I had my first “drinking dream” last night. It was only a brief flash during what felt like an epic dream. I was sitting at an outside table at a bar, in a foreign climate, opposite my husband. I think we were younger, and we were talking ten to the dozen. I distractedly opened a bottle of craft beer, poured it into an ice cold glass and downed it. And then remembered that I don’t drink. I was devastated – what an utter nobber! I felt as if I’d ruined everything, and the bottom fell out of my stomach…
Anyway, the dream flitted swiftly on to other strange events, and the drink was forgotten and lost. When I woke up I remembered – and I suddenly realised just how important it is for me to stay sober.
I wonder if alcohol will continue to pop up in my dreams for the rest of my days, rather like people who are long lost to me still occasionally appear at random? Like a grieving process, where you wake up sad, and remember, and then let go again.
I’m really rather pleased though, I feel like I’ve passed a little test which my brain set for me. Drinking in the dream hasn’t left me racing to the nearest bottleshop, slavering and burbling like Slimer in Ghostbusters. (The resemblance would be uncanny). Instead, if anything, it’s strengthened my resolve.
Day 12. I’m now two days past my previous count before the NYE debacle. And nearly half way to my previous record. Bring it on!