Or: the metaphysics of childhood. (Paraphrased) actual conversation:
Seven-year-old: Daddy, how could Sandman [a Spider-Man adversary] survive since he's just made out of sand? I mean, wouldn't he need internal organs (sic)?
Me: Yes he would, that's why he's just make-believe. That's why ghosts aren't real either [seven-year-old clings fervently to a belief in the supernatural].
Seven-year-old: But ghosts are invisible.
Me: So, they would still need internal organs, wouldn't they?
Seven-year-old: No, Daddy, ghosts are made out of the afterlife (sic).
It never ceases to amaze me that matter has evolved to the point of deeming its own role in consciousness to be dispensable in this way. Sort of like ascending a tower and kicking the ladder away--the view is excellent, until one gets hungry or restless...