I was rudely interupped from a vivid dream I had on Friday morning when I woke up to go to school.

In the dream, my fake tooth had spontaneously fallen out as was bleeding uncontrollably. There was no pain in the equation, but it was still somehow very uncomfortable. And when I woke up, I jumped into my shower for my wasteful, anti-enviromental routine of 13 minutes of standing around and 2 minutes of washing. During this time, I finally came to realize how ridiculous the whole scenario was and reached with the tip of my tounge to rub at my tooth. I was severely dissapointed; the tooth was still there. It’s odd that it took so long for me to question such an outrageous incident, but I guess that’s what happens when you wake up the body before the mind is ready.

Not a minute goes by these days without me pulling the aforementioned rubbing maneuver with my toungue. It’s sort of like one of those pointy nail things sprouting out of the side of your fingernails that you can’t ignore for some reason.

In fact, if my tooth was a person, I would very much fancy hitting it hard with a baseball bat. Unless of course, the tooth insists on being an impoversihed 6 year old girl, in which case I would probably have to resort to calling it names. And if the tooth turned into a 6′6″ bodybuilding actor, I guess I would just resort to posting annonymous hate messeges on it’s IMDB page.

I’m not sure that I want to visit the dentist again anytime soon, but this tooth is something that I definately don’t want to spend the rest of my life with.