I had a tapeworm.

I've never had a tapeworm, nor have I ever known someone who had a tapeworm, so I don't know the symptoms, and I don't know how you get rid of them. But in this dream, I had a tapeworm, and the only way I could get rid of it was to puke it up.

So I stood over the toilet, feeling my gorge rising, and I started to vomit. Immediately, the tapeworm starts to come out. But it isn't a small worm--it's damned colossal. It completely fills my esophagus, bulges my throat out enough to force my windpipe closed. It almost distends my jaw as it pushes out my mouth. It's colossal. No mere worm, this is an eel--a lamprey--and surely it's the King Dog Daddy of all the Slimy Gut-Dwelling Eels, because it just keeps coming and coming. Its head plunks down into the toilet, but it keeps coming. Its oily, greenish-black hide, flecked with bits of vomit and spatters of my own blood, keeps surging out of me. I'm terrified, horrified, unable to breathe, crying, making little choking sounds that would be roof-shaking screams if I could only breathe around this monster eel.

It seems to take forever, but surely only 30 seconds to a minute have passed by the time the thing's tail (or head--god help me, it's got a mouth on both ends) slides out of my throat. Its front end is still sunk in the toilet, but the rest of it is humped up over the rim and coiled wetly on the bathroom floor. The thing is eight feet long, and this little voice in the back of my mind is gibbering surely you've lost weight now, boyo, who needs diets and exercise, just barf up a sea monster every now and then.

I lean out of the bathroom, drained physically and emotionally, surely feeling like a few years drugged up in the psych ward would feel just peachy right now, and I call for some assistance. My mother comes over, glances unconcernedly into the bathroom, and calls for my dad. "Say, how should J-P dispose of that?" she asks. (And a good question, too--No way in hell our plumbing can handle that, har har har). My dad looks in, shrugs, and says, "Put it in a plastic garbage bag and throw it in the dumpster." They both move on, leaving me wondering how much of my sanity will be left after shoving eight feet of dead eel into a trash bag...