If you ever find yourself in the mountains of Guerrero during a village festival, don’t be alarmed if you see a man in a jaguar mask leaping at another dressed as a farmer swinging a whip. You haven’t stumbled into a surreal jungle nightmare — you’ve entered the world of the Tlacololeros.

As the sun sets on November 2nd in the quiet borough of San Andrés Mixquic, the local cemetery begins to glow. Hundreds of candles flicker to life. Marigold petals form glowing pathways. The air is thick with the scent of copal incense and tamales. But this is no ordinary cemetery visit — this is a sleepover with the dead.