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Dream of looking in a mirror and two teeth falling out, told at the Everyday Creativity Conference, University of Brighton, 13th June 2022.

6/16/2022

2 Comments

 
Picture
I am in the bathroom of my family home in India, looking at myself in the large mirror. Two of my teeth, one is an implant, start to shake and then fall out. The blood stains the blue dress that I am wearing. I panic and the room starts to have a tinge of black and red. I tell myself that it is just a dream, and close my eyes and spin, but I can’t wake up. I am then in the bathroom of where I live in the UK, it has a white shower curtain with blue houses on. I look in the small bathroom mirror. I realise that it is not a dream. I am in pain and try to phone the hospital for a dentist, but realise that I cannot get one. 
 
In the discussion the dream-sharer told us how this dream, or nightmare, occurs when she is stressed, and that it refers to a childhood accident. 
 
Julia chose the page for painting on as it had two equal-sized paragraphs and a white space between them, which she used to depict the mirror and the real and reflected spaces either side of it.  
There are found words or phrases on the painting.  
In reference to the shaking of the teeth as they fall out: 
owing to the slackening 
slackening 
 
And, in reference to the whole dream: 
allowed to speak  
undesired condition          
 
On the right-hand side of the mirror the index finger wiggling the tooth:
now come
 
And the following emergent found poetry.
On the left-hand side of the mirror the index finger wiggling the tooth and down the arm:
evoke
which is otherwise
freely
violent resistance,
surface.
 
From which Julia created the poem about losing the teeth:       
Now come!
Evoke the surface freely,
which is otherwise
violent resistance.
 
 
And above the head, in the shower curtain, on the right-hand side of the mirror:
undesired
retain
the state of
‘desired’ ones.
 
From which Julia create the Haiku about the lost teeth:       
The undesired
retain the state of being
the ‘desired’ ones.
2 Comments
tophatters.co link
3/31/2026 01:58:45 pm

This piece feels less like a description of a dream and more like an exploration of how memory, fear, and the body intersect.

The imagery is striking — especially the transition between spaces. Moving from a childhood home in India to a present-day bathroom in the UK creates this unsettling continuity, as if the past isn’t something left behind but something that follows, reshapes itself, and reappears. The mirror becomes more than a reflection — it’s a threshold between versions of self, time, and place.

What stands out most is how the physical experience of the dream (the teeth, the blood, the pain) carries emotional weight that isn’t fully spoken but deeply felt. Teeth falling out is such a common anxiety dream, but here it’s clearly rooted in something specific, something remembered. That makes it feel more personal and less symbolic in a generic sense.

The creative response to the dream is just as compelling. Using found text and structure to mirror the dream itself — dividing space, repeating phrases like “slackening,” and building meaning from fragments — feels very true to how dreams operate. They don’t follow clean narratives; they layer sensations and associations.

The poem that emerges from it all has a kind of tension to it. Lines like “evoke the surface freely / which is otherwise / violent resistance” suggest something trying to come through — something held back, then briefly released.

And that final haiku reframes everything in such a quiet, haunting way. The idea that the “undesired” might still hold the state of the “desired” lingers. It feels like a reflection not just on the dream, but on how we relate to parts of ourselves we struggle to accept.

This is a fascinating blend of dream, memory, and artistic interpretation — the kind that stays with you long after reading.

Reply
joyfulpink.com link
3/31/2026 01:59:16 pm

This reads like a moment where a dream stops being just a dream and becomes something much more revealing.

The shift between the two bathrooms is especially striking. It’s not just a change of setting — it feels like a merging of past and present, where something unresolved carries across time and place. The mirror sits right at the center of that, almost acting as a divide between what is remembered and what is being experienced now.

The physical sensation described — the looseness, the falling, the inability to fix it — creates such a strong sense of helplessness. It’s the kind of feeling that lingers even after waking, and it makes sense that it’s tied to stress and memory. There’s something about the body in dreams that communicates what words don’t always reach.

What I find particularly interesting is how the creative response doesn’t try to “explain” the dream, but instead mirrors its fragmentation. The repeated phrases, the spacing, the use of found language — it all feels like an extension of the dream logic rather than a translation of it.

The line “Now come! Evoke the surface freely…” feels almost like a turning point — as if something buried is being pushed outward, even if it comes with resistance. There’s tension there, but also movement.

And the haiku at the end adds a quiet layer of reflection that contrasts with the intensity of the dream. It almost suggests that what we reject or fear still holds meaning, still belongs in some way.

Altogether, this feels like a thoughtful exploration of how dreams, memory, and creative practice can intersect — not to give clear answers, but to make space for what’s harder to articulate.

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