Her skin peeled away in chunks and the meaty gobs of flesh crawled away from her like giant worms, oozing blood from pinhead pores. They squealed in agony as they became saturated in acidic bile when she swallowed them whole, choking on the lumps when they tickled her gag reflex. Her teeth squirmed with a slick, bloody plaque. She ripped out her hair in massive hanks, trying to find the tab of her scalp so that she could pull it back like the top of a tin can. A hoarse scream built in her throat, barely made it an octave higher than her normal voice, for suddenly the wormy skin was pulling itself back up her esophagus. The scream cracked the floor into tiny shards that then cut her knees and shredded her toes. The warm blood seeped through the cracks like a rising sea, pooling around her ankles, then flowing up her lap. She tried to get up but her shredded toes wouldn’t keep her standing. The blood was at her ribs, her collarbone, her jaw. She tried to swim but it was thicker than water yet somehow less dense, like oil, harder to stay floating. The same hoarse scream burned her throat as she slipped under, burned as she choked on blood.
Six-thirty. Snooze button. Out of bed before conscious registry has occurred. On feet. In shower. Can’t doze off under steady stream of hot water as usual. Why? Was dream so effective? Maybe. Dreams seem more vivid than real life. Bland colors of beige, white, gray, muted yellow. A shower stall, showerhead, water, a towel. A sky with no color. Night, blood, and flesh. Six-forty-five. Dressed. Stomach feels smaller when grabbing at it through loose t-shirt. Forgot to eat last night. Forget food by the time reach door this morning. Eat later when Pringles are available. Skin feels tight on face. At least not going anywhere.
The walk to school was cold, but not cold enough to wake her.