After a long read, he had lain the open book on his chest and dozed off into its world.  In no time, he was in the smallest of apartments — in hiding, yet feeling completely exposed.  And a little shy.  He sensed a female eye might be observing him.  But, unlike others who tracked his every move, she was focused in on his stillness.  And, so, still he stayed.  He wanted her to know he couldn’t be made to divulge anything, not even on his sleeping face.  He dared her to look closer in.  He imagined her eye lock in on his face.  Had he ever felt more alive?  He didn’t give in: he refused to breathe.  Long enough to feel he might soon pass out.  In the dream or in actuality?  To know, he’d have to awaken, and her eye on him would be lost.  He stayed still, and would have continued to had the book not then fallen off his chest and possibly spared him from death.