One night about seven years ago, I woke up in a cold sweat. “Oh, they’re still there.” My teeth, that is. I felt my mouth—just another dream about my teeth falling out. In fact, I had this dream so often that I started calling it the “Teeth Series.”
I was going through a rough time. To add to my stress, my dreams were stressful, too! At the time people around me said, “It’s good to dream. It means your subconscious is working through things.” Easy for them to say. They were not having visions of bloodied teeth in their hands or toothless grins. Dreams of my teeth falling out were beginning to freak me out. It was as though I was playing the starring role in Nightmare on Elm Street.
I’d read that teeth falling out was a common dream and was probably about control. It was true some things had happened at the time that were beyond my control and were causing me immense stress, but Just knowing that this was a universal dream made me feel better. And I must admit, it did make for funky poetry. Here’s one:
“My Last Tooth”
Looking at the mirror
All had fallen out
Then I had a few
Then some were falling out
And then baby teeth
Were falling out
And some were large and falling out.
And finally
I took them out
Big, bloody ones stored in back.
I twisted and pried
And then the set were back.
And then one was out.
And then all were back.
My teeth were there.
And I was back.
Later, the more I thought of the “Teeth Series” as dreams that were helping me understand my stress (or write poetry, no matter the quality), the better I felt. I started writing the dreams down, which gave me a feeling of control, rather than panic. And, in later versions of the dream, (as reflected in the above poem), something else happened. I was taking out the teeth and moving them around. In fact, I was taking charge of my life at about the same time. And the teeth were coming back (which must be positive, right?). Something frightening had turned into something powerful.
Other dreams also had a healing power. The “gum in my mouth” dream, though odd, forced me to question whether I felt “stuck” in some relationships—or felt unable to talk about it. Either way, the dream was powerful and writing it down enabled me to actually talk and later heal. Here is the gum in my mouth dream, which I also turned into a poem:
“Gum In My Mouth”
I was touring a school
And then a house filled with people.
Someone had been looking for me.
He’s sitting in an auditorium saying,
“Hey, come over here and sit on my lap.”
I want to get away.
I’m too old for that.
And then, in a café,
I yell at the staff because they have left glass
everywhere and I am getting cut on my bare feet.
Going to the top floor
opening and shutting doors on strange people.
I stand at the top of a building.
I scale down
the side of a building, afraid
I’d fall. I don’t.
It stops raining and I’m in the midst
of a lot of people.
Shoeless.
In a room many people dancing. I place my hand
on one man’s leg, then keep walking.
Back in another crowded room of the crowded house.
I am on the stairs looking down on John,
as he races by me. I say, “I’m here.”
He says that a friend of his had seen me and that I seemed fine.
But I don’t reply.
Later again outside the crowded house
It’s John modeling, while a friend takes his picture.
It’s John. He’s across the street.
