I woke up in a panic a couple of morning ago, due to the following rather grim dream:

Yuki and I were diving off Zanzibar. We were swimming between reefs along the sandy bottom, possibly stunned by the weird beauty of garden eels snaking out of the sand, but I digress. I turned on one side to look back at Yuki, and my right arm sank into the sea bed. I drifted along for a few metres with my arm under the surface. When I lifted it out, there was a long, deep gash down the centre of my forearm. The skin was white along the edges of the cut, like a cut goes in the bath. I looked closer to see that there were a series of pink lips deep within the wound. Lips with small tendrils waving between them. I signalled to our dive master. She looked at the wound, and looked concerned. Some kind of barnacles had got into my arm. She motioned me to squeeze the wound. I pinched either side of one of the sets of lips, and out popped what looked like a mussel you might eat at the pub. It popped out with some force, like an edamame pea from its pod. I continued down my arm until all the invaders had been popped out. The wound was still open but didn’t hurt any more.

At this point I woke up with a “fizzy” arm. I think I had been lying on it…