Don't know when it started, but I was aware of a duality in ghost quality. I began to know a Maori who had drowned doing experiments with extending underwater swim time. He had made headgear of bent twigs and some basket material, maybe made of part of flax. But something went wrong down there. He was an inventor, adventurer, explorer, sort of a maverick genius.
I began to experience the awful pain of when water gets up into nasal passages, a huge twang of regret of the things uncommunicated to others that would be lost, unfinished business angst, and then gradual blissing out. I got involved with over the crown contact. Somehow this guy's ghost mixed with Edgar Lee, if Edgar is different.