Monday, June 27, 2016

My teeth fall out while I'm visiting a professor. Another one puts them back in. (dream)

Image by I, DavidShankbone [GFDL (, CC-BY-SA-3.0 ( or CC BY-SA 2.5-2.0-1.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons


I'm in one of my professors' offices, visiting. It's an orange-painted sewer underneath a subway station.

"Try to take a bite out of this," he says, holding out a blue-gray, rubbery block.

Try? It's definitely not edible. It looks like rubber. I do bite, but I change the way ordinarily do it in order to try to tackle this it. I go slowly. It's rock hard. Somehow, two of my teeth loosen.

That can't have happened...

I roll my tongue against them lightly. They offer no resistance and don't spring back into place. They're definitely out, but might still be dangling by a thread of flesh.

I don't say anything. I do get up, find a way to silently convey my goodbyes and exit.

I need this fixed now. I can't go around with two huge, gaping holes in my mouth. 

It's hardly vanity; you simply won't get work or help or even paid services if you look too scrubby in this town. I get out my phone and text my major's adviser. He agrees to an appointment.

He knows everything. He'll know what to do.

Feeling a little more at ease, I find the right subway platform and wait, taking note of the city's brick red and burnt orange theme.

I didn't bite into it that differently from normal. 

Well, I guess I should've known with that guy. If he tells you to do something, you'd better do it exactly right, because he's already thought of every possible contingency.

But would he know that someone's teeth could fall out if they didn't bite exactly the way he suggested?

I rant to myself until my train comes and I get to my stop. I go up to my adviser's apartment building and take the elevator up to his office. I step past the black, Gothic door cage which covers the archway like a lacy exoskeleton and I enter a spacious, orange-painted apartment lit only by a desk lamp. Books and papers are strewn all over the living room. There's a clear view of a full moon outside. It was a sunny afternoon only a minute ago.

He's expecting me, but he's clearly got a million other things running in the back of his mind. It doesn't bother me. I'm not worried that he won't be able to concentrate on our dental appointment, because it's him, but I do wonder what those things that are on his mind could be.

He assures me that these things happen, that he has to meet with his wife at a certain time, but that the teeth should reset before then. I'm glad I won't have to embarrass myself in front of the first teacher. My adviser assures me that this happens to students all the time. He asks me to sit in a chair while he builds a tooth out of UV-curable material.

I try to picture what my teeth must be going through today. I still don't understand what's happened or what's going to happen, but I have to make several more appointments before my teeth will be fixed, unfortunately.

He leaves me alone in his apartment while he goes to his appointment with his wife. I'm amazed that he would trust me to stay here with my teeth cure. The sun comes back up, illuminating the room and the wind flutters the papers a bit. I'm able to start looking at them.


Teeth almost always represent knowledge. Loosening teeth represent the need to acquire new ways of chewing into and digesting information. Trains represent journeys. This dream is pretty straight forward. It represents some of my feelings in my journey in education up until we get to the second apartment in which the adviser urgently has to meet his wife.

In the dream, I definitely wasn't under the impression that it was a fantastic event he was looking forward to, although this particular individual is more emotionally-neutral and stable than the one I dreamed about earlier, so it's not certain. But there's still that odd, uncomfortable meeting and the sense that they're both upset and planning something around their wives, and it doesn't match up to anything in real life. So it must be some sort of archetype or role I'm assigning to them. And I don't know how that would fit into my subconscious experience of life at this time. I wonder what archetype for instructors and their spouses I would build for myself would be, and why would I build it that way! I've never read about such a pairing in a dream dictionary before.

One thing that makes me laugh is how my first professor's office hours are in a sewer- a very nice, comfortable, furnished sewer. I think this is a reference to Master Splinter in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! The man impresses me so favorably in real life! He has great facility with the exam material and is constantly surprising me with new tidbits of information. He's funny and interesting and well-versed in areas outside of his department. He helps lots of students out with a variety of subjects that have nothing to do with the classes he's teaching. He's not afraid to challenge or call us out on... "things" either, which I like (represented by the hard, rubber shape he wants me to bite into). Sometimes I think he must be psychic.

I've always been equally impressed with the next professor I went to in the dream too, whose similarly orange-painted "office" I attend (orange symbolizes friendship, enthusiasm, and possibly spirituality since some Buddhist monks sport orange uniforms). The moon and the night and the dark all represent more comfortable, cool, "deeper" journeys to me, personally, since I've always been a solid night owl. I'm very interested in one of the subjects he specializes in, so perhaps that's why I'm reading his papers, even when he isn't present. There aren't undergraduate classes in his specialty, so I'm trying to learn more about it on my own.