by HelluvaGirl

The setting looks like the City Hall during a national music festival. People in winter coats gathered everywhere; halls-turned-changing-rooms; everything’s a mess, everyone’s late; I stand in front of a mirror and look at myself. As I make a fake smile, my front tooth falls out. 

I try to put it back into its cavity but it just won’t stay. I’m in shock. I carry the tooth hidden in my left hand and expect to get by unnoticed if I just don’t smile throughout the ceremony.

Soon after I loose all of my front teeth. A panic attack. Now there are 6 or 8 teeth in my left hand.

My groom looks like early Michael Jackson. He’s someone I’ve known a long time. He wears a dusty mauve bomber jacket and casual grey trousers. His dreadlocks are neatly tied at the back.

And he’s missing.

I look at myself in the mirror of an upstairs chamber. A white garden tea-party dress with royal blue flowers. The clothing choice surprises me even in the dream, but I couldn’t care less. I see myself very slim and my plummy-pink lipstick shade makes me look fresh-faced.

I look like summer in the middle of winter.

Except when I open my mouth, the gums in the toothless orifice look rotten as if I have drowned weeks ago and nobody found me.

Wake up hyperventilating. First seconds, am relieved.

A moment later, I remember. Whenever I dream my teeth falling out, it’s the same news. Every single time I have hoped it was just common knowledge and superstition I generally look down on, I found it to be an actual message no one ever wishes to get.

Only I get it before the call.