One of several recurring nightmares revolves around a tooth (or teeth) rotting itself out inside my mouth. This was one of those. Throughout the sequences something felt not quite right with my mouth. A little too dry in spots. A little too sharp. A little too loose. I couldn’t pin it down. As the sequences moved along (mostly they were very ordinary vignettes) it became clear to me. The too dry, too sharp, too loose feeling was one of my teeth. It had died and was rotting out. I probed it with my tongue and it hinged away like a child’s loose tooth. It hadn’t quite come out just yet. I tried clenching my jaw, biting down to re-set it. This would work for a few moments at most. The sequences moved along as I experimented with duration and intensity. I was transported to a dojo that had been made out of an old warehouse. It looked like Buzz with the lights on. Alexi was there. The tooth’s last root finally gave out and I reached in to retrieve it. Alexi was aghast. Once out of my mouth, the molar tripled in size. We had an appointment but the tooth required immediate attention. It was going to be weird with that hole in my row of teeth. Alexi asked in earnest: “Isn’t that the tooth you always start on?” He meant when I brush. Don’t I always start on the right bottom molar? I do.