A Posthumous Wink – Reincarnation Revelation

“Maybe love at first sight isn’t what we think it is. Maybe it’s recognizing a soul we loved in a past life and falling in love with them again.” ― Kamand Kojouri

In this account of synchronicity, memory, and unmistakable resemblance, a liberated spirit leaves a final calling card, a posthumous wink and a reminder that life doesn’t end; it evolves, and sometimes circles back for an encore to rekindle what it began.

The Titanic Incarnation

As an intuitive–medium–channel, I have sometimes become the conduit for those who need to send a final message, a way of tying up loose ends that linger after a transition. This is one of those times.

I’ve no doubt about reincarnation, having experienced my own past-life memories, and I’ve also archived some amazing past-life accounts on my podcast. This story is recent (2025). The person in question was someone I knew. After his passing, I discovered something extraordinary, a link that confirmed what he had always suspected about himself.

At his funeral, I noticed an extensive display of Titanic memorabilia, books, models, photos, and artifacts. It was clearly a lifelong passion, although I had no idea that display was an indication of how deep his connection ran.

A day or so afterward, while talking with a friend, I received a fleeting impression with an image of him dressed in a dark uniform. He was wearing a cap and the uniform had metal/brass buttons. I didn’t see his face clearly; my attention was drawn to the details of the uniform, the hat band and the solid buttons.

A week later, the “reveal” arrived. I happened to catch a local newscast mention of an upcoming Titanic exhibit. As I listened, a distinct impression, part voice, part knowing, came through: “I was an engineer.”

Instantly, I recognized him, my recently departed friend. He impressed upon me that when he had been aboard the Titanic, he died. It was also impressed that his sense of duty bound him to the ship. He would never have taken a place on a lifeboat.

This is the amazing part of my work as a medium, how those who connect with me can impress upon my mind and heart their feelings, their emotions. It is so incredibly powerful, a lived experience.

This connection was more than vision; it was immersion. Waves of emotion rolled through me. I felt his sense of accomplishment and pride in that life moment, radiant and full, in the honor of serving as part of the Titanic crew. There was awe too, the wonder of standing within a masterpiece of human ambition, every gauge and light a testament to unrivaled success. Then came the ache: the disbelief, the heartbreak of watching that marvel falter, the sound of loss echoing through steel and sea.

The emotions ran full spectrum, pride, awe, and joy, then giving way to despair and grief. But what surprised me most was what lingered: pride. Even after so many decades, that light still glowed. It was pride that kept him tethered to the memory, still marveling at what humanity could build, still in awe of having been part of it. (Even without full memory of that lifetime.)

For me, to feel that depth of emotion, to sense his resonance so clearly, was extraordinary. It was a gift for which I am deeply grateful. These experiences are treasures, windows into another soul’s truth. The heart, I’ve learned, is the bridge between worlds.

He provided a posthumous wink, a subtle, purposeful disclosure. The signs had been there all along, but the full connection only crystallized through after-death communication.

Some information arrived as words; the rest was simply known, stronger than telepathy, infused with absolute certainty. Curious to confirm, I searched online for images of Titanic engineers. Among a group photograph taken aboard the RMS Olympic, I felt immediately drawn to one man. His uniform was similar to what I had “seen,” and he was labeled No. 3 – P. Sloan, Senior Electrician. We could track him down.

I forwarded what I found with one of his close friends who responded with a photo of the deceased and a related historical photo that illustrated a resemblance that was astonishing. Same features. Same energy.

His friends confirmed he had been born with a natural gift for understanding engines and electricity. So much so that they relied on his ability to fix anything mechanical, and he had always believed he’d been on the Titanic.

Now, his story had come full circle. Through this after-death communication, he provided a missing piece, a chance to validate what he had long felt in his heart. The photograph was the final wink: the two men, a century apart, mirrored in time.

Legacy of the Titanic Engineers

The Titanic’s engineers, thirty-five men in total, displayed extraordinary courage and selflessness. None survived. When the ship struck the iceberg, they remained below deck to keep the lights, pumps, and communication systems running for as long as possible.

Their sacrifice delayed the sinking, giving precious extra minutes for passengers to reach safety. By keeping the ship’s power alive, they illuminated the way for others to survive, and in some cases, to return, life after life, with messages still to deliver.

Reincarnation Evidence and Resonance

Skeptics want proof, something measurable, repeatable, undeniable. Many cases do exist that provide exactly that. One of the most compelling comes from Robert Snow, a former Captain with the Indianapolis Police Department who served for thirty-eight years before retiring in 2007.

A career investigator and the author of more than twenty books, Snow was trained to rely on facts. On a whim, he agreed to undergo a past-life regression. His plan was simple: debunk it. But the universe had other plans.

What began as an experiment turned into a full-blown investigation when he started recognizing names, places, and events that matched his hypnotic recollections. Through meticulous detective work, the same precision he once applied to homicide cases, he confirmed 28 verifiable points from the diary of 19th-century artist Carroll Beckwith. Every one of them checked out.

Snow noted the professional risk in going public, and the paranormal incidents that seemed to accompany his awakening, reminders that truth can sometimes be stranger than evidence. Podcast Link

He isn’t alone. Stéphane Allix, author of When I Was Someone Else, followed a similar path. A journalist and war correspondent accustomed to trusting data over intuition, he found himself unraveling a mystery that demanded he listen to something quieter, his inner guidance. Bit by bit, the details aligned. Along the way, unexpected help arrived just when he needed it, as though unseen collaborators were quietly steering him toward the truth. Podcast Link

And then there’s Jeffrey Keene, author of Fire in the Soul: Reincarnation from Antietam to Ground Zero. [His comparison photos are outstanding.] His case spans centuries, linking his current life to that of a Civil War officer, and even farther back to the life of Kusunoki Masashige, a 14th-century samurai known for his loyalty. Jeffrey tells of a moment in a bookstore when a young boy, no more than five, stared at him with piercing recognition and said a single word: samurai. Neither the child nor his mother understood why. But Jeffrey did. Podcast Link

Researchers like Walter Semkiw, building on the pioneering work of Dr. Ian Stevenson and Dr. Jim Tucker at the University of Virginia, have cataloged thousands of such cases, adults and children alike, all providing evidence that consciousness continues beyond death. Many include xenoglossy, the spontaneous ability to speak or write in languages never learned in the current life, and verifiable geographic and familial connections. Podcast Link

A Posthumous Wink

While these moments are not proof in the scientific sense, they are reminders that life doesn’t end, it simply rearranges itself. We leave breadcrumbs for our future selves, in names, fascinations, and faces that feel too familiar to dismiss. The engineer who kept the lights on for others may have returned to do it again in a new age, through circuitry and sparks of a different kind.

Reincarnation, when seen this way, is about continuity, consciousness carrying forward what it still loves, what it still needs to understand.

Visual Comparison Summary

Modern photo (color)
Shows a man with a medium build and fair hair, wearing a light mustache. His face is somewhat oval, tapering slightly toward the chin, with broad cheekbones, a defined brow ridge, and eyes that are moderately deep-set. The nose appears straight, proportionate to the rest of the face. The expression suggests thoughtfulness or focus.

Historic photo (Titanic-era, Peter Sloan)
Depicts a man in formal uniform with a cap, also wearing a neatly trimmed mustache. His face shape is similar, oval with a slightly tapered chin, prominent cheek structure, and balanced facial symmetry. The eyes in both cases appear proportionally spaced and of similar depth relative to brow and cheek contour.

Points of resemblance

Both have a similar overall facial geometry: oval shape with taper toward the chin. Cheekbones and eye placement align in proportion. Both wear a mustache of comparable style and thickness, lending a visual echo across eras. The nose bridge and brow line appear structurally consistent, with a straight midline profile and moderate nasal width. Both faces convey a measured, composed demeanor, adding to the impression of kinship or energetic correspondence.

Differences

Lighting and image quality differ significantly (the older photo is formal and shadowed; the newer one is casual and softly lit), which may alter perception of details. The Titanic-era photo shows a slightly fuller face, possibly reflecting age, nutrition, or lens distortion of early photography. Hairstyle and clothing context naturally differ by period.

Overall impression: When viewed side by side, there are striking parallels in facial structure and expression, particularly in the lower face and eyes. These visual consistencies support the sense of recognition, not necessarily as proof of identity, but as symbolic resonance across time.

Blink and a Smile

In an impish flourish of humor and proof of presence, the recently transitioned Titanic fan is leaving his mark. Multiple friends have been comparing notes, cars starting without keys, lights engaging without contact. He’s shedding light, quite literally, on the fact that the afterlife is an upgrade to a broader spectrum of being.

These testimonies challenge us to reconsider who we really are, not as isolated identities, but as ongoing participants in a shared evolution of spirit.

Thank you to the family for allowing me to share this story.