Broken teeth and the silent Party: A Dream of fragmentation

"I was just standing in my kitchen, or a kitchen, and I bit down on absolutely nothing—like my jaw just clenched on its own-and I heard this crack, this horrible dry snap that I felt in my skull. I knew immediately. Ran my tongue over my molars and one of them had this huge jagged chunk missing, and there were sharp edges cutting my tongue. I kept tonguing it, feeling the broken edge over and over, and every time I did, another piece would crack off. Just crumbles. I was spitting fragments into my hand and they were bigger than teeth should be, and I remember thinking "this can't all be teeth, there's too much of it." But I kept collecting them like if I could just hold all the pieces together, a dentist could fix it. Then I was at some party, still holding my teeth in a napkin, and everyone was talking and laughing and I couldn't open my mouth to talk because I was worried the rest would fall out. So I just stood there nodding at people, smiling with my lips sealed, and this one guy kept asking me questions and I kept giving thumbs up and he was getting visibly annoyed, and I wanted to explain but explaining required opening my mouth. I kept trying to find a bathroom to look in a mirror but every door I opened was a closet or a staircase or, once, a parking garage. Classic dream architecture. By the end I was just wandering through this endless house, mouth full of tooth shards I was too scared to spit out or swallow, napkin in my fist, getting more and more desperate for a mirror. Woke up grinding my teeth so hard my jaw ached. My dentist would have a field day with this one. I've been clenching my jaw all week without realizing it, so apparently my subconscious decided to make a whole production out of it."