Dental

Ah, Maine...

I have so much energy that I don't know how to contain myself! I run around the house and make funny noises and wonder how it could ever be any other way, and also question whether it is from being home, amongst my family, where everyone is free to be you and me; or if it's an effect of simply being in Maine, my comfort climate, geography, horticulture, blood; or if it's from traveling and discovering newfound direction in my life. No doubt it is a combination of those, and any number of other factors. It is a warm spring, and that always brings me out of my shell. I have a month to relax at this wonderful house, before I go to Pinewoods to chop vegetables, play music, dance, swim (and get paid!), and sacrifice absolutely nothing for pure bliss. I am learning how to make a perfect soft-boiled egg, which yesterday came out a little too hard, and today came out a little too soft (Yes, I ate a raw egg), and so logically tomorrow's attempt will be just right (if German fairy tales have any substance). I also love toast, and now I have some lovely Marmelade from England, and I die of eating food that tastes so good every time I eat it, because it tastes so good.

I often have dreams in which my teeth fall out. They come out in big bulky pieces and feel like sea shells in my mouth, and I say to myself in the dream (every single time), "Oh no! I've dreamt that my teeth have come out so many times, and now it's REALLY HAPPENING!!!" And I wake up with a jolt and remain frightened until I fall back to sleep. Someone told me once that it was a sign of insecurity, but that never seemed quite right. Certainly, if anyone has insecurities, it's me (in the tradition of my English heritage, I presume), but but but, my TEETH don't know that. I had one such dream the other day, but only ONE tooth came out. I decided that it was finally time to consult some dream interpretation guides, just to see what they say, even though of COURSE they don't apply to me, because I wasn't there when they were written. All of the books said the same thing: fear of growing up, or becoming an adult.

Uh.

So here I am, happy as can bee, and all I can do is express myself by making things up and having most useless (but highly entertaining) conversations about squids and force fields and upsidedownness, and then bouncing from wall to wall at whim and not even being afraid to fart. I struggle to picture myself sitting with one leg tucked neatly behind the other as I sport a navy blue suit and talk about business matters and bar charts with people who wear ties to express their innermost feelings. That is my image of adulthood. No wonder I'm scared.