One of the side effects of the medication I take is that I have incredibly vivid and detailed dreams. I’m not talking about sex dreams (although those are pretty great too). I’m talking about the crazy-ass elephants that dance in my head ALL NIGHT LONG. And leave rainbow footprints behind in my brain.

Recently I had a dream about my good friend, Elly Lonon. In this one, I was making coffee for myself in the morning. I should note that when I recounted this part to my husband, he laughed uproariously—because he is the only person who makes coffee in this house.

Anyhow, back to the dream. Before I put the ground coffee into the filter, I poured in A BAG OF ELLY’S TEETH. That I just happened to have with me. Elly wasn’t there with me, just her teeth. I had them. In a burlap sack.

Don’t fret—these weren’t the teeth from her actual mouth. She could still chew and shit. I know that because, well, that’s what I do. I dream, and I know things. I mean, I guess they were from her mouth because they were HER teeth, and teeth come from a mouth. But she still had teeth in her mouth so perhaps she grew a second set of teeth? I know we all do that when we lose our baby teeth, but these weren’t her baby teeth I was brewing—these were her adult teeth. But she still had teeth in her mouth so it’s not like I took the teeth out of her mouth like a crazy psychopath. Are you following me?

I didn’t actually extract the teeth from her mouth myself. She gave them to me. In a burlap sack. Maybe she’s a mutant shark woman?

This is about the point when I was recounting the dream where my husband stopped laughing and told me I probably shouldn’t tell anyone this story because they’ll all think I’m a fucking lunatic.

I swear I’m not. It was a pleasant dream. With delicious coffee. And losing your teeth is supposed to be good luck, right? So I was just brewing a cup of good luck, right?

It just so happened that Elly’s teeth made the coffee even more delicious. I’d like to think that it’s because I want to drink up all of Elly’s words, and that everything she says and writes is magical—just like my steaming morning elixir. And that it’s not because I’ve got cannibalistic tendencies or am a serial killer or anything bat-shit crazy like that.

Yeah. I’m totally going with the IMBIBING HER WRITING part. Work with me, people.

What do you think the dream means? And/or, what’s the craziest dream you’ve had lately?

Photo Credit: brostock / 123RF Stock Photo

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