Cold sweat she hadn't expected. Neither the nightmares. This was all pasted her, wasn't it? Hadn't she made her peace and moved on? Why, then, the dreams and nightmares? Why the endless chasing through dark passages, never to escape fevered dreams? Awake now, she looked around. Half expecting someone to be looking at her from the foot of the bed. Alone, but was she as safe as she had assumed. Are ghosts real?