A lot of us have "smoke-mares"; those dreams in which we're smoking and we're so glad to wake up and discover it isn't true. The feelings I usually have during the dreams are all mixed up with disgust and regret and some happiness, if I'm totally honest. There are times when I wish things could be different.
I had a dream last night about finding a full open pack of these things in the house:
This dream was not the usual smoke-mare. In the dream, I actually was like "oh boy! Look what I found!" and then when I woke up I wasn't relieved. *sigh* I was wishful. Wistful. That poetic nostalgic feeling of regret that isn't regret.
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, right? If I had a wish, I could wish that the Juul vaping thing could have proven out to be perfectly safe after all. I could wish that I'd never started at all so I wouldn't have to deal with this for the rest of my life.
But. This post is to acknowledge the dream, the feelings, the wistfulness, the brief longing for times past, the acceptance of all that comes now.
Thanks for listening.