do you ever eat or smoke in your dreams?

I quit smoking a long time ago, but I still miss it sometimes. And I dream it frequently. The pack is new, the tobacco scent tangy when I peel off the cellophane wrap. I tear open the silver-foiled paper on one side of the sealing band that crosses the top, but do not tear it off; I will refold it over the cigarettes to carry them in my purse without filling it with crumbs. I tamp the band and unopened silver edge against my folded index finger, making two or three cigarettes pop up from the open part. I offer my dream-companion the first one (I'm more social, in my dreams), then take my own not with my fingers but with my mouth. That close, the smell from the pack is pungent. I can smell lighter fluid, and quite like the heft of my dad's gold Zippo, which makes a familiar musical note when flipped open one-handed. My thumb knows exactly how hard to turn the wheel. My companion cups my hand in his (of course it's a guy!) while I light his cigarette. His hands are warm. I light my own cigarette second, and draw in deeply. I close my eyes, savoring the smoke, holding it in my lungs like pot, then exhale it slowly, smiling at my smoking companion, whose return smile is knowing and says that later there will be sex.

Maryn, who suddenly wants a smoke real bad (Don't worry, there aren't any in the house)