No Safety in Sleep

“This is what you don't see.” Janine unpaused the recording and upped the contrast and tint until everything on the screen became spiky darkness.

Before I could say anything to contradict her, she pushed a button and bright colors appeared next to my head. Not next to—attached to. Four fat slugs pulsated in fluorescent yellows and reds. Each one the size of a banana, if bananas could become thickly corpulent, bearing a wide flat disc at one end fastened to my head. Their rhythmic movements made me think of throat muscles expanding and contracting while swallowing.

A wave of revulsion radiated through me. One of my hands crept to the spot where one of those things had touched me, feeling for a trace of anything left behind.

“What are they?” I asked. The words seem to catch in my throat and it took three times to get them out.

“Symbiotes from what I can tell.”

"They're feeding off me? Are they here now?"

Janine waved her hand dismissively. "No. They come and go but mostly show up when you're dreaming."