After writing until 0430 about sober anxiety, I finally fell asleep and dreamed what? That my house was on fire. The neighbors’ houses were all a roaring inferno and I was running around the exterior of mine with a garden house trying to douse the little patches of flame springing up on the roof. It seemed I had it under control until huge flames tore up from the middle of the roof and the whole thing collapsed. Then I had to stay in a horrible motel/apartment thing with green shag carpeting, the toothbrushes of the former occupants and a wretched aging composite rock star. *Sigh*

So tonight when I ask “now what?”, I sincerely hope that the answer is not dreaming of fires and grotesque over the hill glam rockers. Despite my lack of reasonable sleep, Day 43 free from liquor is ending in a cozy bed. In a home that is not on literal fire. That’s a good thing. I think I will go dig up those coloring books for grown ups that I bought a few months ago. I remember laughing at myself when I bought them and then never opening the bag again. But I’d rather dream of color pencil woodland creatures than of my house falling to ashes.

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