Holes

I hate the deep, empty chasms. I hate not seeing the bottom. Having my back to it is worse. I had a dream a few years ago where I was a mouse (I think I ate just before bed) and I was dragged (literally) by my uncle (who was a devil) to see hell. And hell . . . hell was a pit. But I could see the bottom--at least some of it. These mice were suspended from the . . . ceiling? Just over huge spiders. A spider per mouse. The mice were just low enough that there was always the danger of being snapped up by the spider . . . but they never were. And I, standing there on the edge of the cliff with my uncle, was terrified.
A few years before that I had a dream with holes. This was less . . . storylike, however. I just remember a sea of holes--large holes, about six feet across--and out of each one a huge worm was squeezing. I don't mind earthworms, but I'm not so keen on worm with teeth. Which these did. And it was nasty, and I woke up terribly frightened.