Three days before completing my 8th year of sobriety this last Tuesday, I had a drinking dream. It was the first one in several years. During my first five years, I had one about every year. Like clockwork orange, as it were. All of the drinking dreams are consistent in several respects: the drinking dream never includes me actually drinking. They all begin with me being somewhere by myself. I look down to my right hand and there's a half empty glass of alcohol (usually Scotch...). I see it and I know immediately where the other half is: in me. As I'm realizing that I've relapsed, but before it sinks in, someone walks into the room: usually my wife, sometimes my son, sometimes my daughters. And they see me and know that I've been drinking. And then I wake up from the dream in a cold sweat, feeling as though I actually had drank. As though I actually had relapsed.
In the first four dreams, I would have a hard time convincing myself that I had not actually relapsed. Even though I would know that it was a dream and not "real" --- my emotional state was stuck in a parallel universe where I had actually relapsed and I was tremendously upset that I drank. I was ashamed. I was guilty. I was afraid. Afraid of what? Ultimately, I realized that all of these feelings were centered on the fact that I knew I was going to have to go back into the rooms of AA and raise my hand as being in my first 30 days. As being in my first meeting since my last drink.
Why was I afraid of that? I was afraid of that because I thought that people would judge me in various ways. They wouldn't do it out loud, but they would say things to themselves or maybe to others in private conversations: Ol' Mike tried to do AA "his" way -- and he drank. Maybe he'll be willing to take direction now and do it the way the book says to do it! Maybe he'll get down on his knees and do a real 3rd step! Maybe he'll join in with the prayers before and after the meeting and not separate himself from the group like he did: never praying with us.
It took five of those dreams before I realized that the fear was that everyone would think/know that Mike was full of bullshit. When I realized that, I laughed! Shit, I don't need to drink to prove that fact! So I began telling people about my drinking dreams and my related fears: and I let them know what they already knew, that I was full of bullshit, I didn't know shit, that I struggled like everyone else with figuring out how best to do this sobriety and living thing. What happened is I made peace with my drinking dreams and I stopped fearing or dreading them.
Then I didn't have another drinking dream for three years. I did have an "almost drinking" dream in those three years: you know a dream where you are contemplating taking a drink, looking at the glass, tasting it before you've actually drank? In that dream, before I did drink I became aware of the fact that I really didn't want to drink again. And I woke up. Weird.
But this last Sunday night, I actually had another drinking dream. Similar to the first five in that I wasn't aware of actually taking the first or subsequent drinks: I was only aware that I had drank. I was standing in front of a TV, holding a half empty bottle of wine in my right hand and a half empty glass of wine in my left hand---knowing where the other halves were. And then I realized that I'd drank three days before completing 8 years of sobriety. Fuck! So close! Why did I do that?!?
But unlike the other dreams, I didn't wake up at that point. What happened in this dream is I was then aware of myself being in a noon meeting up in Sacramento. I was sitting in a chair as the meeting was beginning. I saw all my close AA friends there in the room and I felt at home. And when they asked if there was anyone in their first 30 days of sobriety, I saw myself raise my hand and say, "My name is Mike and I'm an alcoholic." I was home and I was OK.
And then I woke up. Sober. Still three days from completing 8 years of sobriety. And not afraid of raising my hand if I ever were to drink and make it back into the rooms of AA. I've never really feared taking another drink: I've only feared that I would drink and then be too proud/stubborn/ashamed/fearful to come back into the rooms of AA and tell the truth. My name is Mike. And I am an alcoholic.
I am tremendously grateful this night for all those who I have seen come back into these rooms after having relapsed. They've helped me understand that we always welcome back those who've fallen down and that we don't shoot our wounded.
Take care!
Mike L.
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I love this post Mike. I had drinking dreams often quite close to anniversaries. It's like New Years: everyone acts as if because it's a new year, everything has suddenly changed, the past is wiped away, and things will from now on be different. I always think to myself, "It's just another day; the distance between today and yesterday is not that far." The context has changed, and I think I mostly react to everyone else's seemingly overreaction. Why people celebrate it so vigorously eludes me. Within three weeks most people are back into the same old habits as before and nothing really changes. Perhaps having this great insight, I often wonder why people get this temporary madness. Why do they put themselves through an emotional binge? Do people really want to change all that much? If so then why can't they sustain it? Or more importantly, why can't we celebrate each new day as if it were New Year's Day? Can we truly start our lives and our days over anytime we want? Is the past truly in the past?
I remember my last drinking dream though I don't remember when I had it. It was somewhere several months from my anniversary. I was sitting in a bar -- low lights, wood paneling, almost like a ski lodge, only it was downtown in some city somewhere. There was a huge wood table -- almost like a banquet table. I remember that there were several familiar faces and a meeting was about to start. I remember getting a pint of Bass Ale from the bar and bringing it back to my chair somewhere in the middle of the table and taking a sip. Just then the blood rushed out of my head as I realize what I'd done. I was sure that I had slipped and all it took was a single sip. My actions betrayed a desperate plea to my fellows who witnessed this that it didn't count: that I could make a small mistake and it wouldn't cost me the years of sobriety, that it wouldn't cost me my life. The price is too high for such a little error. Even when I was still drinking I couldn't wrap my mind around the dual concepts of why the price for small errors had to be so high (as if perfection could actually be attained) and why I couldn't drink forever. But the drinking just didn't work.
I realize now that a lot of my fears and anxieties come from my brain micromanaging and criticizing my every little move. I try to plead that "good enough" is actually "good enough". I try for perfection and I fall short and I struggle with letting it go, with the fact that my dreams often don't match reality and I don't know what I need to do to link them.
Every meeting I go to is a reminder that this is a place where I belong and where I fit and that for nearly four years now, I've been perfect at not taking a drink. Some days I need this reminder that I've got a new measuring stick in life for my performance. You'd think the gratitude and zeal for life would return now that the pressure's off and all I have to do is not drink for today...but I still struggle with it.
Thanks Mike.
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