I dream of coffee.
There, I said it.
I feel better now.
I haven’t been able to drink coffee since being diagnosed with an autoimmune condition, and that was years ago.
Nothing compares to the smell of coffee brewing. Nothing compares to the feel of the warm cup tucked within the curve of my two hands. Nothing compares to the flavor of coffee as it washes ’round my welcoming taste buds.
Then I swallow
The lights go out.
The music stops.
My dream morphs into a nightmare.
Coffee acid scalds my throat and esophagus.
Then, it slinks its way into my stomach where, without remorse, it shreds every fiber of tissue it touches.
How do I get over my unrelenting desire for coffee without falling into an acid coma?
I buy a big bag of beans. I grind them. I pour the grounds back into the bag from which they came for safe keeping. Then, when I need my aroma therapy, I unroll the bag and I huff my way into a coffee bean high.
A huff here, a huff there throughout the day, does a body and a mind good.
Coffee: An aroma better suited to console a weary heart and mind than the most learned psychotherapist.
Hugs from the Heart,