Amygdala is a short psychological thriller about grief, reincarnation, and the cyclical nature of unlearned lessons.

After losing his wife and daughter in a car accident he believes he caused, David—a man haunted by guilt—arranges his own death. But rather than simply disappear, he spends his final two weeks hiding letters to guide his future self in the next life. He leaves instructions at three meaningful locations: the beach where they laughed, the playground where his daughter swung, and a bench in the forest. His hope: when he's reincarnated and finds these letters, he'll finally learn the lessons this life taught him too late—patience, presence, how to grieve.

But when David goes to hide his final letter beneath a moss-covered rock, he discovers an old envelope already buried there. His hands tremble as he opens it. We never see what it says, only his face as he reads—confusion becoming recognition, fear becoming wonder. In that moment of impossible understanding, a gunshot cracks through the forest.

He falls. Both envelopes lie together in the dirt.

Amygdala is a film that refuses to answer its central question: Did David find proof that consciousness survives death? Or was it all coincidence, delusion, and the cruel timing of revelation? The ambiguity is the point. The film asks what we would say to ourselves across the gap of forgetting, and whether breaking a cycle is even possible when we're doomed to repeat it.

Visually restrained and thematically rich, Amygdala is designed for the festival circuit—specifically targeting Sundance and other Oscar-qualifying festivals.