Last night I dreamed of a party. I was uncomfortable. There were people in attendance who I did not wish to see. I was surprised by their appearance and felt betrayed by my own mind, as it really cheated itself out of refuge.

In the dream, at the party, I ate a piece of cake. It was something like chocolate and cream cheese, but it was old and  sour and too rich and maybe a little moldy, and I spit it out of my mouth, scraped it off my tongue, gagging. The thick cream and cake had generated mucous in the back of my throat, so I tried hacking it up.

I woke up out of the dream and found myself still hacking, trying to get a glob of mucous out of my mouth. Not believing that this nearly unbroken link between dream and life was possible, I tried going back to sleep, still making guttural sounds. I couldn't go back to sleep, of course. I spit into a glass jar near the bed, then I drifted off.