"Using" dreams.

Well, it finally happened. I figured after 12 days, I had gotten past this inevitability.
Wrong again, my free-falling friend. It's your lucky day #13.
"Using" dreams...vivid, tastebuds, color recognition, faces and familiarity.
A narcotics nightmare of my favorite kind.
The experts were dead on.
Christmas night, for Christ sake.
Now I must admit, contrary to my underlying self-speak, my bruised brain & bony body is nothing more than a bleeding, pulsating, nerve-shattered textbook, Psychotherapy 101, as predictable and transparent as a sheet of windowpane acid.
The names & faces I won't divuldge to protect the guilty. But there we were, wheeling, dealing, scraping, crushing, lining it up, snorting and cohorting. Higher than the Wright Bros.
And then I woke up. Instantly thinking how this dream felt as real as any other countless time I was conscious, or semi-conscious, as one can only be when copping a $400+-a-day habit. I didn't want to come down.

Got Bush? ComeDown

love and hate, get it wrong
she cut me right back down to size
sleep the day, let it fade
who was there to take your place
no one knows, never will
mostly me, but mostly you
what do you say, do you do
when it all comes down
cause i don't want to come back down from this cloud
it's taken me all this time to find out what i need
yeah i don't want to come back down from this cloud
it's taken me all this, all this time

there is no blame, only shame
when you beg, you just complain
the more i come, the more i try
all police are paranoid
so am i, so's the future
so are you, be a creature
what do you say, do you do
when it all comes down
cause i don't want to come back down from this cloud
it's taken me all this time to find out what i need, yeah yeah yeah
i don't want to come back down from this cloud
it's taken me all this, all this time
shoot up, shoot up, shoot up, you're high



"It's the train that kills you, not the caboose."
n'm'out