Imagine standing at the edge of a vast, shifting sea of sand. The air is thick with salt, the wind tugs at your jacket, and then—rising like a mirage out of the misty tideflats—you see it: a medieval island crowned with a dramatic abbey that seems almost too magical to be real.

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.