My eyes, riddled with rivulets of red, burst open.
"What a dream..."
Relief washed away the terror like ocean waves bathing a battered shoreline.
I have long been given to dental nightmares, but the dream that haunted me that night was abnormally vivid. There I lay, reclining in a dentist's chair, bright lights scorching my corneas. Over me stood a menacing figure, liveried in white. Embroidered on his chest was "Dr. Butcher, D.D." He forced his metal implements into my mouth, extracting my teeth one by one. With each groan and gush of blood, another tooth fell to the floor. My cries went unheeded as he plucked away in his ruthless rage.
Now awake, I slid out of bed, grateful to be back among the conscious. I stumbled into the bathroom and splashed some water onto my weary face. Something felt amiss. Having left my glasses beside my bed, I squinted as I leaned into the mirror, my mouth agape.
"No..."
I rubbed my eyes and leaned in still further.
"Noooooooooo!"
I pulled at my gums as a I pressed my face against the mirror, but I could not find them--my teeth--they were all gone! I ran a wary finger along my vacuous gumline, the evidence of sutures still detectable. A thousand questions flooded my brain simultaneously, the obvious "How? When?" and "Why?" at the front of the pack.
They had all come true--all those dreams from which I was so happy to awaken.
I let out a primal yell as I my clenched fist shattered the mirror. Shards of glass exploded around me. Blurry-eyed, I looked down to see blood dripping from my still-clenched fist. My head began to spin. The room went white. I collapsed to the floor, my skull striking something blunt as I fell. Lying on the cool floor, shards of glass piercing my cheek, I was surrounded by professionals wearing slip-resistant footwear. White turned to black.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I awoke on what I could only assume was the next morning. I tried to pull the covers back, but I found my extremities were bound--straitened, if you will. I lay bound on a rigid bed in the center of a plain room. This room was different--padded walls encompassed me. I struggled to free myself, my failure sinking me into a sullen stupor.
A knock at the door.
"May we come in?" a voice asked.
"Do I have a choice?" I replied, my speech incredibly awkward and deliberate.
The door crept open and a middle-aged woman in scrubs appeared in my room, a tray of multicolored poisons in her hands.
"You have a visitor," she said enthusiastically.
"Oh?" I said, my left eyebrow arching.
"Would you like her to come in?"
I nodded.
Into the room stepped my wife, her face sympathetic, yet scared. She sat down on the bed beside me, squeezing me tightly.
"How are you?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer.
I maintained my silence, peering over my shoulder at the nurse who was keeping watch from the corner of the room. My wife followed my eyes and asked her to leave us alone.
As she complied, my wife turned to me again and asked, "How are you, baby?"
"I'm...I'm not good," I admitted. "Look what they did to me!" I said, opening my mouth widely. Her response took me aback.
"I know," she said calmly.
"You know?" I said incredulously.
"I know," she said again, her voice low and guarded.
I stood and backed away from her, my incredulity fading into paranoia. "Did you let them do this me?" I asked.
She stood and pursued me cautiously, her trembling hands reaching out to calm me.
"No one did this to you, my love. You did this to yourself...you pulled them all out."
I backed into the wall and dropped to the floor.
"No...that doesn't make sense. Why...why would I do that?"
She joined me on the floor, our shoulders touching and tears pooling in the corner of our eyes.
"I don't know...no one knows..." She wrapped her arms around me and rocked me maternally. "I don't know, but I'm here for you. We'll get through this."
"No," I muttered, mostly to convince myself of my own innocence and sanity.
"No...it doesn't make sense..."
"What a dream..."
Relief washed away the terror like ocean waves bathing a battered shoreline.
I have long been given to dental nightmares, but the dream that haunted me that night was abnormally vivid. There I lay, reclining in a dentist's chair, bright lights scorching my corneas. Over me stood a menacing figure, liveried in white. Embroidered on his chest was "Dr. Butcher, D.D." He forced his metal implements into my mouth, extracting my teeth one by one. With each groan and gush of blood, another tooth fell to the floor. My cries went unheeded as he plucked away in his ruthless rage.
Now awake, I slid out of bed, grateful to be back among the conscious. I stumbled into the bathroom and splashed some water onto my weary face. Something felt amiss. Having left my glasses beside my bed, I squinted as I leaned into the mirror, my mouth agape.
"No..."
I rubbed my eyes and leaned in still further.
"Noooooooooo!"
I pulled at my gums as a I pressed my face against the mirror, but I could not find them--my teeth--they were all gone! I ran a wary finger along my vacuous gumline, the evidence of sutures still detectable. A thousand questions flooded my brain simultaneously, the obvious "How? When?" and "Why?" at the front of the pack.
They had all come true--all those dreams from which I was so happy to awaken.
I let out a primal yell as I my clenched fist shattered the mirror. Shards of glass exploded around me. Blurry-eyed, I looked down to see blood dripping from my still-clenched fist. My head began to spin. The room went white. I collapsed to the floor, my skull striking something blunt as I fell. Lying on the cool floor, shards of glass piercing my cheek, I was surrounded by professionals wearing slip-resistant footwear. White turned to black.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I awoke on what I could only assume was the next morning. I tried to pull the covers back, but I found my extremities were bound--straitened, if you will. I lay bound on a rigid bed in the center of a plain room. This room was different--padded walls encompassed me. I struggled to free myself, my failure sinking me into a sullen stupor.
A knock at the door.
"May we come in?" a voice asked.
"Do I have a choice?" I replied, my speech incredibly awkward and deliberate.
The door crept open and a middle-aged woman in scrubs appeared in my room, a tray of multicolored poisons in her hands.
"You have a visitor," she said enthusiastically.
"Oh?" I said, my left eyebrow arching.
"Would you like her to come in?"
I nodded.
Into the room stepped my wife, her face sympathetic, yet scared. She sat down on the bed beside me, squeezing me tightly.
"How are you?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer.
I maintained my silence, peering over my shoulder at the nurse who was keeping watch from the corner of the room. My wife followed my eyes and asked her to leave us alone.
As she complied, my wife turned to me again and asked, "How are you, baby?"
"I'm...I'm not good," I admitted. "Look what they did to me!" I said, opening my mouth widely. Her response took me aback.
"I know," she said calmly.
"You know?" I said incredulously.
"I know," she said again, her voice low and guarded.
I stood and backed away from her, my incredulity fading into paranoia. "Did you let them do this me?" I asked.
She stood and pursued me cautiously, her trembling hands reaching out to calm me.
"No one did this to you, my love. You did this to yourself...you pulled them all out."
I backed into the wall and dropped to the floor.
"No...that doesn't make sense. Why...why would I do that?"
She joined me on the floor, our shoulders touching and tears pooling in the corner of our eyes.
"I don't know...no one knows..." She wrapped her arms around me and rocked me maternally. "I don't know, but I'm here for you. We'll get through this."
"No," I muttered, mostly to convince myself of my own innocence and sanity.
"No...it doesn't make sense..."
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