I woke up when my childhood started falling apart. My old bedroom was infested with termites. As I put my clothes away — hung up dresses that were increasingly gaudy and not at all my style — the nasty creatures started falling out of the ceiling.
My mom was no help. She just said “we’ll get someone to look at it” and went back to the kitchen. My brother Pedro was in his room (right next to mine) sick from something he caught while working on utility poles. He couldn’t get it of bed.
My other brother’s room was occupied by Aristotle (this guy I have a small crush on at work). He lets me hold his baby girl, which is confusing because he doesn’t have any kids. He’s even more single than I am! Yet, there was his girlfriend (or wife): a beautiful woman with snow-blonde hair. Her skin was made out of blushed plastic, just like the doll that was her daughter.
Is anyone else getting this creepy image of a man who collects dolls? I hope he’s not that guy!
Dream interpretation is ridiculous. If dreams do have meaning, then those meanings are personal to whomever is dreaming. They cannot be defined and thrown in a guidebook. For example: dreams of losing one’s teeth signify insecurity. Sure! I’m an insecure person, so I’ll buy that! However, my reoccurring nightmares of having my teeth fall out and pressing them back into my gums in the hope that they’ll re-root may just be the product of ten-plus childhood years spent in a dentist’s chair being told it’s my fault my teeth are awful. I just didn’t brush enough.
After all the cavities, abscesses, extractions, retainers, braces, etc., I would just like to say: my current dentist thinks I have beautiful teeth. So, ha! to you, every other DDS. This one is a keeper.
Still, I have a constant fear that something bad is going to happen. Sometimes, I convince myself that some of my teeth are loose or that I must have a cavity because one side of my mouth is getting sensitive. Then there’s my genetic baby tooth; I was told I would lose it by 19 and would have to have a fake one literally screwed in its place. Now I’m being told that it has a solid root and could last until I’m 35. (Thank you, Dr. Keeper!) Whenever I do lose my baby tooth, it will be a big deal; it’s right in front where a gap would be very noticeable.
I’m not afraid of getting old, but the idea of having dentures is terrifying.
As for my termite infested dollhouse dream, I’ll blame that on a combination of melatonin and Empire of the Ants. My subconscious may have supplied the scene and the characters, but that little melt away pill definitely wrote the script. And anyone who has read that book knows that it can cause some seriously weird thoughts and images even while awake.