Naptime

I dreamt a horrible dream. A dream so horrid that I can still feel its memory sending a chill down my spine, even though I’m up now.
What started as a rom-com spiraled into the freakiest dream ever. The dream started as a spin off of Julia Roberts’ My Best Friend’s Wedding; where I’m getting married to some guy that I don’t remember having any face or name. Daniel, on the other hand, is my best friend who lives in the garage. Just like any other movie, a day before my wedding I realise that Daniel’s my one and only true love and I run into his arms. This was ideally to be the cliched climax to my dream movie.
But my subconscious, had something else in store for me and decided to scare the shit out of me. Daniel and I were napping together in my parent’s old house (we don’t live there anymore) on the same mattress covered in the same blanket that we were, in fact, actually napping on. I guess that was the connecting thread between the outside reality and my dream hell that followed.
We were woken up by some pestering cousins or friends who turned into my parents and some unknown people. Just some junior artists my brain conjured up to fill the space in the room. The scene that I opened my eyes to was a celebration of sorts, probably a party for our extended relatives on account of our wedding. Now while I’m awake, I wonder what weddings are for then. Daniel and I are rushed by our parents to get ready.
I go to the mirror to take a glimpse of my face and lazily roll my tongue over my teeth. That’s when I feel one of my molars moving. Mind you, this is probably the fourth or fifth time that I’ve dreamed of that same molar coming off. I thought to myself, ah, so I guess this is one of those days again.
Unfortunately it wasn’t. I prompt the tooth with my tongue some more to see how bad it is and it pops out, albeit for one tiny mass of gum where it’s still attached. I pluck it out with my hand and all hell breaks lose. The bell on the door rings and I hear a huge crowd rush in. At that exact moment, I pull the tooth and it takes with it a large part of the gum beneath and pulls out all of my teeth on the lower jaw. The blood gushes out and within seconds my tee shirt is soaking wet with my own blood. I look at myself in the mirror in horror, but my bloody, toothless reflection is smiling at me. I collect all the scattered teeth from the floor as I give hurried and muffled replies to some relatives who are calling out to me and rush to the bathroom.
I have all the teeth collected in my tee shirt now, just when I feel another one of my molars, now on the right side, move. I just gape in fright and it falls off. And as if on cue the rest of my teeth start falling one by one clanking against the hard bathroom floor, rendering me shaken. I turn around to see a mirror on the wash basin. I look like a vampire who just fed on raw blood.
I see my Mum coming toward me and I’m broken off my trance of horror. I breakdown and scream. My Mum is calm and composed. I yell at her. I yell that I think I’m dying. That one by one all my body parts are going to fall off my body and all that’s left of me would be just a limp lifeless mass lying on our kitchen floor. All my Mum has to offer is, ‘This has happened at a bad time. There are so many guests. How will you show them your face?’ And then suddenly I see her face drain off all the blood. She is standing there wide eyed. Her mouth half open and parched dry. We are looking at one another with the same fear and as if our thoughts became one, we both realise that this is some horrid kind of witchcraft and I’m the victim of the darkest of magic.
Just then my Mum asks, “Should I eat your teeth?” And my brain kicks itself and orders me. Wake up, Mohita.
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