While Ryan and Peachie were having a late lunch with me at M.'s cafe yesterday afternoon, they told me stories of other Spirit Questors and workshop participants from previous years, many of whom I could no longer remember. Among them was a young man named Peter, whose name and face I could not even recall. According to them Peter died years ago. Most probably of a stroke, they said, because he worked too hard.

Last night I sat at my desktop and a young man appeared on my right. It was Peter. "Oh--it's you!" I said, and I saw him exactly as he looked like when he was a participant in my workshops.

He came only to tell me what he really died of.