I can be thankful that 2012 didn’t begin with a drinking dream. But the dream wasn’t too far away.
Among a lot of other random things I dreamt last night (including being at school and at work in my underwear) I went home early and started drinking, assured that no one would know. As I surreptitiously snuck the half empty bottle of wine out of the refrigerator (an old one at that – like one that had been left out overnight and then re-chilled – almost no alcohol in it, just the nauseating taste of bad grape juice), I was caught with a few glances and headed to the bathroom.
Know they (I think it was Mom and Dad) saw me and would come looking for my used bottle, I opened the toilet tank and stashed it there.
Now – to be clear – I never did that. But I guess with almost a year of nothing but drinking dreams, my subconscious is running out of places to hide the bottles.
I heard once that we should just “enjoy” drinking dreams – that they are “freebies.” But my dreams have no enjoyment in them at all. In fact there is never, ever, any actual drinking. They all being with me coming out of a blackout, or waking up and realizing that I’ve once again blown my sobriety. And then I have to get more alcohol, or start to hide it.
So even though I can’t enjoy them, I can be extremely grateful for them. This one alone made me remember:
- the demoralization of coming out of another blackout or “waking up;”
- the horrible taste and smell of old, long opened wine I used to guzzle just because I could “waste” it by pouring it out (like any normal person would do)
- the shame and guilt and sneaking around – the lies and the powerlessness over that.
Thank you HP, friends, family and program that I don’t have to go through that ever again.
