Ensign Monk (watching Bud fight the impulse not to take the fluid into his lungs): Relax, now, Bud. Don't hold your breath, take it in, just let yourself take it in. We all breathed liquid for nine months, Bud, the body will remember.

That wasn't a true dream, Robert, but an ancient organic memory millions of years old."
He pointed to the ascending rim of the sun through the groves of the gymnosperms. "The innate releasing mechanisms laid down in your cytoplasm millions of years ago have been awakened, the expanding sun and the rising temperature are driving you back down the spinal levels into the drowned seas submerged beneath the lowest layers of your unconscious, into the entirely new zone of the neuronic psyche. This is the lumbar transfer, total biopsychic recall. We really remember these swamps and lagoons. After a few nights you won't be frightened of the dreams, despite their superficial horror..."
...
After a few minutes he ignored the Colonel completely and listened to the subliminal drumming in his years, half-closed his eyes so that he could see the glimmering surface of the lake dapple across the dark underhang of the table. Opposite him Bodkin appeared to be doing the same, his hands folded over his navel.
JG Ballard, Drowned World

...damn you folks with multiples!