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I did dream that night.

I was in the middle of the desert, sitting on sandy dirt that seared my naked skin. The merciless sun beat down, frying my back like bacon. God, it was hot. The heat felt tangible and heavy, crushing me like swaths of velvet. I swallowed and my dry tongue shifted like a small, dead animal in my mouth. Even breathing hurt, like inhaling boiling water.

There was someone lying beside me. She was still alive, but barely. Someone had betrayed us, left us here, but the shock and sorrow had long since drained away. Now, we were just animals, same as the lizards that shimmied by, or the vultures that wheeled overhead.

Something caught my eye in the distance, more a motion than anything: an undulating through the gentle shrub-dotted hills. I squinted, unable to tell what it was.

But it was coming towards us, and fast.

I woke with a gasp. Rolling over, I nearly tumbled out of the cot. I reached out wildly until my fingers connected with the battery-operated lamp.

I sat up in bed, forcing myself to take deep breaths. Okay. I was in a yurt at the Center. Not dying in a desert.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt such physical agony in a dream. But I rarely remembered my dreams, and maybe that was a good thing.

I glanced at the window. In the time it took to swing my head, I saw a face, solid and reflecting back the lamp’s light behind the window screen.

But when I blinked, my eyes focusing, nothing was there.

I turned off the lamp and crept to the window, scanning as my heart pounded.

There was just that expanse of empty land, bathed in the faint opalescent glow of moonlight.

My phone’s alarm pulled me out of darkness. Sun beamed in from the open window. It had taken hours to fall back asleep after my scare, and as I sat up, my body felt heavy with exhaustion and disquiet. The memory of the face in the window came back to me.

It had to have been my imagination, primed by the Stargirl -like nightmare. I remembered now that I’d had nightmares after the movie too. Catherine’s death scene in the desert had been a whole montage, ending with a long shot of her corpse. I couldn’t remember if the dreams had included another person—presumably Catherine?—beside me.

In any case, I needed to focus. My throat felt like sandpaper from the dry desert air, and my water bottle was empty. My phone’s battery was also almost out; there had to be outlets in the castle. I dressed quickly and stepped outside.

It was still chilly, but the ascending sun warmed my shoulders, shining out of another unbroken cerulean sky. The bathroom was empty, though showers rushed in the room beyond. I brushed my teeth, hoping I wouldn’t come face-to-face with any cheerful, naked attendees first thing in the morning. I myself would wait until an off-peak time to shower.

On the way to the dining room I waved at Dawne and Karen, sipping from stoneware mugs on the veranda. Inside, a simple but hearty buffet awaited: cinnamon-flecked oatmeal, hard-boiled eggs, warm stacks of toast, salted butter, homemade jams, local honey. I filled up a plate and poured a huge mug of coffee, then headed back outside.

“You ladies ready to get started?” Karen smiled as I took a seat.

“Absolutely.” Dawne tipped her face to the sun. She wore pleather leggings and another pair of towering heeled boots.

“Totally.” I swallowed a bite of toast. “How do you think the ‘sessions’ will go?”

“No clue.” Karen shrugged. “This is my first time at this type of thing.”

“I’m sure we’ll start slow,” Dawne said. “That’s how it usually works. Maybe some morning vinyasa to wake us up and get us in our bodies?”

Steven, in the same worn baseball cap, zoomed past us with a cardboard box.

“Hi, Steven!” Dawne cried.

He barely dipped his chin as he passed.

“Not the friendliest, huh?” Karen mused.

“I think he’s cute.” Dawne smirked. “And based on dinner, an amazing chef.”

“He made dinner?” I asked.

“That’s what Grace told me. Apparently, he lived in India for a few years and knows how to make everything from scratch.” She twirled a lock of hair. “I’d love to meet a man who can cook.”

I approached the yoga tent with dread curdling in my gut. A memory flashed: sitting in the car as Dad drove us to church feeling this same apprehension. Knowing I’d have to watch Pastor John give the sermon and then shake his hand on the way out of the sanctuary. Knowing he’d stare past my shoulder, smile through me like I was a ghost.

Inside, it smelled like sage. Grace was setting out a half circle of cushions while Moon bent over a plate, blowing on the smoke coming from the dried leaves. Sol sat with his eyes closed in meditation.

“Hi!” Grace whispered. She wore a vintage sandwich shop T-shirt and her tangerine hair was gathered into two braids. She gestured to the cushions, and I sat and waited as the others filed in. Dawne’s laugh rang out, causing Moon to flinch.

“Quiet, everyone!” Grace called softly.

Jonah nodded hello as he sat on my right side. What was that woodsy scent he wore? Or was it just him? I breathed it in hungrily. Mikki plopped on my other side, looking grim.

Moon walked around the circle, flapping the smoke towards us with a feather. I knew from my yoga days that sage was supposed to cleanse. My chest constricted. What was going to happen? My only hope was to fly under the radar as long as humanly possible.

Sol opened his eyes and smiled. “Good morning, everyone.”

“Good morning,” we echoed.

Moon settled next to him. “How’d everyone sleep?”

“ Great ,” Dawne called out.

“Good. Any dreams?” Sol scanned the room. His eyes stopped on me. I looked down.

“Not yet, huh? That’s okay. We’ve got one more night.” He got to his feet. “We have a lot of work to do today, friends. The plan is to have four sessions with a lunch break in the middle. Sound good?” Sol clapped his hands together. “So with that said, who’d like to go first?”

No sound, no movement; we all sat there frozen.

He chuckled. “ Go first and do what? I can hear you asking. You’ll see. This is your opportunity to be courageous.”

“I’ll go.” Karen spoke. Relief flooded my system.

“Wonderful. Come on down, Karen.” He beckoned, then gently clasped her shoulder. “So I’m going to ask you a series of questions. Please try to answer everything, even if the answer is I don’t know .”

A gentle pulsing sound: Moon was tapping a soft metronome into her drum. It felt discordant to see her acting as the quiet observer instead of the animated leader of the night before.

“Will do.” Karen smiled nervously.

“So.” Sol started walking in a slow circle around her. “Last night at dinner you told us you suck at relationships. Right?”

“That’s correct.” She sounded as if she were being questioned on the witness stand.

“And you mentioned a friend suggested you come.”

“Yes.”

“What made your friend do that?” The drumbeat added a sinister quality to the questioning, a horror movie soundtrack warning us to pay attention.

Karen smiled ruefully. “Well, he knows my dating issues. Specifically, that I’m too picky.”

“Too picky,” Sol echoed. “After you start dating people—well, men; you indicated on your paperwork you’re straight—you decide they’re not good enough?”

“Sometimes. Oftentimes.”

“So, who’s the last person you left?”

Karen squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, goodness. Well, the last person was him.”

“Him!” Sol glanced over at us with surprise, a comedian riffing with an audience member for a laugh. “Your ex suggested you should come here?”

“Yes. Well, we’d been friends for many years. We decided to try dating, and it just didn’t work out.” She shrugged.

“Interesting choice of words.” Sol moved his hand in a straight line, like reading from a book. “?‘It just didn’t work out.’?” My stomach dropped. Was my “work” going to look like this, a bad comedy routine?

Sol paused, glancing right at me as if he could hear my thoughts. “So, I’m being a little facetious, Karen. And there’re a few reasons for that. The first is that I know—or I feel—that this is in fact the way to break through to you. Because the issue is that you’re disconnected from your feelings.”

Disconnected? The woman who was reading self-help books on the plane?

Sol turned back to her. “Is that right?”

After a second, she nodded.

“You’re being honest with me, right, Karen? You’re not just telling me what I want to hear?”

“Of course not.” She scoffed.

“Good.” Sol crossed his arms. “Now, some might ask: What happened to cut you off from your emotions? And that’s an important question. But what I’m most interested in right now is the behavior. You say you’re too picky, but I think you’re actually picking these people on purpose. Just not consciously.”

“Okay…” She sounded unsure.

“I bet they’re all reeeeeally niiice.” Sol drew out the words. “Good guys, huh?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“And they bore the living shit out of you!”

She groaned and dropped her head. Now we all laughed.

“I mean, let’s take the last guy. You dumped his ass, and he’s still trying to take care of you!” Sol tipped his head, like he was hearing something the rest of us couldn’t. “He might’ve even… oh shit. Karen, did he… did he pay for this retreat?”

Her head was still in her hands. She bobbed her head once. Dawne gasped.

Moon watched everything neutrally, continuing her soft drumming.

“That makes sense.” Sol nodded. “You take the care from the caretaker, and you don’t understand why it doesn’t feel good. I’ll bet you’re very confused. You have the best intentions, but…” His hand fluttered downwards. “You’re just not into them.”

When Karen raised her head, tears glittered in her eyes. “It feels awful.”

“I’ll bet it does.” Sol’s voice lowered. “Hurting the people who love you, over and over again. It feels like torture.”

“It does.” She swiped tears off her cheeks. My chest squeezed with sympathy.

“But that’s why you’re here,” Sol went on. “Regardless of who paid your way, you’re here to break the pattern.” He turned to face us. “Our patterns are the relational dynamics we get caught up in. They feel normal to us. But if we step back, we can recognize them. And with that knowledge, decide if we want to break them.” He turned back to Karen. “What’s your pattern?”

“Like you said. Dating men I should like, but I don’t.” She watched him, wary but interested.

“Good.” Sol gestured towards us. “It’s time to pick someone from the group to channel your ghost lover.”

“What?” She looked startled.

“Yes. Gender doesn’t matter. Just whoever you feel is the best fit.”

She gazed at us, evaluating. I wanted to hide, but I forced myself to return her eye contact. She was brave for going first, and if she wanted me to be a part of this, I would.

“Jonah,” she said.

Sol beckoned. “Come on up.”

What could he be feeling as he took his place next to Sol? After all, he was here for the same reason as me. To dig for information on Catherine. Not to get deep with a group of strangers.

Sol motioned. “So Jonah will represent your ghost lover : everything you yearn for in a partner. You chose Jonah because he has some of those qualities. Can you tell me what they are?”

“I’m not sure.” Karen’s voice sounded different, younger.

“First thing that comes to your mind.”

“Confident.” She glanced at Jonah, almost shyly.

“Confident, good.” Sol walked around them both. “What else?”

“I don’t know… He’s a good-looking guy, I guess?” Karen shrugged.

“Yes.” Sol nodded. “Confident, attractive… smart too.”

Jonah smiled uncertainly.

“And what are some of your worst qualities, Jonah?” Sol took a step back.

“You’re asking me?” he said.

“I am.” Sol grinned.

“Okay.” It was the first time I’d seen Jonah look unsure. “Well… I’ve been told I can be cut off from my emotions.”

This was awkward. I wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

Sol nudged Karen. “Sounds like someone else I know.” She chuckled. “What about anger?” He retrained on Jonah.

Jonah nodded. “I do get angry sometimes.”

“And what do you do when you get angry?”

Jonah paused. “I used to throw things. Punch things. People, sometimes. I don’t anymore.”

“You figured out how to hold all that anger in.” Sol crossed his arms. “How do you treat people romantically?”

“It depends.” Jonah shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sometimes I really like someone but it burns out quickly. A few times I’ve met someone that feels like the perfect fit, and I do everything I can to keep them. But… you know, it doesn’t last.”

“Good.” Sol leaned towards Karen. “Who is he reminding you of?”

“My father,” she said quietly.

“Okay.” Sol clapped. “Thanks for confirming. I’m assuming your father had more power in the household; is that right?”

She nodded.

“Often we pattern ourselves after the parent in charge.” Sol rested his hand on Jonah’s shoulder. “Tell me more about Dad.”

“Well, he was really charming,” Karen said. “And everyone in town loved him. People knew he could be a little hotheaded, but no one knew the extent of it.” She sniffed. “They didn’t know he beat my mother. Once he broke her arm. He’d beat on my two older brothers too. But I was the youngest, and if I hid he wouldn’t look too hard for me. So that made me feel guilty.”

Sol nodded. “So there was violence. Chaos. Inside this popular, handsome man.”

“Exactly. Not that I think you would do anything like that, Jonah.”

“Tell me this.” Sol stopped in front of her. “What did you learn from him? What traits does it take to have power in this world?”

“Well.” She gestured. “Like we said, I disconnect from my feelings. But I’m not sure what else. I don’t think I’m angry.”

“Oh, you’re fucking furious .” Sol raised his voice. “I can feel the rage vibrating within you. It’s very deep down. But why do you think you go after these passive men? It’s because you get a certain pleasure out of flattening them. Men who beg you to let them pay for a trip after you discard them. How powerful does that feel?”

Karen stared at Sol, dazed. Finally, she nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I never thought of it like that.”

“We do everything for a reason.” Sol turned back to us. “It may not make sense to other people, but we all follow an inner logic. It’s hard for women to show anger in our society, isn’t it? So they have to get creative—how to expel anger in sanctioned ways. How to punish men.”

“Come on,” Mikki murmured next to me. I was reminded, suddenly, of what Ace had said back in art therapy. Because men are physically stronger, y’all have come up with your own weapons. Mental ones. Was Sol peddling the same misogyny?

“Here’s the problem.” Sol stood behind Jonah, grasping his upper arms. “This is the lover you really want: strong, all-powerful. Someone to tell you what to do. But you know how toxic and smothering that would feel. If you pick men of the opposite temperament, you get to keep those traits for yourself. In a sense, you’ve become your ghost lover.”

“Oh god.” Karen bent over, covering her face. Moon’s drumbeat picked up, becoming louder, more insistent.

“No, Karen.” Sol pulled at her arm. “Tap into that power!”

She stood, her face red and wet.

“What do you want to say to your father?” Sol gestured at Jonah.

“He’s dead,” she choked out.

“Good! That means he’s here, in spirit, with us right now.”

Goose bumps pimpled my arms.

“I can’t speak ill of the dead.” Karen wrenched her head back and forth.

“He’s not dead!” Sol cried, his voice filling the tent. “Karen, I just said he’s here with us right now. What’s his name?”

“Oscar.”

“Oscar!” Sol pushed Jonah back and he stumbled, looking surprised. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”

“I—I don’t know,” Jonah said.

“First thing that comes to mind,” Sol said.

“Um… okay.” Jonah squared his shoulders. “My problem is that I’m sick of this, people clinging to me.”

“Why?”

“It makes me feel claustrophobic.”

“Are you from a big family, Oscar? Small?” Sol asked.

Jonah considered. “Big? But I think I was one of the younger siblings.”

Karen gasped, a hand over her mouth.

“You don’t like people clinging to you.” Sol nodded. “So why’d you get married?”

“I had to. It’s what people expected of me. And…” Jonah closed his eyes. “I’m not sure, but she might’ve been pregnant? My girlfriend. We had to get married.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Trapped.”

Karen’s hand remained over her mouth while fresh tears poured down her cheeks. What was happening? Because as they went back and forth, Jonah riffing from Oscar’s point of view, his stature changed: his shoulders slumping, his head moving forward. Even the set of his jaw looked different.

“Karen!” Sol shouted. Moon’s drumbeat increased in volume, her expression placid. “It’s time to cut the cord. This shadowy figure of Oscar is no longer your ghost lover. It’s time for an exorcism. Face him.”

Karen turned towards Jonah.

“Say what you need to say,” Sol directed.

“I love you, Dad.” Her voice quavered. “Despite everything, I do. But you have to go. You have to let me live in peace.”

“But I know what’s best,” Jonah growled.

“You don’t know what’s best. For me or anyone else. You’re a small, scared man who lashed out at us. That’s not how I want to be.”

Jonah dropped to his knees. “Don’t send me away.”

“You need to move on.” She kneeled in front of him, grasping his hands. “It’s time, Dad. I’m going to be okay. Please. It’s time for me to live my own life.”

The drumbeat thudded, so loud and fast we could barely hear their words.

Sol stood behind Jonah, placing a hand on the top of his head.

“Oscar,” he hollered. “We ask that you move into the next phase of your incarnation. Be gone!”

The drum stopped. Sol pushed Jonah’s head down into a prone position, his forehead pressed to the wooden floor.

Sol backed off, and slowly, Jonah sat up. He looked around, confused, as if he didn’t know where he was. Sol touched him on the back and pointed at his cushion. His breath was audible as he dropped beside me. I stared at him— What the actual fuck?

“Karen.” Sol placed one hand on her shoulder. “He’s gone.”

She wiped more tears away and took a deep breath. “I know. I can feel it.”

Ding. Moon was holding up a leather string that attached two metal cymbals. The clear, sharp note from their being struck together reverberated.

“Let’s take a break.” Sol pointed at the doors. “Karen and Jonah, stick around.”

I got unsteadily to my feet. My left foot tingled; it had fallen asleep, but I hadn’t even noticed. Dawne, Ramit, Mikki, and I exited the tent into the blinding sun. Something tugged at me—this felt familiar, what I’d just witnessed. But from where?

We walked silently towards the veranda. I waited for someone to speak. But all four of us were, for once, at a loss for words.