The Dream

In the dream it wasn't the rats leaping at his face that disturbed him. It wasn't that they scurried over his clenched tight eyes with their tiny claws, desperate to enter his gaping, screaming mouth. It wasn't that as much as he tried to rip them from his head one rat would always manage to squeeze its way through the others and into his mouth. What disturbed him the most about the dream, was the way the rat's whiskers itched the back of his throat.