October 30th, 2011 at 11:54PM
As usual I was fighting an invisible opponent. I told my friends about them, for all i knew my friends could’ve been conspirators with the bastards. I was confused, on my phone asking people where they were while i was telling them i was already there. Maybe that’s the type of thinking that got my legs tangled in the first place. It was a good night, all some of my closest friends, we had an appropriate amount of liquor. Somewhere along the line I forget being alive for the most part. And before you know it i’m waking up from a blank sleep still drunk first thing in the morning, rushing to the car, disoriented as fuck. Being only suspicious that maybe I didn’t have every part of my teeth but didn’t ask anyone because its a recurring bad dream of mine to be losing them. Overly conscious, didn’t want to scare anyone with evidence of possible delusion…feared the answer myself. I kept quiet during the car ride, i said a few words, and certain syllables would introduce my tongue to the grated bone. Luckily I didn’t look in the mirror to see i looked like rudolph the red nosed hitler blood mustache man. I was shaking uncontrollably, shivering like, still feeling the concussion. I was like an animal, not able to reach a conclusion about it, just adapting to what was wrong and feeling this blinding fear that ironically burst my eyes so open. It finally hit me when i got home that maybe that wasn’t a bad dream, I got to crying and i walked upstairs to my mom. I asked her what had happened to my face. I figured it was kind of real now. She was crying by looking at me. I talked to my dad on the phone he scolded me a bit. I freaked out for a long time.  My memory of the event is in slices, I remember particular sensations but not the action or thought procress itself. I remember the electroshock of the trauma to my head, the feeling sensation of the concrete sloshing around in my mouth, mixed with teeth fragment. I remember laying there thinking i was having a bad dream. There was a flash before it, I figure i must have passed out while standing and then dead weighted face first into the curb stomp. My friends say they found me face down on the ground. Thank god they were there to scoop me up and find me down to lay somewhere. This is all very eerily reminiscent of something that happened to my mother while drinking. She had been paralyzed in half her body for almost a year. So I guess i’m lucky, but the fact is this really fucked with me. I’m looking in the mirror at myself and seeing the asymmetry. How inhuman it is. Demonic, the symbolism is bogging me down. The neglect of self that a missing tooth represents, the ignorance. The lack of appreciation for life that it helps to assume. Everything about the image is cold and demonic and that’s my face, my smile. I’m reminded of my own ignorant negligence each time I speak now, each time i attempt to enjoy food, each time I project my smile onto someone else who’s probably thinking GOD DAMN SNAGGLETOOTH EASY DOES IT. Lol idk there is a part of me that can laugh about this already…for sure…due in part to my sick sense of humor. Or what I like to think of as an overly robust one. I’m just really worried this shit is going to develop into a bottomless insecurity because of all the momentum this has gained through all the nightmares i’ve had about it. And the surreal experience of waking up, and it gradually becoming realized into truth. So many days i’ve woken up to the heavenly relief that what I had just experienced, the shattering of my symbolic identity…was only a dream. Now that that relief is absent I simply feel as if i’ve yet to awaken. My whole reality is distorted, and this injury to my identity has forced a heavy disassociation.  Perhaps this storm is to be regarded as a confrontation with my symbolic as well as potentially actual feelings of hatred towards my own identity. That is what I understood as being the meaning of the dreams, as is the feeling I am overwhelmed with now in the context of this reality. And possibly, could be the reason i drank that much in the first place. Where does this hatred manifest, and how strong does it? I’m not sure. I can’t place the blame on the drinking or the atmosphere because both on a regular night would’ve been fine. I was my homeboys, everything was positive, I didn’t intend to drink and frankly i probably forgot how much I had along the way. That is the nature of the substance. In any event, it is necessary that i confront the feelings I am forced to at this point before progress is made. Its really disturbing when dreams become real. 

As usual I was fighting an invisible opponent. I told my friends about them, for all i knew my friends could’ve been conspirators with the bastards. I was confused, on my phone asking people where they were while i was telling them i was already there. Maybe that’s the type of thinking that got my legs tangled in the first place.

It was a good night, all some of my closest friends, we had an appropriate amount of liquor. Somewhere along the line I forget being alive for the most part. And before you know it i’m waking up from a blank sleep still drunk first thing in the morning, rushing to the car, disoriented as fuck. Being only suspicious that maybe I didn’t have every part of my teeth but didn’t ask anyone because its a recurring bad dream of mine to be losing them. Overly conscious, didn’t want to scare anyone with evidence of possible delusion…feared the answer myself. I kept quiet during the car ride, i said a few words, and certain syllables would introduce my tongue to the grated bone. Luckily I didn’t look in the mirror to see i looked like rudolph the red nosed hitler blood mustache man. I was shaking uncontrollably, shivering like, still feeling the concussion. I was like an animal, not able to reach a conclusion about it, just adapting to what was wrong and feeling this blinding fear that ironically burst my eyes so open. It finally hit me when i got home that maybe that wasn’t a bad dream, I got to crying and i walked upstairs to my mom. I asked her what had happened to my face. I figured it was kind of real now. She was crying by looking at me. I talked to my dad on the phone he scolded me a bit. I freaked out for a long time. 

My memory of the event is in slices, I remember particular sensations but not the action or thought procress itself. I remember the electroshock of the trauma to my head, the feeling sensation of the concrete sloshing around in my mouth, mixed with teeth fragment. I remember laying there thinking i was having a bad dream. There was a flash before it, I figure i must have passed out while standing and then dead weighted face first into the curb stomp. My friends say they found me face down on the ground. Thank god they were there to scoop me up and find me down to lay somewhere. This is all very eerily reminiscent of something that happened to my mother while drinking. She had been paralyzed in half her body for almost a year. So I guess i’m lucky, but the fact is this really fucked with me. I’m looking in the mirror at myself and seeing the asymmetry. How inhuman it is. Demonic, the symbolism is bogging me down. The neglect of self that a missing tooth represents, the ignorance. The lack of appreciation for life that it helps to assume. Everything about the image is cold and demonic and that’s my face, my smile. I’m reminded of my own ignorant negligence each time I speak now, each time i attempt to enjoy food, each time I project my smile onto someone else who’s probably thinking GOD DAMN SNAGGLETOOTH EASY DOES IT. Lol idk there is a part of me that can laugh about this already…for sure…due in part to my sick sense of humor. Or what I like to think of as an overly robust one. I’m just really worried this shit is going to develop into a bottomless insecurity because of all the momentum this has gained through all the nightmares i’ve had about it. And the surreal experience of waking up, and it gradually becoming realized into truth. So many days i’ve woken up to the heavenly relief that what I had just experienced, the shattering of my symbolic identity…was only a dream. Now that that relief is absent I simply feel as if i’ve yet to awaken. My whole reality is distorted, and this injury to my identity has forced a heavy disassociation. 

Perhaps this storm is to be regarded as a confrontation with my symbolic as well as potentially actual feelings of hatred towards my own identity. That is what I understood as being the meaning of the dreams, as is the feeling I am overwhelmed with now in the context of this reality. And possibly, could be the reason i drank that much in the first place. Where does this hatred manifest, and how strong does it? I’m not sure. I can’t place the blame on the drinking or the atmosphere because both on a regular night would’ve been fine. I was my homeboys, everything was positive, I didn’t intend to drink and frankly i probably forgot how much I had along the way. That is the nature of the substance. In any event, it is necessary that i confront the feelings I am forced to at this point before progress is made. Its really disturbing when dreams become real. 

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