Sunday Scribblings Prompt: Sleep & Teeth
"Teeth-...To dream that your teeth are very loose, portends to personal sickness; to dream that one of them comes out, denotes the loss of a friend or relative; to dream that they all fall out, is a sign of your own death."
-From the Universal Dream book published by W. Foulsham & Co. LTD. 1958
I solve problems in my sleep. It is a bizarre way to sleep, if you could call it sleep at all. I look at the obstacle in my minds eye from all sides, and inside out. Whether I am struggling or at odds with a work-related topic, a person or even trying to learn a new self-taught thing like crocheting a dog coat without a pattern. My eyes are closed and I fall into-and-out-of a jelly-roll type of consciousness with the repetition of my breadth. Finally, I come up with some kind of visual solution, an "ahh ha...that's it." moment. I have solved the problem literally, somehow I see it. Usually it is not until this moment that I have enabled myself to quiet my busy mind. A mind which in some form of tin-cymbal-clapping-monkey-way seems to be in a natural state of chisel hacking and gear turning. Sometimes, fortunately only rarely, I never reach this conclusive point and silencing me is a process of scrambling for little elfin helpers to induce sleep, like a glass a milk, or wine, or lastly, a sleeping pill or two.
Once a sleep, she is no longer me. She has ridden on the backs of whales, flown down flights of stairs and coasted over city skylines. Once a sleep, she can invoke a lover's touch, stop a rats oncoming vicious bite and dance herself into castles of glittery, shiny things.
This power is all her own, something she takes great joy and vindication in. No one can touch this place, for there she rules with throne and scepter.
Sometimes, once in a bright blue moon, she loses this magical power to control her dreams. She rises with ease unlike her true self in a pantomime of her morning ritual to go to work. She faces someone unlike herself in the mirror to see she has no teeth. They have all fallen out. The few that are left, are white pearls loose and dangling from a cord like acrobats in front of a fun house mirror at a carnival. These are the moments when she feels true helplessness. When the word 'can't' seems true. Where the weight of her 'real' body comes crashing back in and she is me all over again.
Thankfully it was just a dream.
http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/
Reader Comments (8)
oh i enjoyed this.. especially the third person narrative in the last two paragraphs... very well said....
I've always been fascinated by dream interpretations, but seldom remember my dreams... Nice post!!
I am so glad you commented on my post, because I came to look at yours, and I am very happy that I did! Your take on the prompt is very intriguing, and I really like the ink drawing too. I will be back. I am adding you to my blog roll.
Enjoyed the journey into your dreams.
your waking life is almost as intiguing as your dream reality...
wow. This is amazing, and really unexpected, since I've always known you as an artist, and not a writer.
A fascinating place, dreams. The third person narrative actually explains perefectly how they are perceived.
Reading it I felt if I was actually the one dreaming this. What a talented person you are all the way around. Thanks for visiting my blog.