Are anyone's drinking dreams actually fun?
Relapse dreams are a literal nightmare, which is precisely what makes them great.
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When I was 11 or 12 years old, I had one of those dream interpretation dictionaries where you could look up the supposed meaning of different parts of your dreams. Teeth falling out? You were worried about money (or something; I have absolutely no recollection of what it said). But I remember interrogating anyone who came over to the house about their dreams and then making them sit on the couch while I furiously flipped through the pages so I could go baby Freud on them.
When I was drinking, I stopped dreaming. Sleep wasn’t so much sleep as it was a temporary, involuntary collapse into oblivion. When I got sober, I was told to expect weird dreams, and my brain delivered.
Once I’d been sober for a few months, my dreams veered into darker and more disturbing territory. I had a lot of anxiety dreams, some PTSD-related nightmares, and a lot of “drinking dreams.”
Drinking dreams were another thing I was warned about, but it turns out the term turned out to be a bit of a misnomer, at least for me. I assumed a “drinking dream” would be one in which my subconscious treated me to a romanticized version of my glory days of drinking. People described these dreams as upsetting, and I could understand how those images would be profoundly, tantalizingly unsettling.
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The reality is somehow both better and much worse. They’re more relapse dreams than drinking dreams, seeing as no actual drinking happens in them. Instead, the dream begins like I’ve just woken up from a blackout: I don’t have concrete details from the night before, but I know without absolute certainty that I was very drunk, caused a bunch of chaos and destruction, and left a trail of furious and disappointed loved ones in my wake. The rest of the dream—or nightmare, more accurately—consists of me struggling to figure out what kind of monstrous behavior I’d engaged in the night before, repair various relationships, and internally come to terms with the fact that I’d stayed sober for however many years, only to end up once again mired in the worst consequences of my alcoholism.
In other words, all the worst parts.
Fittingly, relapse dreams leave me with a kind of hangover. Even after I’ve managed to convince myself that I hadn’t spent the previous evening blowing up my life, I can walk through the rest of the day feeling unsettled, like something terrible has happened, I’ve just temporarily forgotten what it is. These “hangovers” were especially pronounced early in my recovery, but they still happen.
Unfortunately, that’s also a relapse dream’s biggest gift: It’s a visceral reminder of how miserable and claustrophobic life can be when you have an alcohol addiction, and the dizzying relief of no longer living in that dark reality. For me, it’s never a giddy type of relief—it’s the kind of sickening relief you experience when you’re driving and manage to slam on the brakes just in time to avoid an accident.
There’s very little research into relapse dreams, but the one study I found suggests that drinking/using dreams in recovery are not associated with relapse risk, but instead are “often met with great relief and are not reported as increasing desire to re-engage with substances — in fact, quite the opposite.”
The authors go on to write that “There may be an adaptive function to drinking-drug using dreams that help bolster motivation and heighten vigilance against relapse.”
Although I can only offer anecdotal evidence to support their hypothesis, it tracks with my experience. I don’t have nearly as many relapse dreams as I used to, and when I do have them, it doesn’t take me as long to shake them off as it used to. But I still get them, and they’re jarring every time.
It’s a pretty sadistic way for my brain to remind me of what would happen were I to drink, but it’s wildly effective. It’s like the Ghost of Addiction Past knows exactly what scenes to show me to make me feel as ashamed and disappointed in myself as possible, and then plops me right down in the middle of the misery.
It’s a reminder of the incredible, mysterious, and sometimes sadistic power of our brains. I hate it and I’m grateful for it.
If you’re in recovery, I’d love to hear about your relapse dreams and how they affect you. Does anyone have purely drinking/using fun times dreams? What’s it like waking up from that? Do you always have the same type of dream, or can it vary? Does something in particular trigger them? Do you feel like they help your recovery or put it on shakier ground?
Let me know in the comments (or, if you prefer, send me an email).
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I’m not a doctor or mental health professional, so my advice shouldn’t be construed as medical or therapeutic. You are free to take or leave it.
I'm three and a half years sober and still get several of those dreams a week. My experience tracks with yours — I end up at a show with friends and temporarily forget that I'm sober, only to have the least fulfilling night and severe regret. They're a blessing + a curse!! However, I'd much rather dream-me reap the consequences than real-me.
Drinking dreams are a gift. Mine generally involve just the decision to drink and then my horror that I tossed decades of sobriety in a flash. I awake relieved.