PO Box 1980
I seldom dream, and when I do, it is usually vague and indefinite. But recently I had a dream that was very clear and vivid, and in full color. A man whom I did not know called me by name and stated that he had a bottle of the finest ten-year-old bourbon that he had ever tasted. He proceeded to fill two whiskey glasses. I always had liked to savor and sip good whiskey, at least in the early stages of a drunk, and as I raised my glass to my lips, the aroma and bouquet were really nectar for the gods, as was the taste when (in my dream, of course) I drank the stuff. Then came immediately the dishonest thought so characteristic of the alcoholic: "How am I going to keep my wife and my friends from finding out I took this drink?"
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