A Time for Bravery

The dream is always the same. It is vile and hideous and a usurper of all that is wonderful in the delicate machinery that drives my sanity. Before this dream, all of my nighttime visions were preceded by a lovely little dancer. She has no face save for her eyes. To begin my dreams, she would dance with that tune from Erika Eigen: “I Want to Marry a Lighthouse Keeper.” After a time, she would lead me to any one of several doors, open the door, and set me to dreaming.

Now, she has disappeared it seems. My dreams start out black, and then the horror starts. The terror is simple and plain and I can never wake from the dream. I have awaken a few times and spoken to people only to immediately fall back aso not leep into the hideous churning of my subconscious. All that that the dream consists of is me standing or sitting somewhere and suddenly, my teeth begin to fall out. I panic and cry and plead for help, and no one can really do anything for me. It is always the same, it is always painless when the teeth fall out, it is always terrifying and sends chills to my soul that actually take a day and a few shots of absinthe to recover from afterwards.

This nightmare is one that comes directly from a true phobia: dentists. I have to go to one. Even still, I have to go to an oral surgeon and have teeth removed. Since one of these teeth has now broken, it is even more imperative that I go; in fact, my OCD demands it. However, that scathing dread that once that fellow has me unconscious in his chair, he will begin to worse than befoul my mouth with his tools. Maybe he will steal all of my teeth. Maybe he will implant a cyanide capsule that I will accidentally bite down upon one day, thus killing myself and fulfilling his evil plan. Maybe he will wax nostalgic for the medieval days and decide that in addition to a dentist, he is also, surgeon and barber. I could wake up with a my dreads mangled and my tonsils removed and covered in leeches and mustard plaster!

I am probably exaggerating this a great bit. But I cannnot shake the fear. My panic of the dentist is such that I need a sedative just to go to the damn place. However, now I know this is beyond necessary. My dental dread dream has begun to give me panic attacks. I wake from the dream ready to run and hide. I wake from the dream with my heart racing, pounding painfully against my chest like it is being kicked out by Chun Li using her multiple-leg kick technique-y thing. I wake with my temperature at a fever level and sweating bullets. After being awake the images stick in my craw and torment me randomly throughout the rest of the time I am awake following the dream.

It is time for me to face this fear; I am filled with dread, apprehension, and the desire to beg my doctor for St. George the Valium so that I can have the tools necessary to fight this dental-dragon. Goddess have mercy on my soul.



  1. Well damn, that is terrible. Maybe you should have someone go with you? To make sure the dentist doesn’t suddenly turn into Steve Martin? Seriously though, I think you should get it done as soon as possible, because it is probably the dread that is causing the nightmares and fear. I am well acquainted with dread.

    1. I typically get so sedated before and get put under while there; I cannot go alone, or else I would never get back as I would be too “high” to drive. I actually have no choice in the matter anymore, I am having trouble eating now…while part of me is questioning if could could survive on a total liquid diet, as a Fitness “Expert” that is an unwise life-choice for me (and so is smoking, but I have not quit that horrid habit yet). However, I am making the appointment. I am just too apprehensive to touch the phone to do so knowing what I am about to sign on for with the call. This guy should develop an app for the iPhone then I could make the appointment without the conversation. He could call it the “Dental App App” (TM).

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