Flowings of Your Everlasting Taffyman

I woke up with 2 things on my mind, 1 now, 1 later when I know what I want to write about it,
Mike's feelings on tanning delivered through a short dream.
Somehow I had become tan, maybe it was the week in Vancouver, laying on the beach with my pant legs rolled up, maybe I had just been outside a little too much lately, maybe all those kids who always thought of me as pasty finally decided to do something -slipped me a roofie(spelling) took me to a tanning salon during my normal sleeping hours (daytime). That was not the point, no, being tan is not so bad its not great but its not horrible and under normal circumstances would probably make me look healthier, so at least my parents would be happy. However this was not just tan, this was burnt (with tan coloring). My skin was peeling scabbed over horrendous disgusting. Cracks appeared like they do in the desert on a hot day, blistered, skin could be ripped off like paint on an old house, and I of course, being the little boy that I am, tore the scabs from the flesh. My already gross and malnourished, unmuscular legs now had large pieces of skin and flesh just ripped from them as I watched and continued with fascinated horror. My back and chest which already reveal my skeleton frame, started showing my skeleton frame amongst blood, and skin and flesh and it was hideous, so I kept wondering why there was this crowd of "good looking people" around me, oohing and awing and talking about how handsome I looked.
-sorry this is so weird and doesn't really make sense, it is a dream I mean they don't have to.