Ants in my pants and senseless shaving (warning, not a nice one)

I’m in the corner of a room and to get to the exit I need to walk through the moving floor.

The floor isn’t actually moving, but due to the billions of ants cover it, it just appears to be.

To avoid stepping on any ants, I keep my shoes on the floor surface and slide across the ground as I walk; the floor of ants are up to about an inch over my ankle.

I finally get to the end of the room and walk out the room. I jog over to a clear area and brush the ants off my trousers; I can feel something in my ass.

I start farting out ants which then start crawling out my ass unassisted and down my leg and making a pile on the floor; the ants are about an inch long.

Terrified, I just stand their feeling helpless and sick as one by one they start crawling out. I feel horrified when I look down and see the size of the pile on the floor which is about he size of a football.

Praying that each one is the last one, they slow down but are still coming out; I pull my trousers down and I can see my thighs moving.

I feel crawling under the skin on my thighs and I start making desperate crying sounds as I run my palms down firmly and slowly my legs as if I’m squeezing the last bit of toothpaste out of a tube.

I run to a toilet and the whole room is made of wood and it is dripping and very damp. There is a man dressed like a farmer in a dark corner standing near the cubicles. I go into one and I can see him looking at me through the planks of wood surrounding the toilet stacked up making the see through walls.

I wake up (actually) and have four very big farts.

Asleep again, I am looking at a clock and feel shocked when I realise I haven’t packed yet and my parents are waiting for our taxi. I’m not at home but an airport which has our kitchen in it.

My clothes are still drying and I don’t want to pack wet clothes. My Auntie Trish is talking with my mum and they’re looking at a tiny woolen hat which says ‘Granddad Joe’ on it; referring to my friend Joe.

I’m now not really part of the dream but watching it from an outsider. I’m watching a woman trying to hold back her pain as she shaves her face.

Shaking with cuts all over her face, she tears up as she puts more shaving cream on and grits her teeth as she starts shaving again. She doesn’t say anything, but I know that she’s doing it so that people will think her boyfriend beats her so she can get on the flight for free.

Back in the dream, I’m in my kitchen frying some cauliflower; I add some eggs and turn it over.

Eating it, I’m trying hard to remember not to forget the new 6 pack of socks I just bought.