They keep telling me that they have awakened from the visions that dance on the eyelids of man, that they have stirred from the dream and rise now to daylight. But, as they say this, their teeth are hunting their own tongues, as the starving predator stalks its prey, as the tide-pulled hands of the ocean continually try to reach out and strangle everything that walks the land. Maybe they have awakened from sleep, but then why do they still stay in my dream? If they are awake, why don't they go play in the world of the conscious, instead of plaguing me, from inside my own visions, with the nonsense that can only be said by a character in a dream?

Oh, it's the worms. It's just the worms eating my eyes again; so many that they exude a sound like the chatter of a crowded market. I see them squirming again, now, and I remember where I am.

You're not out of the dream. Neither am I. This is not a dream we will wake up from any time soon.

Hopefully you can ignore the dripping on your forehead while you still sleep. Hopefully the wriggling of the insects will not disturb your rest. If you begin to feel them, I'm afraid you may become conscious enough to know where you are.

. . . you may be terrified when you realize where you've been sleeping all this time.