Chrysalis was the name she bequeathed upon herself, a talented and troubled woman haunted by spirits. She feared their presence and hoped her entourage might provide some security. They accompanied her in limousines, opening doors, carrying bags, and living in her estate. They sat at her long table and dined with her as she ate, which was infrequently, meals requested on a whim. She was cautioned by doctors about her dietary habits and so she compensated by ingesting pills that gave her strength to go on. As hard as she tried she could not resist nor appease the apparitions that materialized in shadows, lingering in the corners of her mind like vestiges from a dream, as silent as her voiceless scream. Mouth parted, she gazed – stupefied by these visitors. Arriving unannounced at her parties, they would appear, mingling among the guests she barely recognized. Overtaken by this influx of spiritual and secular beings, she learned to accept her open mind and overcome her fears. She danced with whomever was bold enough to ask. At the theaters and stadiums she became possessed of kinetic energy. An aura of power clearing the way through the crowd of adoring fans who clung like trailing particles of a comet, attached and moving her like the legs of a caterpillar. Enveloped in a cloudy protective haze, she arrived transformed on stage, taking flight – a butterfly, beautifully unaware of her time on earth.