We slept in Luna’s farmshed last night—a little wood and metal platform by the rice fields. Luna was very nervous about the ghosts. She slept on the farm all the time as a girl with no problem. But as she has grown older and more urbanized, the empty, nighttime spaces are increasingly a home for her accumulated anxieties, conflicts and other hauntings. A shamaness once told her she has to spend the night on her farm alone to figure out what the ghosts want so that she can resolve some of her physical illnesses. She hasn’t had the nerve yet.
I was hoping to meet one of the ghosts, but no luck. That could just be my problem. Luna insists that when one of the dogs dashed off to chase something, she heard a squealing pig. She stared into the night for several minutes looking for the pig, and even smelled her dogs’ mouths for blood. I told her that I had not heard a pig. “Maybe a ghost,” she said nonchalantly.
Luna did dream a lottery number—her first in a several months. I bought the ticket (it never works if she buys it herself). I won about $36.