Last night I dreamed I was just like you.
Toxins cling to your skin like a sickly grey fog. You toss and sweat, tearing at the gravity pinning you down and coughing dust into the air. No blood, just dry ice in your bones. In the twitching darkness you grind your teeth into miniscule stumps, the ancient dry forest in your brain slowly enveloped by flames and smoke.
Do you remember when you were on your own?
The nightmare grips you, deeper than the ocean and twice as dark. Ghosts of your former self pass before you, receding into other versions of themselves. For all their endless ephemeral decay, each one is more alive than you feel at this moment. You drown in these shadows.
Try to hold on to this feeling, but it’s already gone.
In the dying hours of the sweet, horrible night, you wipe the grime from your face and see a glimmering orb, like the moon but more impossibly distant. It is wreathed in flame and lit from behind, like a bottles-stopper holding back all the heat in the universe, waiting until the torrent of burning thoughts has exhausted itself, dripping like a spent candle. You rise and stumble off, fueled by cheap thrills. In this endless black expanse, you found something glittering and sacred and pure. Try to hold on.
The dragon is calling you home.
This is one of the greatest songs ever written about addition. This is “Year of The Dragon” by the Entrance Band.