Dreaming Of Smoking
I dreamt that I was smoking a cigarette. That's something I haven't done for nearly 40 years. It felt good, at first, just the way it used to. The itch that loves to be scratched. As a callow youth, the reliable buzz from that first inhale, and then the unconscious sucking for more, filled a void in my unformed personality. And then I woke up. Both back then, and right now. Then I made the leap of understanding that smoking had become a part of me- but it was in the same way a parasite becomes part of a host. Now, after seeing friends and family suffer with this monkey on their backs'- it makes me glad that I had quit then. The smoking buzz is still there, but there are other thrills in life, better ones, ones that expand one's possibilities, not shrink them. Make no mistake- there is something to smoking- and when you quit it, you feel a "nothing"- a hole in yourself, as it were, and nothingness may well be the scariest emotion a human can experience. But that will pass.
I woke up.