[astigmatic much?] pith.org content, daily-like
most recently
archive

Tuesday July 17, 2001, 18:39

I woke up this morning because of a dream I was having. This hasn't happened to me in a long time. The last time, I was maybe ten years old. Twelve? I don't remember. I had been dreaming about ghosts. They were all over my house. And my baby sitters were there. They were all wearing the same socks. That is, all of their socks looked the same. And there was a ghost in the attic that jumped out at me when I went upstairs with someone who had taken me upstairs to show me that there weren't any ghosts. That was the last time I remember so vividly a dream that had woken me up.

This time was a bit more grounded in reality. Well, it had groundings in reality, and then very quickly went into the realm of analytic dream fodder. The history comes first.

Last Saturday I had brunch with a friend of mine from Boston. As I was finishing up my omelette, I bit into a small pebble that had somehow found its way into my meal. I heard a crunch and spit out a mouth of food. There was no blood, and no pieces of teeth followed. I spent the remainder of the day feeling my teeth, both with my tongue and with my finger, to make sure that there was no damage. There was none.

Last night I dreamt that I had bitten into this same pebble. The experience was the same one that I had last weekend, and I remembered thinking, in the dream, that it was quite unfortunate that I had to keep reliving this experience. But when I felt around my mouth, with my tongue, for damage, I found that one of my teeth was loose. It wasn't really strange to me that this should be the case. After all, I had just bitten down on a small stone. But when I started pushing the tooth back and forth, I was surprised at the ease with which it moved, and even more so when it simply fell out onto my tongue. I was slightly concerned, mostly because of my current lack of dental insurance, but never the less tipped my face forward and cupped my hand to receive the now freed tooth.

I opened my mouth as all of my teeth, suddenly bored with their moorings in my gums, proceeded to tumble out of place, passing over my tongue, past my lips and into my open palm. I gasped, but could not speak for fear of swallowing a mouthful of teeth. I spit them out in bunches, my jaw getting lighter, my cheeks caving in to fill the space now left for them.

And I woke up. I woke up to find myself still clothed lying face down in my pillow. I was on top of the covers having not quite made it fully to bed. Shaken, I pulled myself up off of the bed and went into the other room. A bit of research taught me that losing one's teeth has been known to signify a sense of powerlessness, among other things. Loss of control in a situation. Personally, I think that it has to do with a dinner conversation about wisdom teeth, but the fact remains that four o'clock in the morning found my hunched form tapping away at the computer, trying to extract the meaning of my dream.

I crawled back into bed, still uneasy, and slept the rest of the night.

I dreamt of nothing.

[ permanent link ]

[ email love | your love | consumer love ]

------------------

search the past

remember the past

1999
    aug 04 05 06 08 09 11 12 15 17 22 26 30
    sep 01 03 07 12 20 28
    oct 04 14 18 22
    nov 02 07 12 19 25 26 27
    dec 12 15 18 28 31

2000
    jan 02 06 11 12 18 29
    feb 03 10 14 17 21 23 28 29
    mar 05 06 20 22 25 26
    apr 02 05 06 08 09 10 12 13 17 20 21 24 25 28 29
    may 03 05 08 11 12 15 17 17b 18 18b 21 23 25 29 30 31
    jun 01 01b 03 06 07 08 10 13 14 16 18 21 23 25 30
    jul 03 06 09 10 13 16 26
    aug 02 03 04 08 10 17 21 25 29
    sep 06 07 12 13 18 24
    oct 06 11 12 19 30 31
    nov 08 11 22 26 30
    dec 01 10 14 21 30

2001
    jan 01 09 14 16 30
    feb 11 15 20 22
    mar 06 08 09 21 25 30
    apr 01 04 05 09 13 18 23 24 25 28
    may 04 09 11 14 16 17 21 25 31
    jun 02 08 20 21 28 29
    jul 07 13 17 28
    aug 14 24 26
    sep 09 12 23 24
    oct 10 26 28 31
    nov 11 17 18 28 30
    dec 02 08 15 18 26

2002
    jan 03 07 08 18 20 23
    feb 04 05 17 19 22
    mar 06 10 13 15 17
    apr 13 16 19 26
    may 03 13 16 21
    jun 08 15 21
    jul 03 05 10 18 24
    aug 03 18
    sep 11 20
    oct 03 05
    nov 10
    dec 30

2003
    jan 19
    feb 04 14 27
    mar 10 23 31
    apr 11 15
    may 26
    jun 16 29
    aug 17
    sep 15
    oct 08
    nov 30
    dec 11 24 28

2004
    jan 06 23 30
    feb 01 21
    mar 04 09
    apr 15
    may 02 10
    jul 03
    aug 02 16 30
    oct 04 17
    nov 28
    dec 28

2005
    jan 03 24
    mar 24
    may 28
    aug 01 10
    sep 03
    oct 12 28
    dec 25

2006
    jan 01 07 16
    feb 02 13 28
    mar 12 13
    apr 17

other things to look at

back home