My Cave.
I've been under a lot of stress lately, whether the stress is real or self imposed, it is there.
This stress led me to believe that things could be better. Things had to get better.
Just for this weekend, I formulated a plan. The plan was so simple it was brilliant. The plan would take a load off of my mind and make me feel so much better. One can. One simple can of Skoal mint longcut. Starting Saturday morning, I would just dip this one can. Once Monday rolled around, I would be feeling better and I would dump whatever was left in the can. Brilliant.
That first dip was good. Better than I remembered. The familiar flow of juice, the familiar burn. Even a head rush. Wow. Saturday is such a blur. Dipping is all I remember. If one dip got stale, I would replace it with a fresh one. It was like an assembly line. I didn't go to bed last night. I stayed up and dipped.
My lower lip and gums took a beating. So much so that I couldn't stand the pain of having a pinch tucked in down there. So I started putting the dip under my upper lip. Brilliant! I was able to continue dipping pain free and at will.
Saturday night / Sunday early morning - both are such a blur. I don't remember what I was doing at all, and I wasn't even drinking. I do know that I was in front of the computer.
I remember being jolted upright, staring at my monitor. I must have dozed off. I still had a pinch tucked under my upper lip. I repacked it up there with my tongue and spit the juices into the trash can.
This is when reality struck me so hard that I thought I was going to cry. What was I doing? What had I done? You have got to be kidding me! I blew my 320+ day quit. I made my way into the bathroom and spit out the dip and washed out my mouth. I went out to my garage and found the rankest garbage can and dumped the little that was left in the can on top of the fermenting garbage. I scraped out every little bit and made sure it too found its way to the goop in the trash.
I have phone numbers, but I didn't even consider using them. In fact, the thought never entered my mind until reality struck. I'm not sure I could call someone at O'dark thirty anyway. What would their wife say and/or do? By then, it was too late anyway.
I didn't know what to do. I still don't.
The next thing I know, I feel like I am falling. With a jolt, my eyes fly open, my heart seems to skip a beat, then beat faster than normal. I'm in bed.
It was a dream. It was a fucking cave dream at 321 days along in my quit. It was a dip dream to beat all of my past dip dreams.
Thank God, or in Elric's case, thank _________.
I don't know if it was the nic bitch messing with me and just deciding to kick me in the balls for old times sake, or if it was the stress (oh yes, the stress part of the dream was too real) and my brain, deciding to slap me upside the head just because. Whatever it was, I am so glad it was a dream, although I truly hate being jolted awake at 5:45am on a Sunday morning in which I am not fishing or hunting.
This dream, or better yet - nightmare, really rattled my cage. Maybe I needed it. Maybe I was getting too comfortable in my quit. I don't know what or why, I only know it happened.
The good news is, I am still quit. The bad news is - everyone be aware. She still lurks, our brains still remember.
Stay strong, stay quit everybody.
