Closed.

How every morning I fight myself out of that surge of sleep. That urge to keep dreaming with my eyes closed. That feeling of not having to wake up to feel, see, sense the real. The reality beyond reality that aspires me, makes me happy, jovial; the being which I miss the most when I start dreaming with my eyes open. This simple fact; the veil that keeps me away from the facade of reality, its brutality, keeps me safe. A safe haven I say, to the being I always wish to keep alive, living, laughing, walking talking in her own peculiar way. Her jovial self. I wish to balk away the factors that keep her at dismay. Though for few seconds, few minutes I wish to keep her alive. To let her survive, in her own solace, her own warmth, her peace, the tranquility that she dreams of every single moment, with her eyes opened, gifted only when her eyes are closed.