Deaths of former Incarnations

I remember two: (one) a young French peasant woman who died of starvation and exposure, in late fall or early winter, in the 8th month of pregnancy, of an unknown year (certainly she did not know it) in the late 14th or early 15th century; and (two) a middle-aged northern European male aristocrat who died of apoplexy brought on by a protracted fit of rage in the late fall or early winter of 1793 or '94. The former I call Jehanne la Sylvaine; the latter I have no name for, but maybe I'll invent one when I get around to telling his story. I must emphasize from the beginning that what I remember of these two curiously disparate existences is the circumstances of their deaths, the incidents that led up to their dying, and their thoughts and self-perceptions as death approached; everything that I know of their lives is seen backwards, as in a mirror, from those final hours. In neither case do I recall the death itself, nor any survival afterwards of consciousness--no "up the tunnel, into the light," no Heaven, Hell or Limbo: Nothing intervenes between their final thoughts and my recollection of them; rather, their lives, and deaths, have somehow been encompassed without hiatus or interval in this my present conscious existence. I have no explanation of how I come to have these memories, and I infer nothing from them; they simply are.