I looked at my legs, amazed that so many moles would have developed overnight. I touched a few, gently, rubbing my fingers across the rough surface of first one and then another.
I blinked and in the span of time that my eyes closed and opened again, the moles had multiplied until they covered nearly all the skin from my upper thighs to my knees. They overlapped and some were tall — raised to higher than two Oreo cookies stacked atop one another, and similar in appearance: dark under and above with a white middle. I wondered if they were pustules, concerned that touching with too much pressure would make their innards burst forth in foul-smelling putrescence. Thoughts of ringing a doctor never entered my mind as I touched the larger lesions carefully.
I jolted in alarm and blinked again: my legs looked clear in the near twilight of the room. To get a better look, I stood and walked carefully to the bathroom mirror. I lifted my sleeping gown and saw not one mole. A dream, perhaps …
And then I woke up.
For real.
Dreams. So they go…
Ya know? Sigh …