I had a drink last night and lied about it

It was a dream, but still…

Last night I dreamed that I went to my 25th college reunion. Almost immediately upon walking into the room filled with vaguely familiar yet mostly unknown faces, I felt the sense of awkwardness and separateness that has always consumed me in social gatherings. Why am I here? I thought. I don’t know these people the way they all seem to know one another. Then suddenly I saw one person I recognized. She offered me a drink and I said yes and drank it without giving it a second thought. I felt the ease and comfort that came from the drink at first. But then, still dreaming, I realized what I had done - I had had a drink. My ease and comfort was quickly replaced by a sense of queasiness and panic. I had a drink, but I don’t drink. I’m almost two years sober. My anniversary is coming up. Does this mean I need to reset my sobriety date? I thought about lying - nobody else has to know. It was just one. I can’t show up at the meeting, stand when they ask for newcomers, and announce that I’m back at 24 hours. I felt shame and remorse, and I wasn’t even tipsy yet. I can’t tell them - I can’t.  Then I thought, well, if I’m not going to tell anybody, maybe I should have another one. 

Then I woke up. I had been in a deep sleep and when I woke I wasn’t fully awake - I was somewhere in the inbetween place. I was filled with a sense of remorse and regret about what I had done. I was dreading the next meeting I would go to, debating in my head what to tell them or whether to tell them anything. Then suddenly it hit me - I had been dreaming. It was a dream. I didn’t really have a drink! Still, it took a while, lying awake in the middle of the night, for all the strange uncomfortable feelings to slip away and for me to feel the sense of relief in knowing that it had all been a dream. 

What bothered me about this dream, and the thoughts I had in the moments after waking, was how quickly my instinctual tendencies kicked in. First, I readily accepted the offered drink and consumed it quickly. Then, realizing what I had done, I immediately started to plan how I would lie to the people I care about and who care about me. Then, having decided to lie, I started to think about how I could take advantage of the situation and maximize the temporary enjoyment and indulgence I would experience as a result of my decision to pretend like what was happening was not really happening. It was as if I was calculating how to get my money’s worth for this lie. 

Yes, it was just a dream. But, when I woke up - when I knew that I was awake but hadn’t yet realized I had been dreaming - I continued the plotting in my head to withhold any disclosure of my behavior so as not to upset my sobriety date and disappoint my AA friends. I felt guilty as these thoughts went through my head. When I realized it had all been a dream, the sense of relief I felt wasn’t just because I hadn’t had a drink - it was because I realized I didn’t have to lie about it. I didn’t think, “Thank goodness I don’t have to tell everyone I had a drink.” Instead, I thought, “Thank goodness I don’t have to lie to everyone about the fact that I had a drink.” 

In AA, people call this “alcoholic thinking”. It’s just how my brain works if left to its instincts. I would hope that if I really had gone to my college reunion (which I did not - I don’t think I’m ready emotionally to confront that part of my past), that I would have been able to hang out with my former classmates without having a drink. I certainly could not do that during college - before I discovered alcohol I was largely isolated and alone, hunkering down in my dorm room or in the library while everyone else was having fun in each other’s company. Then, when I was introduced to alcohol and it became the solution to everything that I thought was wrong with me, I would never be without it in any kind of social situation that involved more than one other person. But that was 25 years ago and I’ve done a lot of work since then. I would hope that now things would be different. But if they weren’t different, and I did have a drink, I would hope that I’d be honest about it and not try to pretend it didn’t happen, lie about it to others, and to delude myself as to the true nature of my behavior. 

I would hope, but I’m not actually sure. There were aspects of the dream that were surreal. Like, a swimming pool randomly in the middle of the bar. But, the feelings I felt during the dream were totally realistic. I really felt the sense of aloofness in facing the mingling crowd of people; I felt a sense of relief when I saw a familiar face, and that sense of relief was greatly increased when she offered me a drink. The feelings of remorse were vivid, as were the feelings of guilt as my dreaming mind started to plot out how I would obscure this event from my history. 

I didn’t get drunk in the dream, and I didn’t perform any alcohol induced antics that I would be embarrassed by or regretful of. What makes me uneasy is what the drink did to my mind - the immediate desire to lie, the commencement of mental gymnastics to justify my actions, the twisted rationalizations of my behavior. That stuff used to occupy a large percentage of my brain, and it was exhausting. Not drinking frees me from the mental obsession - that it was I am grateful for. This dream was a wonderful reminder of why I don’t ever want to drink again, and what will happen if I do.