Your hand is palm-down on the table. My hand. My hand is palm-down on the table. On my forearm, near the elbow, a maggot is sticking out of my skin. I grasp it gently with my other hand and pull it out.
It doesn’t resist. It doesn’t hang on, that is. If I release the pressure, it starts sliding back in, though.
Pulling a maggot out of my arm is a good feeling. The idea that there is a maggot in your arm might be disturbing, but here I am pulling one out of my arm, which is a good thing. Completely positive.
The more I pull out, the bigger the maggot turns out to be. It’s not so much that it is growing, really; more like it was a lot bigger all along than I thought it was.
It’s a maggot as big as a ferret. Sort of pale blonde-white. Like two kilos of sentient fat. A guy from work who turns out to know a lot about maggots helps me pull it out. The more we pull out, the better I feel about it.
Nothing like getting rid of a big maggot.
It’s good thing I don’t eat anything at breakfast.
This was just about the worst image you could have conjured up early in the morning.
brrrrrrr
It was actually a great dream. I jumped out of bed feeling great and had coffee, sour-cherry yogurt, an apple with peanut butter on it and half a grapefruit for breakfast. All the while with the dream still vivid in my mind.
Writhing and moist, so to speak.
OK, you’re officially weirder than me ;)
That does sound pretty awesome. So now what are you going to do with all this ferret-sized-maggot-freedom? Something good, I’m sure.
I love that it was ferret sized, and not, say, chihuahua or trout or baguette sized.
Just for you:
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/08/25/health/25fda.html?ex=1282622400&en=4349e3d214fbfbe0&ei=5090&partner=rssuserland&emc=rss
(and be glad it’s not a link to the picture of the bot fly)
how utterly adorable.
congratulations, ma’am–it’s a maggot!
men and their grotesque birthing dreams. xox
You weren’t reading that David Sedaris piece about African worms, on vacation, maybe?
i told you so. now the rest of it will come.