Inside a dream from long ago, my skin was dry and cracked into chunks that kept falling to the floor like breadcrumbs. I rushed into the shower, and those furrows of skin were filled with falling drops of water, temporarily stopping the cracking, but this resulted in my needing to stand underneath the showerhead the whole time I was being rinsed. Many strangers crowded the bathroom, ogling me through the glass and discussing my illness. This dream was so odd, the bathroom was as big as a living room and I was standing right in the middle of it. I tried to slightly avoid the group, but as soon as my body veered away from the water that was drenching me, my skin would start peeling off again, and I struggled to shrink myself so that every inch of my skin could be drenched. Just like that, the doctor's prescription for me: always stand under the showerhead.

 

 

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