I Am NOT Your Dreamweaver, so stop gawking at me in wonder and amazement.

I don't like this anymore than you do. Let's get through this evening intact. Two things. Thing #1: I promise not to lower myself into your mouth frivolously while you sleep; in the past it was only to capture something that I saw crawling in there, so I was actually doing you a favor by getting it out. I didn't have to do that, after all, which leads to Thing #2: there are things called portals that we use to enter and exit this world. I have no control where they open, and unfortunately for you, your throat is now one of them. So, let me draw up a contract between the two of us, where you don't accidentally crush or swallow me and I won't release a crippling load of venom into the roof of your mouth in retaliation, liquefying the flesh between your nasal cavity and your mouth and causing to drown on all of that slimy mess. And you can stop with the technical questions, right about now. This is not my dreary world, it's yours, you have a clearer idea of all that, it's not my problem.