I See Dead People

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I see dead people. I really do. Or maybe there is no such thing as death. Or maybe I am dead too. I feel alive though. I have really bad cramps and my flight from New York to LA last night, which should have been six hours, tops, but somehow took eight, led to suffering. Suffering is proof of life. Alternatively, the gratitude I felt when I woke up in my own bed is also a well known trope of being among the living. Then there’s the fact that I have a mother. I’m estranged from her which is incredibly painful, rather, it was, but now less so, as I received solace when I accidentally communicated with some dead relatives. I wrote about it in this Coveteur piece that came out yesterday: A Full Moon Ceremony Experience

I didn’t write a Substack Saturday story this week. So, please enjoy the Coveteur story instead. Also, just for kicks, I kicked down the paywalls from my full archive to entice you to hop down the rabbit hole of my past work.

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