Hanging out in my head

Honestly, I dream about you much less lately. Or maybe I forget the dreams that you're in more easily. I guess I don't need them as much to keep me happy; I'm pretty proud of my recovery. I did have a dream about you last night, though.

We were just hanging out, you and I. We were sat at a wooden table at some well-lit restaurant or something. We sat across from each other, each a glass of alcoholic drink in hand. Yours was a crisp golden color. Mine was a bubbly and clear liquid. You went on ahead drinking and smiling, while I just admired you; it was the first time we'd seen each other since 2015. This wasn't your first swig of alcohol, clearly shown by the way you took it. You had been living on, like I am living on, and having your own experiences as I've been having my own.

I hadn't taken so much of a sip of alcohol yet. I've been waiting to have my first drink with you. I have faith in your ability to handle me being under that sort of influence. I hear alcohol removes inhibitions, and unearths how one actually feels. I don't want to show that to anyone but you. So, after remarking that this would be my first drink, I went ahead and put my glass to my lips. I drank a bit. I guess it was a show of my faith in you, but you wouldn't know it because I wouldn't mention. I was just so happy to be talking with you, drinks or not.

I had a dream the night before that, too, with you in it. I rode a brown horse with you, and you were holding me from behind so you wouldn't fall off. We galloped and trotted around some seaside area of town. That one seemed less realistic, really. But I guess I'm living on fantasies at this point, anyway. Little wishes to just spend precious time with my dearest friend.