To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;

awake, then die
in the arms of a modified lover
sleep, then dream
in the absence of a tangible lover
envision, then sing
in the thralls of a hungry lover

We are born to die.

For a time I hovered in that peaceful dreamland where nothing at all works properly but everything is okay.

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and, by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub.

For some must watch, while some must sleep;So runs the world away.