My Vampiric Dentist

When I was a child, I remember dreaming that my dentist was a vampire. It wasn't all that much of a stretch. Clearly, he already had a certain sadistic mannerism- why else would he be in a profession intent only on causing pain? And that look of concern when he explained the proper way to brush and avoid cavities? He was totally faking it. I thought that maybe all dental schools had required acting courses, so that future dentists could learn expressions of false sympathy. "Everybody all together now! Let's see your most sincere 'remember to floss' face!"

Who was he kidding, anyhow? His entire livelihood depended on kids like me who crammed candy into their mouths 24/7, then only did that once-a-day halfhearted make-mom-happy brushing.

So anyhow, in the dream I had this massive grand canyon of a cavity - the kind that seemed to be a miniature black hole in my mouth. It was kind of cool, really, I assured my parents. There was no need to take me to get it fixed. They drug me in to see the dentist, anyhow. The waiting line was impossibly long, and Musak was playing over the speakers - something like the instrumental version of Barry Manilow's Coppa Cabana . It was chock full of people with snaggle toothed smiles, all looking happy to be there. I was amusing myself by throwing magazines from the waiting room table into my cavernous cavity. My mother smacked me, told me to stop it and get the hell in there because it was my turn.

I went on in and sat down in the chair. The hygienist put that paper bib around my neck, and the spit-sucker in my mouth. She was real pretty and smiling at me, so I was distracted from my troubles for a while. Then Dr. Fienstien breezed in, pale and malevolent, a Dracula-style cape on his shoulders and a dental pick in hand. His eyebrows pointed villainously down, and his wire-rimmed glasses were perched at a disturbingly rakish angle. His white, straight teeth (elongated canines and all) gleamed in the brightness of the overhead light. I tried to scream, but the spit-sucker had made my mouth too dry.

"I varned you," Dr. Fiencula lisped in classic Transylvania style, "to blush your teeth. And now, it is too late....muahhaha!"

The dream ended before he could fatally fang me or anything, but I woke up in a cold sweat. I immediately jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to brush my teeth like I had never brushed before. Then for good measure, I rinsed with mouthwash then flossed.

Dentist visits still make me pretty uneasy. I'm not entirely comfortable with a profession that's making money from my discomfort. And yes, when my dentist smiles that too-perfect, super-shiny, insincerely sympathetic smile - I do check his canines very carefully.