Drinking steals dreams.
Yesterday, I was a year and half sober, and I spent the morning dreaming. My latest? I’m dreaming of organizing a “pilgrimage.” I’m not sure where to yet, but I’m leaning towards the Camino de Santiago, across northern Spain. I’d never heard of it until yesterday, but that doesn’t matter. I have not the time, money, or friends to do this, but that doesn’t matter either, because it’s a dream. I’ll let the universe take care of the details.
This time ten years ago, well into my wine habit, I dreamed of not waking up. The sheer exhaustion of dealing with kids, a job, and a lack of funds made waking up a nightmare. New day, same problems. Same hangover.
The good news is that your dreams won’t die unless you do. Still alive? You qualify for dreams. What did you want to do when you were in the first grade? I wanted to write books. I’m doing that too.
What about you?