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I keep having that dream where my teeth are falling out. They grind against each other like marbles in a bag until they spill out and rattle through a grate in the floor. It terrifies me, knowing so many people share this dream. One night, when the dream comes, I try to take control. THIS ISN'T REAL, I tell myself. IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD. I place one hand over my mouth to hold my teeth in place and lift the grate with the other. I force myself to climb in and follow the shaft down through twists and turns, my feet kicking scattered teeth as I go. I reach an exit overlooking a massive pit filled with thousands of teeth fallen from hundreds of identical vents. At its centre sits a naked man who plucks one from the pile with long, thin fingers and places it between his incisors. They close with a hard-candy crunch. Looking up, he catches my eye. "You’re not supposed to be here," he says, pointing a finger at me. Then he starts to cackle, high and shrill. "It’s all in your head! All in your head!" I move my hand from my mouth to scream and my teeth fall into my palm. I wake up shaking, my tongue running over the unfamiliar gap of a missing molar. I frantically search the dark bed for it, but I already know it’s not here. In my mind I see the pit, the man, all those vents, all the dreamers feeding him. All those teeth. All in our heads.
Short story written by Peter Chiykowski
website twitter facebook instagramStory prompt taken from a photo by AJ Colores
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