Think about it. You find yourself in bed, tired, ready to close your eyes and drift into a slumber. You have many ideas about what you want to do the next day, and are really thinking about what has already happened ("she said I was cute," for example) in the past twenty or so hours. Finally you drift off, wake up the next morning, and most of those memories are gone. You're almost a different person who just doesn't care as much about something (a project, for example) or cares more about something than the person that you were before you went to sleep (phew, read that again slower if you didn't get it). Now suppose that reincarnation is really the way that death works, that when we die we are recycled into another body. Some people here and there say that they can remember things unique to their older lives, but only at a very young age. They soon forget anything about their pasts lives as soon as they pass by their toddler years. Most of the time something really, unbelievably spectacular worth remembering won't happen every day, so we usually just forget generally everything that happened yesterday, the day before, and the day before that. Who remembers if they discussed politics with their best friend two weeks ago, right? This 'connexion (tolkien word there)' that I'm drawing is like a fractal, a geometric figure formulated by Polluck (I believe) that compares the look of small things inside of large things. Take for example the top of the Great Pyramid. Notice how it looks like the rest of the pyramid, or the top of a mountain. Fractals can't be applied to absolutely everything but it is intriguing when these conclusions can be drawn. So I'm saying that death is like a bigger version of going to sleep and waking up the next morning. Sometimes you remember about what happened before, sometimes you don't. We only remember what's important, right? Think about it.