I was lying in my bed in the cool darkness of a late afternoon. The shades were closed - I never have them open anymore. What the fuck is there to see outside? Obese and ancient Mexicans in ratty clothes? Homeless screaming at the sky? Dead shrubs? Rotted trees? A lifeless city?
My bed is set on the floor - no frame, just box spring and mattress. Grey colored, cotton sheets. Grey comforter.
I gaze down to my pale legs in the half light and - in part horror and part morbid curiosity - I noticed small, pimple-like bumps on the lower part of my legs. About ten or twelve of them. I glide my hand smoothly over the skin, reading the bumps like Braille, feeling the soft, sparse hairs. In a fit of paranoia, I pop one of the offending blemishes with thumb and forefinger, curiously mortified that it wasn't puss or blood that issued forth - but, the tiny larvae of some insect - like the blow fly.
The white, pulpy worm wiggled out of its cocoon in my flesh and plopped onto the dusty tiled floor. I sat for some time, squeezing these things out of my leg. One after another - a couple I noticed dragged long, pink, fleshy tube strips of my muscle with them clamped firmly in hind mandibles - as they humped and wriggled across the tile, disappearing under chairs and into dark shadows. I sat a moment and watched these maggots move away with a bit of sadness - sadness over my obviously deteriorating body. There was no pain. No blood. Simply the bewildered curiosity and annoyance of why and how they were there in the first place.
I curled up into a fetal position under my blankets in a vain attempt to return to sleep. I felt a nick (Or a bite) just under the right side crown of the head of my penis. I always sleep in the nude - wouldn't have it any other way.
Then I felt a moistness in my pubic hairs and when I glanced under my grey blanket, I noticed a rather deep and large pool of blood. The blood was odd - it was thick and sludge-like. With freaky paranoia, I leap out of bed to the bathroom, leaving splats of dark, crimson blood droplets on the tile. Examining where I felt the sharp and piercing pain, there was indeed a tiny gash like incision. Again, no pain - only deranged, uncollated bewilderment.
I cleaned the blood off the best I could, urinated, and went back to my bed to lay down. My feelings being wracked in deep sadness and depression that I was overcome by these maladies and powerless to stop it.
--- A dream that I had the previous evening.