WE KNOW THIS The dead are sleepless, we know this, they need no rest. With no sleep comes no dreams, and they live in reality. Unlike us their reasoning is perfect, they accept no delusions. Like the ants their nation is rational, unerring. They cannot be hurt: no fear. Numerous as they are, the way they live ensures that their needs do not empty their surroundings or crowd each other out. Wakeful, reasonable, faultless, desiring nothing and never afraid, how could we ever understand them even enough to be enemies? Surely they must be puzzled by us, too, since the only thing they have forgotten is the need to sleep. They must wonder a little, if they ever notice it, how still we are hours at a stretch, eyes closed; never guessing at the impossible things we live through every night.