This daily blogging malarkey isn’t easy since I don’t like to blather on about any old thing. I’m not one for too much personal disclosure on blogs, and yet when it’s done well on other journals I enjoy it.

So today, something about me. I’m not promising enjoyment, however.

I don’t believe I have ever suffered from recurring nightmares. If it happens it’s likely there is an unresolved problem in your psyche, and until you address it your mind will keep putting you through the same scenario again and again until you make the necessary breakthrough.

The closest I’ve experienced is a classic anxiety dream that crops up every once in a while: my teeth fall out. It never occurs exactly the same way, but usually my tongue feels a loose tooth, and of course I probe at it until there’s blood in my mouth and I’m spitting out a tooth. I run to a mirror to inspect the damage. I stretch back my lips and fear slams through me when I realise that all my teeth are wobbly. I cannot stop myself from examining them. They slip and twist in my gums, unstable and traitorous. My mouth sheds them like leaves in autumn. They fall out in clumps to rattle on the floor or drop into my cupped hands. I can do nothing to stop it.

When I wake up my fingers dart to my mouth and I touch my teeth to ensure they are intact, and not scattered and glued to the sheets by spit and blood.

After I regain my calm – and brush, floss, and gargle mouthwash – I try to track down what’s bothering me to the point that my own mind is metaphorically suggesting that I can’t even depend upon my teeth.

That’s not always simple, but I’ve never had the dream two nights in a row.

Sometimes the answer is the most obvious one, and I make an appointment to see the dentist.

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