This is real.
There really is another me who is simultaneously older and younger who has wishes, hopes, and desires for the present me.
I mistook him for my son because he’s younger. I mistook him for my father because he’s older, but it really is me.
I’m not afraid because I live in the future, and anything that seems like madness pushes us there faster.
You have one, too. Your ghost. Waiting inside you to be unbounded.