Sleep Befallen Ghost

And the ghost lay in the hollow, a level of consciousness below its already eternal death washed over it, for even a ghost becomes overcome with weariness of reliving moment of painful death for all of ever. And in weariness, giving into exhaustion, even a ghost is vulnerable to sweet sleep's bitter spell, becoming drunk on the dreams that only occur out of life's stabbing pain of reality. Only when the brain is relieved of its burdening task of analyzing the life which doesn't often work out to make sense, is it allowed to drift into the pleasantries of ignorance. Even a ghost doesn't know all. Even a ghost, through death, faces life.