Dreamy Wednesdays

Dreams

All people dream, but not equally.
Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their mind,
Wake in the morning to find that it was vanity.

But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people,
For they dream their dreams with open eyes,
And make them come true.

-D.H. Lawrence

I have a lot of weird dreams. They are driven by the temperature of my sleep, the deepness of my sleep, the activity out of my window, the traffic, the silence. I don't really ever have nightmares, though some dreams have left me ill at ease. Usually, they are just bizarre, and I have often popped up in bed to grab my journal and get it all down on paper before it floats out of my head as quickly as it arrived, and I am left with the hollow feeling that something important had just happened, and I can't remember what it was.

Everyone knows that dreams usually don't make sense in your head. You float around with friends you haven't seen in years in places you have never been, wearing things you wouldn't wear and doing things you wouldn't do. Nothing makes sense.

It is even worse when you write it down...though it can also seem poetic.

4-28

I dreamt that we were in a locker room, I think.

There was tile everywhere. So I am pretty sure it was a locker room.

I was with my mother and someone else, a friend.

We were about to leave and I got a searing pain in my lower stomach.

Then I started bleeding like I had my period, but it wasn't that.

My mom was freaking out and she made me sit in a tub while she called the hospital.

I kept bleeding and bleeding while my mom sat there with me.

I got blood on the tub and I apologized to her for it.

When you write down a dream, and you return later to read it, it is like reliving a memory. It is vivid and brings back familiar feelings. As if it had really happened...

No Date

I dreamt that I was at a coffee house in the airport, sitting across from Rob M. I was sipping coffee out of a white mug as he leaned over to kiss me, kissing the ceramic mug instead. I put the mug down, sort of laughing at the blunder, and we kissed each other.

Then we were at Big Moose and the waterfront was flooded.

We waded down into the lawn, the water reaching up over our waists.

We swim in the shallow but not, twisting and turning under the water, I am wearing all my clothing, and my hair is twisting and flowing through the water, covering my face.

I am swimming alone.

8:56- Memoir of the Dentally Challenged

Yesterday I got my front teeth fixed. What is wrong with my teeth? Let's go back, back, back.

The year is I have no idea. I am I don't know years old...maybe 12 or 13. It is summer. The pool is blue, the sky is blue, the grass green. It is glorious.

My mom always told us to use the ladder to get out of the pool. There were actually two ladders. The ladder in the deep end and the ladder in the shallow end...which was for chumps and little kids.

We didn't use the ladder it wasn't cool. I didn't use the ladder that day. My hands slipped, I fell back into the water, I didn't move my teeth out of the way of the side of the pool. I shattered most of my front teeth, leaving that cool boxer or hockey player look. Not cool for an adolescent girl already struggling to like herself even a bit.

What did my mother say? You can imagine it had something to do with using the ladder to get out of the pool.

So, here I am, years later, in the dentist chair. The front of my face is numb and there are drilling sounds and the distinct smell of burning and nail polish remover. That is the stuff they use to build up the composite. It smells and it burns my tongue. It is seeping down near my salivary glands and the taste is attacking my senses. The dentist mumbles to the hygienist who uses this curious gizmo that has is orange with a blue light. I think it is melting or molding composite onto my teeth. The dentist uses what looks like a wide piece of dental floss to smooth and polish the new space between my teeth. It catches my gums and I feel a slight sting as the Novocaine is starting to wear off.

"Novocaine starting to wear off, eh?" He says. This is where it turns bad. Something is not right with one of the teeth and he starts applying the nail polish smelling stuff. It stings my gums. He has cut my gums and put some stinking gunk in there. It stings and it tastes terrible. He uses the drill and a sander to smooth my new teeth, hitting my gums as I clasp my hands helplessly together and try not to look worried. I realize that my eyes are as wide as 50 cent gumballs and my eyebrows are pushed up to my hairline. I relax my face and put on a nonchalant look as my gums sizzle under the composite and drill action.

I think the dentist is satisfied. He stops looking into my mouth and I hear the snap of the rubber gloves.

"You can eat right away, but your gums may be a bit sore." He says in a flat tone as he wanders off toward his office. I was his last patient of the day.

"No shit" I think.

What was on the menu for dinner, you ask? I made pasta salad with Balsamic Vinaigrette dressing. Ouch.

In the end, it was worth it. My teeth looked good. I had a new smile. Until I ate dinner this evening. One minute I was eating, and the next my tooth didn't feel right. I dashed to the nearest mirror to have a look. It is coming off! My tooth is coming off!

I can taste the sour stinging flavor of the composite already. I can hear the drill. I can smell the sander and feel the water spraying everywhere. I can't wait to get back to the dentist.