I had forgotten how long I had been gone. It seemed a lifetime since he had captured me. But I finally had won favor in his eyes and he was going to let me go to the dentist to fix my teeth he had drilled for one of his sadistic movies. He drilled down each tooth as though they were going to be capped, my mouth held wide opened with a mouth prop, my limbs tied to his table, as his camera rolled.
The pain was searing, my heart was pounding. If my moaning and tears, the wild snorting through my nose wasn't dramatic enough, he would raise the drill from my teeth and point it at my eye or the side of my head. And then I would begin anew, the tears flowing to my ears which were already filled and being so disappointed that God didn't answer my prayer and take me now.
But now he was happy with me. He bathed me and dressed me and was taking me to a dentist. I was going to get new teeth.
And then the dream sort of faded away and returned to a new scene, the dentist coming to the house with a box of porcelain overlays.
And then the dream faded away and I had escaped, with the little box filled with new teeth. And I came across a man and began a fight with him. Someone called 911. The police arrived. My face was bloody. I told them he had beaten me up because I ran from his home. I then smiled and the look of shock was clearly written on their faces. The man was handcuffed.
The police called for an ambulance, but I convinced them I needed to get home, to grab some clothes, my ID, and money so I could escape this man. I promised I would go to the hospital. I took their business card. Thankfully the car had GPS, and I was able to find the man's home. I rummaged his house for money and jewelry, anything I could pawn.
And then I drove towards my freedom, the little box of teeth on the passenger side.
And then I woke up.