Most of One Molar

I’m in California with my sister and her family. I just woke up.  3:08AM. It’s three hours later at home and I know I’m not going back to sleep. I’ve had enough sleep. I’m wondering if the coffee which my brother-in-law set up last night and I’m listening to brew will be any good. I’m also trying to figure out why there is no “end” button on my sister’s Apple laptop. (I’m sure there’s a cute name for this machine, like “The Turnover” or “The Crumpet,” but I think it should have been named “The Can’t-Be-Bothered-With-Particular-Buttons-Stupid-Rotten Apple.”)

The coffee machine just went quiet. Because I’m trying to be a good house guest, I poured my first cup in the dark and on my hand. It’s hot enough to cause reddening of the skin and weak enough to cause a pursing of my lips.

If I were home, I’d be looking at a “normal time” on the clock, “end” on my keyboard, and the espresso maker for a couple of shots to enhance the taste and caffeine in my coffee.

I’m out of my element in the foreign climes of Los Angeles — North Hollywood, to be more specific.

And last night, I dreamt some person extracted most of my upper, right last molar, managing to remove three of the four roots. It came out with its filling intact, leaving the taste of blood in my mouth.

I have regular tooth dreams. While most of them are of me grinding my teeth so hard that they crumble to dust in my mouth — which is no pleasant experience — at least in those dreams, I’m the reason for the toothlessness. In last night’s dream, someone else was there, and I don’t think I consented to the procedure.

So what does it mean?

(Side note: When I shared with some of my fellow yoga practitioners that I’d dreamt I’d stepped in a large pile of soft dog feces, they tried to put a positive spin on the ONLY possible interpretation of that dream.)

There are several ways to interpret dreams about teeth. Some see teeth as the subconscious’s symbol of the dreamer’s personality; some see them as the symbol for constancy and strength. When bad things happen to the dreamer’s teeth, it usually means that the dreamer is feeling out of control and powerless.

I’d say that’s about right.

Yesterday began with my surrendering to the unpredictability of air travel with its concomitant humiliating safety screening and involuntary choice of neighbor resulting in a sleeping, slouchy person to my left who couldn’t be bothered to share the armrest for six hours. Midday, I read the news from Paris. The night wrapped up with my watching the Democratic Debate.

No wonder I had a dream — in a strange bed — about the loss of control, the loss of control at the hands of others. It makes sense, though the reasoning of it fails to make me feel even marginally comfortable.

I’m out of my element. And I think it is safe to say, we all are.

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