Rotten

I dream that my body is rotten, centered on my solar plexus. I am still alive, moving day to day, but my core is drying out, crumbling away. Ribs separate, held together by brittle sinews, that finally crack and fall away with the slightest disturbance.

In the cavity of dying flesh, a beautiful creature, of definite feminine character like a nymph or fairy, is eating the disintegrating flesh (it's not putrid, it's dry but dense, like jerky), like a grub at the root of a tree.