.. vim: set syntax=rst nosmartindent spell spelllang=en_us: I went to the dentist today. ============================ Brian was indifferent when I told him. -------------------------------------- I told Brian last week how I was taking the morning off because I had a dentist appointment. He was indifferent. Maybe it would have been weird if he knew how big of a deal it was a big deal for me though. Growing up I went to the dentist once. It was a clinic. I remember how the guy said I had a tooth that needed to come out and he pulled it that day. It hurt like hell coming out. And I blamed myself for it. I remind myself when I get into the elevator, going up to the 21st floor, how as far as they all know, I'm normal, so I need to act like it. And going to the dentist is not something that normal people get excited about. Because normal people go to the dentist. Normal people have retirement accounts and savings plans. The pain went from minor to intense to beyond what I could handle. And then I wasn't at the dentist any more. Or, I was physically, but I was also somewhere else. And I was sitting on the ground. Next to a younger version of myself. We argued a lot. Then my perspective flipped, and I was young again, looking at me now. But then I realized the dentist was asking me a question. --------------------------------------------------------- He asked something about my comfort level. I didn't understand him at first. I opened my eyes and I realized they were full of tears. Everything was blurry. The lights in the room were brighter than I remember, too. He said something again. I think he said, "How are you doing? How's the comfort level?" It seemed so euphemistic. This guy was causing me so much pain I was floating in and out of an altered state. I had to think about what words to say. After a moment, I said, "this is too much." I had my eyes closed tight. I heard the dentist say something like "Too much, huh? Well I can adjust the gas." And then I was back in the dream. He said something like "you needed me... It was either let me take the lead, or what... Suicide? What other options did you think were available? Have you forgotten how we felt? "Before me, we were still wondering if the church was right, and angels and demons were all around! "Have you really forgotten? Remember the time the bat landed on your window and you were convinced it was some kind of spiritual message? We couldn't figure out what to trust... the church or the fact that every science book said something different! "Or how you were so convinced of your own awful sinful nature? "You, you, me, us... we, ... that kid... whatever. Remember crying and apologizing all those nights in prayer? That wasn't fucking healthy! That was just a stupid kid, but that guilt and shame got inside and ate everything up! "If it wasn't for me, we'd be having this conversation in an asylum. You needed me then. And you need me now, too. You're disciplined, but you're fucking dead inside. This is the exact fucking thing we said could never happen, but here it is. You working really hard but you have nothing you're working toward, other than what you think the people around you want you to do... but, here's the truth... nobody even cares about your sacrifice! I saw him jumping around, then put his fists up to his head, and scream, "you know it deep down, there's still no such thing as god! So all the shit they tell you in those meetings, or during treatment, you know it's all lies. Lies or maybe mass hysteria. "It is not what they say it is, for sure! So even if it works, it's still a fucking a deception. Somebody had to have made it up. Is that what you want? You want to spend the rest of your life servicing, praying to, worshipping a fucking illusion? You say you're listening, but who are you ever gonna hear? In my haze, I shouted "I know!" just to shut him up. I couldn't handle everything he was saying. It was all true. Then my awareness returned to the dental office. ------------------------------------------------ I remember realizing I was squeezing my eyes shut as hard as I could, and slowly I relaxed them, and then I saw through very blurry eyes, the bright lights above. I realized I was still in the dentist's office. I could taste blood in my mouth. I felt soreness all over my mouth. The dentist was still working. He started scraping again and I winced and groaned. I decided to keep my eyes open so that I wouldn't lapse back into that weird hallucination. Then I just started thinking about what that version of me had said. I thought about how he looked. He was older than I was when I got arrested and then went to treatment. At this point, the dentist was scraping deep in the pockets between my tooth and gum and it hurt like hell. Like I was nearly to the point of pushing him away. I was wincing so bad I was wondering if I was going to push the dentist away from me when I realized in my dream, it wasn't a young me from before I got arrested. It was instead me now, but if I hadn't gotten caught. He's me from the universe where something else happened. I imagined a hundred possible other things. Like maybe I didn't bring the acid back to my dorm. Maybe I sold it over the weekend, or gave it to a friend to keep. And they would have raided, but found nothing. I still maybe would have gotten expelled, but so what? No felony charge. All this flashed through my mind while I started at the receptacles for the bright lights in the ceiling. The pain kept getting worse. it reached a point where I almost involuntarily closed my eyes. I didn't flash back to the weird alley again. I still felt the pain. I groaned again. The dentist said, "Oh sorry, how is the comfort level now?" and he took the tool out of my mouth. Get this -- this is the truth. He said he had the gas all the way up, but then he looked at the tank. And I could tell something was wrong and I could tell he was trying not to act like it was a big deal, but it really was a big deal. I said, "the tank's empty, isn't it?" I didn't know if I should be getting angry or if I should think this was all a funny story. But I was just so glad that he wasn't cleaning. He said "It must have just run out, because I checked it before we started, and this dial said we had adequate pressure. This cleaning is taking longer than expected." He asked if I needed the gas. I wondered how he could ask that. Hadn't he seen me grimacing, and gripping the hell out of the arm rests, and kicking my feet? This was a fucking torture session. I told him "yeah, I need the gas." I imagined he would have to drag away this tank and do a bunch of work. But then I watched him fiddle with tubes for like five seconds, and then he said the gas would start flowing again into my nose piece. I started breathing extra deep through my nose on purpose. Why was this dentist such an indifferent fuck? It was like no work at all for him to switch out the tanks. Why didn't he just do it automatically, rather than ask me? Does he not care if he causes this much pain to people? I remember inhaling deeply and then feeling the nitrous wave hit me. I did love this feeling. I started thinking about the alley. I wanted to try to figure out where it was. I remembered finally. It wasn't an alley. It was the side of the gas station where we bought cigarettes when we were younger, and then later, we bought booze there too. That was the place that had the special deal of two bottles of malt liquor a pack of cigarettes for like $5. Was that actually a special, or was that just the price of those three things? Did I tell them to make it into a special? Then the other version of me returned and said "yes, you made that up, but the manager liked it, and that's how the special got started. Remember, we had all those different names for it, like poet on payday, or debauchery discount, or the white rapper starter kit, or whatever." This was a memory that I completely lost. That gas station. I went there for cigarettes and I'd be high and I'd talk the guy that worked there. I'd ask him crazy questions, like what would be a good life, or how can there be so many religions and they all think they're the right one. And I think if anybody else would have tried it, it would have come off like they were fucking with him, but that dude knew I was on the level. Omar! That was his name! Yeah, Omar had a respectable view of the world. He got up, went to work, sent money home to his family. I remember now how I pointed out how they had that hot dog and coke special, but they could do a lot more, like give people half off of a drink if they buy gas, because once people come into the store, they grab a bunch of junk that they don't need. And sure enough, Omar tried it out, and it worked. And that's what led to the $5 two quarts of beer or two forty ounce bottles of malt liquor and a pack of smokes. While I sat in the dental chair I grinned thinking about that whole thing. Then I heard just the voice of the other me again. He said "yeah, see? we're the same... I was just more bold about it." Then he said something like how he wasn't gonna tell me what to do with my life. That's the whole thing, remember, he wasn't gonna make up the bullshit lie that the preachers and counselors and sponsors all say. They all say they know what's best, because god told them, and I ought to trust them. And guess what, I need to give them my money and time, too. No! This other me wasn't gonna do the same thing. Wasn't gonna cross through different versions of reality to try to convert me to his way. He said something like, "let's just agree we deserve better than this."