I had a dream...

I'm definitely moving into that different phase, where I'm coming to terms with the idea that this is a long-haul journey.  I'm wary of saying I'll never drink again; as that is almost an unlucky thing to say - tempting fate as it were.  I have to stick to my one-day-at-a-time mantra, and that way I feel I won't break my momentum.

I've had a number of dreams of late, not surprisingly about booze.  The one that stood out is as follows:

I'm in a pub, drinking a pint of indistinguishable booze - a kind of lager/bitter hybrid.  It tastes of nothing. I have no feelings about the drink or me drinking it.  Total ambivalence.  Apathy.  Someone (don't know who - can't see the face or hear the voice) offers to buy me another pint.  I agree without thinking.  Then the pint arrives...

I am horrified.  Repulsed by it.  It looks exactly like the one I'm drinking and yet it fills me with dread and horror (and I really mean that - no exaggeration)!  I insist that it is taken away from me - I don't want anything to do with it.       

What does this mean? Not all dreams mean something, do they?  Yet I can't help but thinking that the pint I'm drinking is what I'm leaving behind - and actually I have no thoughts about it.  I don't care much for it either way.  Does that demonstrate acceptance of letting it go?  And the new pint - the one that I want out of my site - is my future.  A future without the pint.  Without the booze.

Russell bloody Grant eat ye heart out!