Crumbling teeth in grandma's school: Repressed shame and control

"So I was back in my old middle school, except the hallways were somehow also my grandma's living room, which made sense at the time. I was trying to get to a class I was already late for, but I couldn't remember which class or why I cared. Then my front tooth just... wobbled. I touched it with my tongue and it came loose, so I held it in my palm and thought, "This is fine, this happens sometimes," which obviously it doesn't. Then more of them started going. Not falling out dramatically-just quietly crumbling, like chalk. I was spitting pieces into my hands and my hands were getting full. A teacher I didn't recognize walked past and I tried to ask for help but my mouth wouldn't work right, all mushy and wrong, and she just handed me a napkin like that was the obvious solution. I remember being more embarrassed than scared. Like my biggest concern was that people would see my mouth. I kept thinking I needed to hide it until I got home, but then I realized I didn't know where home was, and somehow that mattered less than the teeth. The last thing I remember is looking in a mirror that wasn't there a second ago, and I had maybe three teeth left, and I felt this weird relief? Like okay, at least it's almost over. Then I woke up and ran my tongue over my teeth like five times to make sure. "