It is a bizarre feeling when one is no longer able to distinguish between one's dreams and one's waking life, as both possess an unmistakeably-nightmarish sense of déjà vu. At the risk of being labeled as a self-important ass who feels inexplicably compelled to blog about every pointless detail of my dreams, I will attempt to describe one of the several nightmares I had last night, hopefully making it seem less real in the process.
My teeth begin to rot and crumble, exposing their soft, black cores as they fall out one by one. I easily pull the last few out from my infected gums; they are already so loose, it does not even hurt. Frightened, I tell my parents, and they take me to the hospital, where they take samples from my mouth and perform countless tests. The doctors tell me that I have a life-threatening disease and that they must operate immediately. I am hooked up to fluid-pumping tubes that cover my entire body; there is even one attached to each of my toes. The doctors force me to inhale a gas with a sickeningly-sweet chemical smell. I feel myself slipping into a hazy, dreamlike state, and yet the pain is very real as they begin to slice open my grotesquely flapping gums with their scalpels, removing all the remaining shards of tooth. There is red everywhere. I regain consciousness (or maybe I actually wake up from my dream--it is hard to say), only to have the breath knocked out of me by an overwhelming sense of loss and abandonment. I scream for help, and the doctors tell me that the operation was a failure and that I am dying from loss of blood. I turn to look at the hospital bed next to mine and see my cat Reggie and my parent's dog Parker lying there, their tiny bodies also covered in tubes. They tell me they have caught my disease. Sobbing uncontrollably, I realize that they, too, have been abandoned.
My teeth begin to rot and crumble, exposing their soft, black cores as they fall out one by one. I easily pull the last few out from my infected gums; they are already so loose, it does not even hurt. Frightened, I tell my parents, and they take me to the hospital, where they take samples from my mouth and perform countless tests. The doctors tell me that I have a life-threatening disease and that they must operate immediately. I am hooked up to fluid-pumping tubes that cover my entire body; there is even one attached to each of my toes. The doctors force me to inhale a gas with a sickeningly-sweet chemical smell. I feel myself slipping into a hazy, dreamlike state, and yet the pain is very real as they begin to slice open my grotesquely flapping gums with their scalpels, removing all the remaining shards of tooth. There is red everywhere. I regain consciousness (or maybe I actually wake up from my dream--it is hard to say), only to have the breath knocked out of me by an overwhelming sense of loss and abandonment. I scream for help, and the doctors tell me that the operation was a failure and that I am dying from loss of blood. I turn to look at the hospital bed next to mine and see my cat Reggie and my parent's dog Parker lying there, their tiny bodies also covered in tubes. They tell me they have caught my disease. Sobbing uncontrollably, I realize that they, too, have been abandoned.
Yep, that was a nightmare. Awesome description. No matter how civilized we become, there will always be emotional events that take over our psyche. I like the example of two people having an intense intellectual debate when suddenly an infant screams from another room. All the fine nuances are lost as they rush to attend to the child...who probably is perfectly ok.
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