I recently had a dream that I was smoking. Well, actually the dream was that I was at party where there were lots of really interesting conversations going on. Very smart and witty. I felt great, at the top of my social game, moving comfortably among groups, knowing exactly when and how to cleverly respond, and when and how to take center stage, fully alive within the camaraderie of the party.

Until I noticed I was puffing away, quite naturally, on a cigarette, a Camel Light to be specific. And all of sudden the only conversation I was having was with myself. “Oh my God, I am smoking! But I quit smoking! How long have I been smoking again? Was it just for this party? Is it a slip that I can correct by stubbing this one out? Or is it a full-blown relapse?” And then I remembered I had people, people not at the party, who cared about me. “Have I been hiding this from them? Will I need to tell them?”

Mercifully, at that moment I woke up. Relief coursed through my veins as I realized I had only been dream-smoking, and was still safe in my long-term cigarette sobriety. I hadn’t strayed, cheated, lied, or relapsed. Whew!

Prior to quitting, cigarettes had been a surrogate best friend. My Camel Light was the friend I had morning coffee with, took a walk with, thought things through with, watched TV with, went out with, cried with, laughed with, and had a final bedtime chat with. But then I found a real human, one who didn’t particularly like cigarettes, but who really loved me, and that was the beginning of the end of my smoking relationship. For years I haven’t craved or even thought about cigarettes. So why this dream?

And then I realized that over the past couple of years, I have been ending other toxic relationships, specifically those with the voices in my head. Like the dream partygoers, those voices engage me in a fantasy world, one where my thoughts, ideas, and aliveness stay safely inside with them, in hiding, leaving an AI-like version of me to function in the waking world. It could almost pass.

Today, with the help of mindfulness, I am freeing my human self, learning how to show up more fully and put myself out there more consistently, which also means more imperfectly. It feels painfully awkward. And yet, like waking up from my dream, it’s a huge relief to be human me, living in the real world with real people, at what is the real party.

Here’s to awkwardly joining real parties!