recurring daymare

I have a recurring daymare where
in daydream logic, I have self-worth 
- which has quantity, as it always might -
and is subject to undermine from birth. 
Then your husband walks in with a 
dinosaur, and the slugs creeping in 
through the walls get sore, and my wife
stands appalled at the Blob Itself - who
is only me! Hi - from that nightmare, 
once? You absorbed me, remember? And 
I became you. Now excuse me, I must
have to slither and slake to the depths 
of the earth. To hide? No, just do.
He's that kind of guy now. He regrets
who he ate, 'cause he is who he eats
at least that one time. And he only
absorbs little earthworms now. And
he's starving at best, since the mantle 
he's wrapped around himself
is quite far from fine, and sparse
where earthworms concern themselves.
And ungodly hot! Like a set of shelves
stocked with treasured books left to burn
in a fire where pets and loved ones
just concerned themselves. 

You Liar 

Okay that's not a daymare 
I have ever once had. But I had
it now! So in iron volition of adamant
I, hard and contrite, must surely vow: I
shall always be
daydreaming 
this daymare

now.