It is not incidental to me that I see farther with my eyes closed than with them open.
I suspect this is a general condition, an unremarked aspect of awareness we all share, but I don't know that for sure. Only that it happens to me.
The window shade that falls and dampens the light from the optic nerve allows something to happen where the interior view replaces the exterior one for a moment, then the two meld into a whole, and this vista is unconstrained by the eye lid. It is clear in all directions.
The closed eye view has provided a mindscape of infinity for eternity, so it is easy for me to sit in a park or on a hill side or even a beautiful building with my eyes closed and enjoy the flora and fauna of this infinite world. It is active and beautiful.
Seeing with one's eyes closed is not for everyone I imagine. I was blind for a while with cataracts, and that was confining and abnormal, like the disease it was. I am grateful for the surgeon who gave me inter-ocular lenses and restored clarity to my natural eyes.
This chamber that is revealed with the eyelids shut is at first dark. Then after a moment, after the thoughts calm down, and the rush of words stop their internal dialogue and the colloquy is closed, there is a view that is nearly dreamlike.
It's not imagination, and it's not fantasy. It is as real as anything, but it takes a deep stillness to percieve, and I have not experienced it socially or in company with friends or even loved ones.
There is a narrow place when I am with an intimate friend, that the overview survives the jolts from the outside, just as the outside subsides, and I am aware of the friend and their intimacy. The space, so far, has not been share-able beyond that. It is a space of solitude and serenity, far from sleep but deeply relaxed.
There is a permanence to it, a peace, and a continuity that hints at the divine. It is almost like heaven.