Though we’ve just crossed the threshold into fall, you may already be thinking of Halloween, that time of year when we get to frighten ourselves with fantasies instead of being terrorized by the all-too-real world. It is also the moment when we can at least pretend to believe, for better or worse, that the dead do not stay dead.

If your thoughts have been wandering in that direction — as well they might when the days grow shorter and nights longer — you should know that they’re throwing quite a séance at the McGinn/Cazale Theater. That’s where you can wait for the arrival of the dangerously departed narco-terrorist Pablo Escobar, the title character of Alexis Scheer’s “Our Dear Dead Drug Lord,” in a cozy Miami treehouse.

The self-styled mediums in this highly entertaining, equally sobering little play — a co-production of the WP and Second Stage theaters — come naturally by their affinity for the dark side. They’re all teenagers — or, to be specific, teenage girls, a thin-skinned, hormonally saturated species that tends to exist at the tip s of its nerve ends.

These young apprentices in sorcery are called — and I am using only the names they have been endowe d with by their Ouija board — Pipe (Carmen Berkeley), Zoom (Alyssa May Gold), Kit (Rebecca Jimenez) and Squeeze (Malika Samuel). They hail from that distant year of 2008, when Barack Obama was just about to be elected the nation’s first black president, a time some of you may recall with a nostalgic sigh.