Dreaming

Drinking and dreaming is an interesting phenomenon. You need to get amazingly drunk, but remain JUST sober enough that your memory is not too impaired. Remembering a dream is hard enough without the use of an outside substance that contains mind wiping properties.

This type of dreaming you can’t awake from easily and it’s often mistaken for real life. You will find feelings both physical and emotional are accurate and it can have all the highs and lows of an acid trip. I have heard of very positive experiences with this phenomenon, but these are mostly people having realistic sex dreams that fulfill deepest fantasies and maintain a crystal clear base in reality. Mine never turn out this way. Mine are the bad trips.

For example, this was the result of my last drunken sleep where lucid dreaming was possible (as best as I can remember it anyways):

I am standing in the back of a crowded theater. Everyone is dressed in the finest gowns, tuxes and evening wear because a red carpet gala has just preceded this event. The audience is aflutter with activity and excitement as I make my way to my seat in the front. As I look down each isle I recognize famous figures, personal friends and all manner of relatives. People I know from movies and TV and people I know personally but I haven’t thought about or seen in years. It is a collection of everyone I have ever known or wanted to know. When I get to the front, I see my best friends and immediate family have filled the seats in my row. I glance at one of the displaced programs on the floor and realize… this is MY movie. These people are here to view the debut of my film. It is never certain if I have written, directed, acted or some combination, but it is clear that I have ownership here. This is my celebration for my creation.

The theater dims, the crowd roars. Standing applause as my name appears on the screen in enormous white lettering. The screen goes dark, people sit and the film begins.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

It’s static. Nothing but black and white snow as if the movie screen was one of the old TV’s and the knob was turned between channels. I’m horrified. I put my hands over my mouth but I cannot avert my gaze form the nothingness being projected. The nothingness I created. In desperation I jerk my head away and try to find some comfort in the people around me, but they’re gone. All the family and friends in my row have vanished without sound or motion as if they were never there. I quickly stand and spin to look at the rest of the theater seats, but they are empty as well. I am now acutely aware that this is exactly what I produced. Nothing. I stand alone in a darkened theater with only a static filled screen. The noise emanating from the empty film seems to be getting louder and louder and louder until…

I wake up.

This is just one of the reasons I recommend drinking lots of water before retiring after a night of debauchery. That, or make sure you’re drunk enough that you blackout, pass out and don’t remember a thing.