Morning Mutilation
Level of Lucidity: N/A Level of Cohesiveness:
Rating:
Lucid Intent? No
This dream has been viewed 67 times.
Yet another that began as any ordinary day would for me. I did not know I was dreaming.
It was morning; overcast, cold, and quiet. I awoke on the side of the bed my companion usually occupies. I was facing the door, laying on my left side, the black and red comforter pulled over my shoulders. My massive tom slumbered between us, just behind my knees.
As I came into percieved consciousness I rolled so that I lay on my back. I slid my legs further down the bed, positioning them on either side of the male cat. I noticed my little female where she rested at the bottom righthand corner of the bed. While the tom stretched in respose to my movements she remained motionless. I sympathized with her exhaustion, for there was naught but her breathing to indicate she was even alive. Not a twitch of the ear nor a blink of the eye to show she'd been disturbed. It was quite uncharacteristic of her. I thought about crawling over to make sure she was alright.
My companion's arm stretched across my lower abdomen and squeezed. I smiled. I turned to look at him and discovered he was also awake. His eyes were heavy, half-closed, but his expression was as happy as I knew mine was. He was laying on his front with his right leg bent to ensure my kitty had enough space in the corner she'd claimed.
For several moments I simply rested, grateful for the close comfort of my sgnificant other and the animals. I reached the conclusion that this would be a wonderful day for several reasons - both the cats had stayed throughout the night, I hadn't overslept, the house was quiet, I wasn't in any pain, and I didn't have to get up for work.
I sighed and stretched my arms over my head as best I could. My fists knocked into the wall behind the pillows.
I sat up. The comforter fell to my waist. My little female lifted her head and extended a paw in my direction. I supported myself with my right arm, palm to the bed, elbow locked.
It was at this point I experienced a strange sensation in my mouth, on the right side. A pang shot through me and sped my heart up. I suspected the top ball on my tongue ring had come loose and was rolling around. Choking on it it my sleep is a fear I hold, so my reaction to the idea that I'd just avoided the scenario was both frightening and relieving. I pressed my tongue hard to the bottom of my mouth and stuck a finger between my teeth to catch it, but I felt nothing more than my own flesh, and when I ran the fingertip over the spot the ring should've been, I found it whole.
My companion had rolled onto his back to stare at me. I took a calming breath, intending to tell him what a scare I'd just had, when the entirety of my left cheek began to itch. I dragged my nails across it to alleviate the sensation. Something black and flaky accumulated beneath them. The skin felt rough. Instead of fading, the itching worsened.
Now I was absolutely bewildered. I gazed questioningly at my companion.
He seemed confused for a moment. Then, as he focused on my face, his expression changed. He sat up, very quickly, and reached out. He touched my cheek.
"Oh, my God, sweetie. What the hell happened?!" He said. He squinted at me, frowning, lips parted. He ran his finger along my face.
I shoved myself off the bed and ran for the bathroom. I knew it was rude to just leave without saying something in return, without telling him what I'd was doing, but with each passing moment I became increasingly anxious.
I flipped on the lights above the mirror to study myself. When I saw my reflection I froze.
My right cheek had been lain open from nose to ear. The wound was deepest across the fleshier part. It gaped like a second mouth. But even more of a mystery than how it had occurred was the fact that it was sealed with dried blood, so dark it was almost black. It filled most of the gash, yet even then I saw the raw red meat of my face peeking through. It itched like crazy.
I realized I was shaking and close to tears as I snatched a few squares of toilet paper and wet them. I dabbed at it in an attempt to remove the dried blood. My efforts yeilded no change in its appearance. As the first tear tricked down the uninjured side of my face, a possible explanation entered my mind. The tom cat was obese, his claws were sharp, and he wasn't always careful about jumping onto the bed with a person close to the edge. Perhaps he'd tried to climb up near my face and accidentally - though severely - scratched me. Immediately after I decided it just couldn't be. I doubted his claws could cause the kind of damage there was, and if it'd happened in the night the wound would still be fresh, and I'd have found blood in the bed as well as on myself. At the same time I knew it hadn't been there the previous day.
The odd sensation that something was around my tongue returned. Since I was already in the bathroom, I leaned over the counter to improve my vision, and opened my mouth. There was a large chunk missing from the tongue, on the right side. It was a peculiar looking wound. No blood, but with a purplish discoloration, and it was ragged at the ends as though I'd bitten it with my molars. I wondered if I'd done it in my sleep.
My contemplation ceased as an itchyness started in the bite, or what I assumed was a bite, just out of sight. I rotated the muscle to get a better look. Something crawled into view. It wiggled onto the top of my tongue. The thing was approximately the size of a cashew, but thinner, with a white and cream colored segmented body. It was a maggot. A very BIG maggot.
I screamed and tried to spit it out. It took a few attempts. I flew into a panic, which led me to involuntarily clench my jaws shut. I didn't want to chew on the thing. I gripped the sink forcefully and willed my teeth apart. The bug fell along with a stream of clear saliva.
I was crying hysterically now. I feared the reddening of my face would interfere with my inspection, in case there were other discolored spots I had yet to see.
I tried to steady myself and proceeded to checked the bite more thoroughly. Perhaps it was because a maggot had just crawled from it, or perhaps it was the strange purple coloring of it, but seeing it again, I thought it looked as though it were decaying. It didn't have a taste or an abnormal texture. I couldn't find any more bugs. I also couldn't shake the horrifying suspicion that somehow, before its removal, the thing had laid eggs in the wound.
My companion was at the door. I saw him in the mirror, standing just inside the hallway.
"B-aby, Baby... pl-" I was sobbing so hard I could barely speak. I was trying to say, 'please do something'.
I stopped trying to communicate and launched myself over the counter again. I checked the gash in my cheek for bugs as best I could through the blood and found nothing.
I opened my mouth and checked my teeth, lips, the insides of my cheeks, as much of my tongue as I could see, and found nothing. I was about to tell my companion to call 911 when I felt something slide over the surface of my right eye, just below the lower lid. I gasped and moaned and cried helplessly. I didn't want to look, but I had to.
I peeled the lid down and stared. It was another bug, though much smaller, about the size of my pinky nail, completely clear, and shaped like the maggot but without discernible segments. It was wiggling upwards toward my pupil. I grabbed the toilet paper I'd used earlier and wiped it along my eye. The disgusting organism stuck to it. I threw it in the trash.
I woke up as I was checking my eyes over for more bugs.
