There is a story by one of my favorite authors John D. MacDonald called Wine of the Dreamers, which has more to do with mind than wine. However, I did dream last night, and I think it was because I had two glasses of wine. 
I had made dinner for my stepdaughter Maya, spaghetti with browned Italian sausage mixed into a marinara sauce 
with red chile. There was bread too, and chilled water, and a sweet wine. I had bought the sweet wine for Maya. The food was great, and we had a great time talking all through dinner and a desert of strawberry ice cream. It was probably because of Maya that I dreamed about her mother, the one I call the Dragon. 
In my dream that night, I visited the dragon, and there was nice talk and a sweetness in her voice that I don’t recall ever hearing. It seemed we were to be friends again. Maya was with me, and we all talked. Something happened however, and the dragon was gone. Maya and I had to find her. Somehow we knew she was in a different house. There was something about a note left saying she had to leave.
Maya and I made our way to another house where the Dragon was supposed to be, and sure enough, she opened the door to us. I looked at her and recognized her face, but something wasn’t right. She was too tall, and her face would not remain still. As I watched, her face took on qualities of another face. I realized I was seeing my first wife, Irene, the nice one. But the face was neither one of them, the face was both of them together. I could not understand it. I felt a wave of sexual attraction to the woman, or women. At the same time, there was fear. There was an ugliness about the face I looked at. It did not stay still, would not coalesce into either Irene or the Dragon, but had elements of both, switching around, morphing, swirling. I stared at the face, feeling fear rise in me. I was attracted and repulsed at the same time. I moved towards the woman/women and woke up.
I should know better than to drink anymore.
Especially wine named Plum Loco.
