The kid came up to me and said "I had the same problem, you just need to dig it out".
I looked to my hand, opened my palm and I could see a little black hair sticking out. No, it wasn't a hair. It was a leg. I wiggled and squirmed, and eventually a flying ant crawled out of my skin. It crawled about a bit, then flew off.
I looked again, and another had started to creep out of my hand. It too crawled out and flew off.
A larger one tried to emerge from the heel of my palm, but it struggled and got stuck. I grabbed it, and pulled. It hurt, but not excessively, and a spider was pulled out. I freaked out a little and threw it across the room. My hand was messed up, little holes where the ants had crawled. They weren't bleeding, but in the biggest hole, where the spider had been, I could see a crater in the dermal layers going down to red-raw skin below.
I could feel something else moving in my arm.
The kid opened up a school drawing set, and withdrew a large set of compasses, only the point was larger, like a sharpened straw of glistening silver metal.
"That's it, you just need to dig it out," the kid said.
He grabbed the skin on the inside of my elbow, and forced it into a bulge I could poke with the compass point. Strangely, it didn't hurt, as a huge, hairy tarantula crawled out of the hole I'd made. There was no blood again, despite digging a hole out of my arm about two centimetres across. The tarantula crawled off, turned and looked at me, and did a mocking dance. I shoo'd it away, resisting the urge to kill it...
And then I woke up.