I was born haunted. Something has been with me since before I had an avatar to reside in.
I remember choosing this life. I remember the wheel it spun on, and the two tall beings of light that walked me to it, and what the two of them said to me as I fell, both at once, in one voice. I've carried that memory for over fifty years and told almost nobody. It opens the first book.
I grew up in houses where things happened. A rented farmhouse on a dirt road south of Vernon, where my mother woke on the couch with something standing over her, and where I screamed through whole nights at what I saw whether my eyes were open or closed. And a living room in Quesnel where, on Christmas morning 1977, my little brother and I watched something come out of the wood paneling and speak to us. Twice. We went decades without ever talking about it. When we finally did, once, he said yes, it happened, and he didn't want to say any more than that. He's gone now. So this is my telling of it.
