Toe-Day

This morning, I overslept. This, after a dream a novelist was sucking my toes. It is hard to get out of bed, after such a thing attacks your unconscious.

My toe has figured heavily in my dreams. Four months ago, during a quite intense session of Capoeira, a well-proportioned man of Brazilian descent stepped on the end of my big toenail with such ire and speed that it popped off out of excitment.

My toe has been bandaged since March. The nail has almost completely grown back, but only now has it begun to manifests itself as a symbol of anxiety in my dreams, replacing falling teeth and violent blackbirds.

Two nights ago, the bandage was picked off with tweezers by a masked doctor. Important men in important suits stood round, all white hair and balding, hands clasped behind their back importantly...as if cuffed.

Gasps and murmurs.

Where my toenail should be, floated the galaxy, the milky way and all its parts; fireworks frozen and rolling cloud-like. At first, I thought 2001 Space Odyssey was being played on a tiny cuticle television and I asked for the remote.

Toenails are oddly absent from creation myths. They seem to to have little archetypal value, unlike teeth or hair. Some dream interpretation websites seem to think they signify protection. This could be true. I feel unsafe, I never feel safe. An actor would say I feel safe up here, and point to his/her head, but not down here, and point to his/her belly. When I am with a man, as I am now, I feel like a victim.

Perhaps sticking the universe in my shield helps me feel controlled, destined, and fuelled by a guiding hand.

Not that I believe any of that mess, but what else am I going to do with all this living time except speculate.