spaghetti squash

Most of my dreams repeat, but last night's dream was new.  I'm in the apartment, sometimes in the living room, other times in the kitchen, later in bed.  It is daytime.  Every few minutes, I notice a new gap or wide cut in my body.  Each is painless and bloodless and I do not notice them until I see them with my eyes or feel them with my fingers.  I feel no fear, only curiosity at their great depth.  Each cut goes almost through to the other side.  One cut is on the pad of my thumb, and goes clear through to the thumbnail: I can see its inner surface, backlit like pale stained glass by the sunlight coming through my bedroom window.  Another cut is to my thigh, another to my side, just below my ribcage.  There was no blood, no pain, no muscles, bones or organs.  Instead, there was only an excellent view of stringy, pale, slightly translucent flesh that was precisely like that of spaghetti squash!  I am certain that spaghetti squash is the object whose memory was used to paint these wounds in my mind's eye.  (We ate a lot of this and other varieties of squash growing up.)  The picture above nails it, right down to the slight glow of light through the thin, scraped out part of the squash.  It is rare that I can show, with good accuracy, a scene from a dream, but the picture above is very nearly what my thumb looked like (except that there was no fork, and nothing spilling out).  Awake, all of this seems gross, but in the dream it did not seem so.  Instead, there was just a sense of curiosity satisfied - so that's what I look like inside - and curiosity not satisfied - where are these gashes and cuts coming from?  My brothers and sisters will find it amusing that, after so much reluctant eating of squash as children, one of us eventually dreams that he really is made of the stuff.