it is the initiation. 

And she — like all old souls, all starseeds — came here not to transcend the world……but to transform it by transforming herself, from the inside out.

  Author’s Note

If this story stirred something true inside you… if it awakened a memory, a longing, or a recognition you can’t quite name… I would love to hear from you.

 Stories like this are living bridges — between your experience and mine, between the part of you that remembers and the part that is still finding its way home.

 Your reflections, your resonance, your “this is me” moments are not just comments — they are part of the collective remembering this story was written to support.

 If this journey struck a chord, I warmly invite you to share your thoughts, insights, or personal reflections. Your voice matters here.

 And if you’d like to walk further with me — into the worlds of healing, remembrance, multidimensional embodiment, and the return to your own luminous nature — you can explore more of my work at:  https://www.multidimensionalu.com/

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for feeling.

 And thank you for remembering — in your own way, in your own time.

From my heart to yours 💖

A’sha Love