Reports from the Bunker

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Dreams and Nightmares

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Kim had a dream last night that I was taking pills and stumbling into cop cars, perhaps it was really a window into my past, the entire description of the event sounded plausibly like something that may have happened to me in my former life.  I had strange dreams last night too, one was horrifying and still lingers.  My biggest fear was realized in it.

I was at someone’s house, a man, older and we were meeting in person it seems for the first time. I do not recall what I was doing there; I know I was writing poetry again and there were piles and piles of dusty books in this library at the mans house. There was also an upright piano and some other instruments. He had to excuse himself for a while, to eat dinner or do something in another part of the house. He pointed to a wet bar on the far side of the room, indicating I should help myself to some refreshments.

Distractedly  I looked around the large library, examining book titles and the walls, taking it all in with awe and wonder. Without connecting the bottles to their contents, without even a thought that I mixing an alcoholic beverage, my hands reflexively poured a few ounces of some foreign Vodka into a tumbler, followed by a splash of tonic.  I sat in an old, leather high backed chair, and scooping up the book nearest to me, I sipped on my beverage while I thumbed through the pages. The drink was good, so I made another, and another. I was fingering the keys on the piano with my eyes closed when I felt the buzz come on and with it the light bulb. I was drinking alcohol, I was buzzed. The delicious beverage I had been pouring was Vodka and tonic. I stared into the mostly empty third glass, ‘Two years sober, and I just blew it without so much as a conscious thought toward it, without intention, OH god, I am gonna have to start my count over, all over at 1 day’ There was a moment of protest in my head, the disease telling me that maybe I could drink again, that I could handle being moderate, Yeah I thought to myself, maybe I can – I looked to a clock on the wall and slumped 15 minutes I have been here alone and already I have had three of these. I chuckled at myself, but I was crestfallen that I could wreck two years of sobriety on reflex, without intention.

The fear of that lingers as I am in fact approaching my two year mark. I suppose, as long as I stay a little scared and vigilante I will be alright, but what a fucked up dream.


Written by jamesjanus

June 16, 2010 at 4:29 pm

Posted in Addiction

Tagged with , , ,

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