November 19, 2025 #adamandeve

I locked Coco out of the bedroom.
I’ll admit it.
I needed sleep and I thought, Tonight is the night I reclaim my REM cycles.
I didn’t realize Tonight is the night my entire nervous system gets judged.
But of course — of course — I woke up at 3:07AM, staring at the ceiling like a confused Gen X ghost. And before I could even sit up, the whole gang drifted in like they’d been waiting in my closet for their cue.
Catalina was first, whispering dramatically
Where do you feel this?
and poking me in the stomach.
Here? Intuition check? Holy Spirit hotline?
Joe leaned over me, wiggling his eyebrows like a dad-joke gymnast
Or maybe it’s heart stuff. Chest stuff. Big emotional downloads, you know?
Donna swatted him
Joseph, get your face out of her aura.
And then Sally arrived… floating, regal, judging the entire room with her usual “Dancing with the Stars” energy.
Good heavens, she sighed, you wake the woman up like she’s a medical mannequin. Give her space. She’s processing.
Meanwhile I’m still half-asleep, blinking at four dead people analyzing my organs like a celestial focus group.
Cat flopped on the edge of my bed, brushing her dark hair out of her face.
I mean, she continued thoughtfully, if your muscles are tight, that’s unresolved emotions. Like when I was alive and my ex texted me ‘k’ instead of ‘okay.’ Instant shoulder tension.
She rubbed her own ghostly shoulders for emphasis.
Textual trauma.
Joe raised his hand like he was in homeroom
So what about headaches? ’Cause I had a few of those before I kicked the bucket.
Sally offered him a dry look that could peel wallpaper
Head sensations, Joseph, come from overthinking. Frustration. Anger. Also poor hydration but that ship has sailed for you, darling.
Donna snorted.
Cat whispered get roasted under her breath.
Then Donna cupped her cheeks tenderly
Shame lives here, she said, tapping under her eyes.
Isn’t that sad? Our poor little faces trying to hide like Adam and Eve behind a ficus tree.
Cat nodded solemnly
Shame’s a face demon.
I groaned into my pillow
Oh my God…
Joe added
Chest = feelings. Stomach = intuition. Head = chaos. Face = Adam and Eve guilt.
Got it, I muttered.
They all looked pleased with themselves, like I’d passed a test I never signed up for.
But then—Sally softened.
She floated a little closer, arms gently crossed, voice warm but firm.
Darling, she said, your body gives signals. It doesn’t label. It whispers. And the Holy Spirit… helps you interpret what you can’t yet name.
The room quieted. Cat finally stopped poking my abdominal chakra.
Sally tilted her head at me, studying me with that sharp, loving, deeply-annoying wisdom of hers.
I’ve watched you in session, she said.
I’ve seen how you help souls find the words their bodies couldn’t. You’re doing very good work.
A pause.
A small smile.
A lifted brow.
Keep going.
And right when my eyes actually filled with tears, the bedroom door rattled--
Coco, furious at being locked out, letting out a full-throated MRAAAAW.
Sally sighed
Well. That’s your stomach sensation sorted. Fear.