Some kind of convocation. All in all, something of a wilderness retreat; it feels like Purgatory. Figures are walking around aimlessly, like the spirit companions of Marley’s ghost. But this is no joke. I am amongst these figures, but just visiting somehow. All of them have been drained of their souls. This draining has been the work of a soul-draining force or power, a daimon. There is something of a dispassioned (evaporated) yearning amongst them for what has been lost, what has been taken from them. Among these figures are people I know. Among them is my mother. My father was clearly amongst them also. Many of the adult figures of my childhood world.