/ Photo by procsilas /
I lost a school buddy to alcoholism. The disease ravaged him, stole his charm, his musicality, his broad smile. I woke up one night in a cold sweat from a dream where I saw him walking around his home. I hadn’t seen my friend in several years because we lived in different states. I was in a state of shock: In the dream, my friend, from the neck up was just a skeleton, an image of the walking dead.
Something was wrong, very wrong — I wondered if he had died. I called his mother right away and found out he was living with her, out of work, and that he’d been in and out of rehab.
I later visited him in person. He had lost weight and was now painfully thin. His teeth were darkened from a cigarette habit, and his hands shook. He handed me a cup of coffee and the cup rattled eerily and his whole body shook as we talked. I could tell his nerves were shot, his energy depleted, his soul shaken – traumatized and lost.