I Had That Smoking Dream Again

18 years quit and the demon is still in my pocket

She took a puff then handed me the lit cigarette. I didn’t know her, but her long brown hair and cute smile seemed familiar. I tried a drag on it but got nothing. Something was wrong, no smoke even though it was lit. Confused, I looked at the girl. She was still giving me that inviting smile. Then I woke up.

These dreams happen to me every few months. Even after 18 years, my subconscious mind remembers smoking and being cool. Wow, does my subconscious ever want to hang out with the cool kids again and get that nicotine. It just won’t forget.

After I got up, I made some fresh coffee and hit the shower. Then I grabbed a cup of my new drug of choice, caffeine. I sat and thought about that time so long ago when I broke free from tobacco. And how these dreams are a warning to never touch the stuff again, in any form.

18 Years Earlier: Younger, Dumber But With More Hair

I had the window cracked to let out the smoke. Even though it was -30 C and windy. Gusts of cold air came into the truck when I stopped at a red light. I was about to pull into a gas station and pick up a couple more packs of smokes for tomorrow when I suddenly decided I wasn’t going to.

As I drove back to the room I checked my drug stash. 13 more cancer sticks. This was it. I was finally going to quit.

The next few days were rough, but I stuck to my non smoking guns. I put away my fancy Zippo windproof lighter, even though it was one of my emblems of coolness. I was grumpy and jumpy and irritable. Everyone at work was sad that I quit because I wouldn’t stop nit picking.

It wasn’t the first time. I had quit smoking 6 times before this. Once, I even made it a couple months. This was mostly because I was so sick that I could barely breathe fresh air, let alone the stuff contaminated with foul toxins.

I was working construction back then. The world was our ashtray. With the great outdoors around us, we could light em up as often as we liked. So we did. And over time, I inflicted a lot of damage on myself.

I came down with a chest cavity lining infection. The doctor told me quit smoking or else. But I couldn’t quit. I thought I would just tough it out, like Wolverine. Unfortunately my mutant powers are mental, not regenerative like his. My body was getting worn down and super stressed.

Next stop: shingles. It hurt bad. The stress from the chest lining infection lowered my immune system and the varicella-zoster virus, the one that causes chickenpox, gave me a rash around the right side of my body. Right at the belt line. I couldn’t wear pants for three weeks. I quit smoking for a whole two months to recover. All I could do was drink coffee and wait for health.

Then I was right back at it.

Why Did I Start Smoking? To Be Cool Like My Dad

I rolled my first “smoke” with my dad’s rolling papers when I was 9, using dried grass off the lawn. It didn’t go down so good, but it sure made me feel like I was smoking. Just like my dad.

I stole a few cigarettes out of the pack a few times when I was a teenager, but really never started until I was an “adult.” You know, that feral stage between 18 and 24? That’s where we think we know things and have the world on the run. I smoked when we were out drinking and terrorizing the town.

I blame my first serious love for driving me to become a full time smoker, even though my dad’s habit and the partying laid the groundwork. Kris and I were fighting about money. I only smoked occasionally, but she was pounding out a pack a day. I was paying for them, too. She moved in with me and mysteriously lost her job after not going to work a few times. So money was tight.

“You aren’t allowed to start smoking, ever,” she told me. “We can’t afford it.” And she meant it. I was not allowed to spend my own money except on her.

I’m a rebel. I started smoking the next day. Not long after, we broke up and she moved on to suck the money and life out of someone else. I just kept on smoking. That would show her! And in a couple years I was up to more than a pack a day.

It took me 15 years to find a way to kick the nicotine demon to the curb. But it follows me around, trying to get back in and ruin me.

After I Quit, The Dreams Started

In these dreams, I’m a smoker who can quit anytime he wants. I say things like “Yeah, I’m going to smoke this pack and then take a few weeks off.” I bum cigarettes off cool, sexy people in the dreams, usually women. We smoke together and then I go on my way. My dream self is fully aware I have it totally under control. It’s just a little harmless fun. I could smoke again and quit just like nothing.

Yeah, right.

This insidious demon is working slowly away at me, trying to erode my better judgement. Smoking wants to make a comeback in my life. It hovers back there like a large tar covered mosquito, buzzing in my ear but dodging away when I bat at it. It leaves for a month or two and then returns. The demon slips back into my dreams promising sex and smoke and fun.

The Smoke Demon Is a Liar

There’s one thing I’m sure of. I can’t just have one cigarette. If I ever make that mistake, it will lead to two cigarettes, then I might as well finish this pack, and then I could just get another one.

That includes vaping. Every time I see someone with their douche flute I think “I could try that. It’s not like smoking. I would just get the nicotine and not the smoke!”

Then, I wind up my mental fist and slap that imaginary vape utensil out of my hands. I give my imaginary self a couple smacks for good measure, grab him by the scruff and march him away from the “cool” people and their douche flutes.

Somewhere, deep in me, I’m wired to consume nicotine and blow out smoke. My only hope is to be aware of it, and slowly starve it out. I’m never smoking again.

Pass me that coffee, would you?