Drill, Baby, Drill

One of the most common dreams that people have involves teeth. I don’t know why that is, or whether there are any significance to dreams really, but there you have it. Of course, there are lots of people across the net who think they know what it means, but I having a sneaking suspicion that, like astrology and reading tea-leaves, it’s all a load of bollocks.

But the thing is, until last night, I am certain I’ve never had a dream about teeth. The previous night I’d had a dream about a stunning piece of music that moved me to tears in the dream. I woke up feeling very emotional indeed… but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what the song was. It was soooo good. One of the best songs ever. And I couldn’t even remember one note. Maybe it wasn’t that good then. I digress, but for a good reason. This is the type of dream I normally have. Plain, boring, but usually connected to something I like to do. In this case, music.

So to have a dream about teeth was quite a revelation. As usual, the whole thing made no sense at all. Here I was, in need of emergency dental surgery. No reason was given, but in my dream I knew I needed it. It was like my whole purpose in life was to receive a root canal. 

But this was no ordinary root canal treatment. I was strapped to the dentists chair, pleading for some anaesthetic. The dentist and his assistant were adamant that what I was about to undergo would be completely painless. I demanded it anyway, it was my right, I said. They said they would not administer it. For some reason, I let them go ahead anyway.

The dentist then proceeded to take out a power drill. A bloody big thing with a gigantically wide drill bit installed. I know exactly which tooth he drilled too, the one I’ve always wondered, each time I go for a check up, will the dentist want to put a filling in it this time. And he never does, because I have excellent teeth, lucky me. But this one just feels very deep.

So in went the drill. I can’t actually remember if it was painful or not in the dream. But he went in, drilling for ages. He stopped in the end, and I sat up on the edge of the reclined chair, and spat out huge amounts of tooth debris and blood, again and again. Spitting it onto the floor, no less. It was dark in the room, lit with red lights only to the side walls. It made the whole thing seem a bit sinister. Like a movie baddie torturing the hero of the film. 

After that, I again demanded anaesthetic. I walked away from the chair, saying I would not carry on the with the procedure until I got it. The dentists again refused. This carried on for ages and ages, the anger getting higher. But I had a feeling that said to me that I simply had to go ahead with this dental work, no matter what happened. Like I said, it was almost my goal in life to get it done.

So in the end I agreed, tearfully, to go back into the chair and carry on. It was with this feeling of resigned inevitability that I woke up…

At this moment, I realised that it’s been a very long time since my dentist called me for a checkup. So this morning, I put that right.

Maybe the dream had a purpose after all

UPDATE: in an extremely spooky turn of events, later the same day a reminder letter turned up from the dentist telling me to make an appointment for a checkup. I’m surprised they bothered, to be honest, as they appear to be able to do product placement in my dreams instead…