04/24/2026
Twenty years of drinking killed my dreams. Literally.
Not the waking kind.
The sleeping kind.
The vivid, visceral ones where your whole body shows up.
You wake up knowing it was really you in there.
I used to fly.
All the time.
To magical, foreign places.
The days that followed were filled with excitement and fascination.
Gone. For two decades I didn’t know what I was missing.
Three years without alcohol and they’re coming back.
This morning, hike number 10 with Meredith. We’re talking about two kinds of dreams. The ones so big they scare you when you’re awake. And the ones that finally return when you stop numbing yourself to sleep.
Here’s the biggie. The dreams don’t lie. Either kind.
Attention > Escape
If you’ve ever had a dream so big it scared you, or so real you woke up still feeling it, DM me the word dream. I’d love to talk.
We’re out here dreaming at 7,000 feet in Salida, Colorado. Creative by nature.
1000dayssober creativebynature