Lost my Fangs

I was walking down an unpaved alley. There were blackberry bushes, puddles and cats.

Suddenly, a speeding primer-spotted lowrider appeared. It came toward me so fast that I couldn't get out of the way. It actually ran over me. I lay flat on my back and saw the underside of the car for a few seconds. The car didn't stop, and soon it was gone.

I got up and brushed myself off. My knees felt skinned, and I recalled that I hadn't skinned my knees in ages. Then I felt something odd in my mouth.

I opened my mouth and my upper canine teeth fell out, roots and all. In my hand they looked a lot more like fangs than usual.

[My teeth are amazingly flat and harmless-looking, and my fingernails are short and rounded. Good thing Man uses tools! I keep a Swiss Army Knife in my left front pants pocket.]

As in every other dream where I lose my teeth, this upset me greatly. I ran down the alley.

After a long time, I came to a street. One of the houses looked familiar, and I went in. The living room was painted white and had a white carpet. On the wall were the black and white photos of the Beatles from their eponymous double album, aka "The White Album." Anyway, that filled up one wall.

In the middle of the room, in a spherical white chair, sat a woman clad in white who I thought I knew, but I'm not sure where from. She looked upon me with infinite compassion and I showed her my teeth, which looked very yellow in this white room.

She picked them up gently from my outstretched palm and wordlessly bade me kneel down and open my mouth. I did.

She suddenly had in hand a large curved needle with red yarn trailing from it. She stuck my teeth back in -- there was a faint pop! -- and then sewed them to the gums. It hurt a lot.

I started to go, but there was a mirror by the door. I couldn't resist looking at my mouth. I pulled up my upper lip and saw that my teeth were all there, and there was no sign of the mending. I wiggled one of my canines experimentally to find it as solid as it usually is.

When I walked out the door, I was in a carnival. Not a very good one, sort of like the one that occasionally sets up in the parking lot of the out-of-business Ernst hardware store. The rides were unappealing, and there was neither a Tilt-a-Whirl or a Scrambler, so I didn't have a hard time resisting them.

I walked through the carnival and found that I was in the parking lot in front of the out-of-business Ernst. And parked with the other cars was my Bug. Huh.