A monster of a dream

It was small but seemed to weigh more than me. It was a reddish brown colour like dried blood but the worst part was that it's skin was translucent. Beneath it's octagon shaped body lay legs, eight of them crisscrossing under the skin in misshapen joints that penetrated it's skin and pressed out words so those eight black legs allowed it to clutch at my shirt with their thousands of joints and tiny claw tipped hands. It had no head, nor a specific direction where it was heading, when I finally dragged it off my clothing and whipped it at the ground I was more afraid because I couldn't tell where it was going next. Even though it was no bigger than a quarter I ran from the room and slammed the door. That thing was just wrong.