Teeth-gnashing dreams.

I have recurring dreams in which my bottom teeth are stuck in an underbite, firmly against my top front teeth. In my dream, I am trying to get my bottom teeth/jaw out from in front of my top teeth. Generally, this results in my teeth shattering into vertical shards, because I keep trying to just pull in my lower jaw instead of opening my mouth first. From time to time my conscious self is able to tell my sleeping self to open my mouth and gently readjust my jaw - however, in my dream, I am never able to actually open my mouth more than a few centimeters. I have this dream several times a month, and I had it twice last week. It's an agonizing, painful, splintering, shattering dream, and I hate it.

Yesterday, after several hours of helping someone else haul heavy furniture and boxes out of one apartment, into the truck, out of the truck, and into the new apartment, four of us were sitting on the porch taking a break. My lower back was starting to throb, so I sprawled flat on my back on the wooden floor of the porch, limbs splayed out at every angle. The weather was lazy weather - sunny, hot, oppressively humid - and it had started to take its toll on our energy after several hours of moving. Just taking a breath was enough to start sweating. My muscles were starting to feel sore, which was a good feeling after several days of not working out, but not a good feeling when faced with the remainder of the boxes and furniture. Our sleepy conversation included pedicures, massages, and Christina Aguilera before turning to dentists. At that point, I shared with my fellow movers the recurring teeth-shattering dream, and that I'd even had the dream twice that week. One friend recommended a mouth guard for sleeping. The other friend, the subject of the move, shed some light on the situation. "When you dream about your teeth falling out, or grinding your teeth, or breaking them, those are anxiety dreams. It means you're stressed out."

I have arrived in FallTown. I moved my things into my new apartment on Saturday, although I haven't actually lived there yet because the room is still being occupied. I've been staying with my dear friend from college and that's worked out well thus far. He helped me move on Saturday, then we moved his friend all day yesterday, and the weather couldn't be worse. It's hot, sticky, gross, and unrelenting.

Mr. Maybe has been frustrating. He called me last Wed, but I missed his call. I intended to return his call on Thurs but received an email from him, stating that his car had been broken into and his cell phone stolen. So I emailed him a nice email about what I was up to, and a couple of specific questions about how he was doing. Of course, no response. I had stopped making attempts to contact him, then he decided to contact me, and then he went back to refusing to respond. It really made me angry. I sent him a short, civil text msg on Saturday night and he responded. He told me that he missed me and then called me a pet name. Out of nowhere. The pet name caused me to raise an eyebrow, as I have no idea what prompted such a pet name, but the sentiment was very much welcome. It at least made me feel as though his utter lack of communication is not because he never really liked me to begin with. It was affecting me very personally - it made me feel like he was just never very interested, and that all of the wonderful and thoughtful things he did and said were all a crock. I suppose it's a guy thing, out of sight out of mind. It appears as though he'll contact me when he's bored enough. Great. I just know better than to expect any sort of response from him. But at least he's being sincere.

I've sent out my resume to about ten very competitive public defenders. Cross your fingers. One was sent a week ago, and I've yet to hear a response. The other nine were sent on Saturday. I'm terrified that I'll be unemployed.

I was in HomeTown last week. Just about every one of my friends is either married and owns a home, married with children and owns several homes, or in a long-term relationship, thinking about marrying and owning homes. Enter single, unsettled female who is in the process of moving for the third time in three months, whose debt is the equivalent of a mortgage for a very nice house, who is not currently dating anyone, and who has no visible job prospects. Nothing like a friendly BBQ to yank out the deepest of forgotten insecurities. During a pleasant lunch with one close friend, she asked if I'd heard from College Ex-Boyfriend in recent months. It caught me off guard a bit, as I rarely think about College Ex anymore, except when he appears in my dreams as Mr. Maybe from this summer (odd, but I never gave it a second thought). So, at last week's BBQ, I asked a mutual friend how College Ex was doing. Apparently he fell head over heels in love with a beautiful young Japanese woman while on a business trip some years ago (I vaguely remember hearing about this years ago) and is in the course of arranging to be married to her (immigration paperwork and such). Friend confirms that she is, indeed, drop-dead gorgeous.

Unexpectedly and inexplicably, this information causes my stomach and chest to compress to the size of a pea, which does not prevent me from gulping down three more beers. The pressure in my head and chest did not subside, and in fact persisted for several more days. I started to believe that without being Selma Hayek or a flawless Asian beauty, I am doomed to lead a life of superficial and short-lived relationships that, in retrospect, must have meant nothing at all, as it must be likely that anyone crazy enough to date me must have just been biding his time for Selma. Add this information with aforementioned marriage / property ownership / child-bearing tidal waves crashing around my ears. At that moment, I confirmed that I had stepped into some alternate universe in which I absolutely do not fit in anywhere.

Mr. Maybe, unemployment, self-doubt, debt of a third world country, living out of my car. If a mouth guard can solve this, then I'll take two.