Dentures, Drugs, and Dreams

I’ve been away for a bit, as I’m sure some of you have noticed. It wasn’t intentional by any means. I was doing so well, too; managed to write every day for almost two months straight.

But life happens, as everyone is aware. First it looked like the pneumonia might be coming back; then there was the possibility it was mono. But the real culprit to being deathly ill for nearly a month?

Severe infection in the jaw. Guess what the cure was?

Well, if you said “yank all your top teeth out,” you win a prize. I don’t know what that prize is, yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. I have access to the teeth… I suppose I could give you some of those, if you wanted… but only if you promise not to use them as DNA evidence to frame me for something or cast any voodoo on me. On second thought, maybe not. Might be kinda gross.

So, due to that, I haven’t really been able to eat or talk for almost a month. The pain medication they gave me also makes it almost impossible to focus and screws up my sleep – to say nothing of the near-constant nausea – so I don’t get much of interest done. It also tends to mess with my dreams, so I’ll just share a couple of those for now. Maybe someone else can decode them or will find them of interest.

In the first, for some reason I’m trying to convince a motivational speaker to come and give a lecture to teenagers at a church. The church is First Christian Church, one I was familiar with back in Carson City, though in the dream it has been abandoned and shuttered. I technically don’t have rights to use it or access to it, but for some reason it’s very important that I convince this person that I do.

I get there, and have no problem getting in, though the vestibule is filled with broken appliances. My guest speaker doesn’t seem to mind, merely asking questions about the congregation and how soon the building will be ready. I give him vague answers and wander further in.

The inside of the church turns out to be an ultra posh casino, and the priest’s quarters are like a penthouse apartment. The owner is, for some reason, the “Earl and Vicar of Brunswick.” Yeah, I dunno what that’s about, either. He’s old, and in the way you know things in dreams, I know he has a son, and they had a falling out. The falling out was because the Earl/Vicar and his son were playing a bit of wife swapping that didn’t end well.

That wasn’t the only swapping going on, though; they were also swapping faces, peeling them off and slapping on whatever they wanted. He wanted to bequeath the church/casino/penthouse to me for some reason. Again, in the way you know things, I knew this wasn’t actually the Vicar, but his son; they’d swapped and the actual Vicar was off galavanting with that youthful visage. Not sure why that would work – in the dream it seemed like they were just switching faces, but it seemed like that also made them immortal for some reason – and this fake Vicar wanted to will everything to me then swap with my face and take it all back. Despite knowing that, I still agreed.

That’s where the dream ended. I have no idea what it means.

I know I said there were two, but this has gone on for a bit and I’m not feeling so hot. I’ll share the other in a bit.

Until next time.

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