The Sacred Bevvy

 I was at a concert (or some kind of fighting match) at a student nation (or home party, this was a very blurred dream) in Lund, where I met a young couple. I had brought with me a bottle of some really nice alcohol, which I drank straight from. Not whisky, sweeter than that, but still exclusive.

One of the guys in the couple offered to take the bottle for me and hide it behind a fridge. I didn't really see the need but it was nice to get my hands free and also let the young lad feel helpful. We talked a bit and I said something in the gist of me being their age, then realised I wasn't their age at all as they reacted to this. It just felt natural to bunch myself together with people who were not yet family people themselves.

Then it occurred to me that I was the old Wolverine drinking at the bar and that I could be sexy as such, rather than trying to fit in with the youngsters. This was a big deal as I realised this and the sole reason for me writing this dream down.

We went for a walk and talked about lgbtq issues and thoughts. We talked a bit about the Queer bit and he informed me about that. I was keen to listen as it's the letter that I closest relate to. We slid down a muddy hill and through a water puddle. They managed to do it stylish and standing, while I decided in my mind that I could never do it as gracefully and fell on my bum and then ended up lying and splashing in a muddy puddle.

We made it back to the party, which was now my mum's place. I was keen to get my bottle back. It wasn't there! I looked behind the fridge and only found empty bottles collected there. Kahlua and other things, but not mine! Someone might have stolen it. I realised then that I was looking on the wrong side of the kitchen, but the other side no longer had a fridge so I started looking behind the curtains instead. Nothing there. I looked on the floor below them with my torch and only found some chocolate covered snacks spread out under a rolling shelf table. It was a sad bit of business.

Then, somehow, I found a piece of glass on the floor. And another. And another. Suddenly they turned into a small whirlpool of brown glass pieces, spinning around and drawing themselves inward to form a shape, which flew off the ground as through a reversed fall and materialised into a bottle in the air. I caught it. It was my bottle - my beloved beverage in it.