My Ex, Vodka, and Heels: The Strange Echoes of My Dream Life

Is it weird that my ex, alcohol, and corporate life all have the same haunting rights over my dreams? I left them all behind years ago, and yet nearly every night, there they are, or at least one of them—sneaking into my subconscious like an uninvited guest at a party I didn’t want to host. Honestly, they’re lucky my subconscious is too nice to slam the door in their faces.

I’ve always had a very active imagination. My dreams aren’t just fleeting images or disjointed blips—they’re full-on, hours-long epics with plot twists, character arcs, and the occasional surprise cameo. So, when I tell you these recurring dreams feel like a second life, I mean it. They’re vivid, exhausting, and way too detailed for comfort.

Take my ex, for instance. We were together for 15 blissful years. Just kidding—they weren’t blissful, but we were together for 15 years. That’s a significant amount of time. My parents have been married upwards of 65 years, so in that context, it doesn’t seem like much. But when you live with a narcissist, 15 years feels more like 50.

I digress. At any rate, it took a very long time to rebuild myself and learn who I am. Years, in fact. I figured things would be more like a switch—once he’s no longer in my life, I’d snap back to the happy-go-lucky person I used to be. I figured that wrong.

About a year after I’d been on my own again, I remember talking to my mom about how difficult it all was. I’d just started a new job and was gearing up for the Christmas party. I was pretty nervous to go—by myself, barely knowing anyone yet. I was making myself go and my sweet mom, in all her wisdom, reminded me that being with someone for so long is a lot like losing an appendage. It takes time to learn to live without it. Then she added, “Although in your case, he was more like a giant wart.”

And that is how my ex became known as "The Wart." Funny, right? Well, funny now. Back then, not so much. For months after the divorce, I had these recurring dreams about The Wart. They were intense at first. I’d wake myself up screaming at him to get out. The dreams all followed a similar pattern, but over time, I started feeling more in control. It was like my subconscious was giving me the chance to rewrite the endings.

And speaking of dreams, I’ve been sober for over 20 years, but I still have regular dreams about drinking. In those dreams, I’m usually hiding it, just like I used to. Or I’m convincing myself that a light beer is “okay” and that I can stick to just one or two. But deep down, I know I’m lying to myself. There’s always that underlying dread that my eyes will turn yellow again, giving my secret away. Even in my sleep, I’m battling with honesty.

Now, let’s add corporate dreams to the mix. It’s been two years since I left the corporate grind, and yet, close to every night, I’m back in those conference rooms. Deadlines, process, meetings, fickle bosses—some amazing, some awful. I’m traveling constantly, lugging bags that are way too heavy, and always, always wearing heels and awkward clothes (walking for miles in heels, mind you). Worse yet, in these dreams, I’m frequently lost and my legs barely work. I’m trying to walk, but it feels like I’ve lost all strength.

Any dream experts out there to help analyze?

So here I am, dreaming about The Wart, vodka, and tradeshow deadlines, all while my conscious mind is doing its best to move on. Are these dreams tied to PTSD? Or are they simply proof that these things—the marriage, the addiction, the corporate race—played such a significant role in my life that they’ve left a permanent mark?

Maybe these dreams aren’t here to haunt me but to teach me something. If I had to guess, I’d say the lesson is that we carry our past with us. Even when we think we’ve moved on, the echoes of what we’ve been through linger. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe those dreams are my subconscious reminding me of how far I’ve come.

Because here’s the thing: I’m not hiding behind a drink anymore. I’m not living under someone else’s control. I’m not sacrificing myself for a paycheck. Sure, the dreams might linger, but every morning, I wake up to a life I’ve built for myself. And that’s a reality no dream can take away.

At the end of the day, dreams have a way of being little reminders of the life we’ve lived and the pieces we’re still working through. The Wart might show up, the corporate chaos might chase me, and yes, I might still be sneaking vodka in my sleep—but every morning, I wake up stronger and more myself than the day before.

What about you? Do you have dreams that refuse to let go? Are they teaching you something, or is your subconscious just trolling you? I’d love to hear your thoughts.