this morning #576.

this morning, fresh patches of blood-crusted scratches occupied a good portion of his lower back, a sign that something strange must’ve gone down while he was in the deepest regions of REM sleep. all the blood caked under his nails helped him discern that, at some point, the insects of his nightmares had leapt out into the physical realm & he was forced to fight back. after the last time it happened, it would’ve made sense to make it a priority to cut his fingernails but he’d didn’t. he’d convinced himself that the event was an aberration. apparently not. instead of it becoming a funny story he could tell his friends, it had become something that would probably require medical attention.