More dreams

I’ve read that some trans people have always dreamt about themselves in their identified gender. Normally the question of  gender identity doesn’t arise in my dreams – I’m just me – but last night, somewhere in the trajectory of a narrative about an entanglement with a morally dubious lounge singer, I looked in a mirror, and saw my dream-brain’s construction of me, post-transition. What I saw was, more or less, this:

David Mitchell as snooker commentator

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of David Mitchell, but I don’t think I could honestly say that this is his strongest look. So here are a couple of suggestions, brain: if you’re going to imagine me in five or ten years’ time, couldn’t we go for something a bit more like this:

David Hockney, by Cecil Beaton, March 1965 - NPG x14108 - © Cecil Beaton Studio Archive, Sotheby's London

David Hockney, by Cecil Beaton, March 1965 – NPG x14108 – © Cecil Beaton Studio Archive, Sotheby’s London

Or this:

Joaquin Phoenix in Inherent Vice.

Joaquin Phoenix in Inherent Vice

Or, you know, maybe even this:

Robert Downey Jr vs lederhosen.

Robert Downey Jr vs lederhosen

 Meanwhile, when I’m awake, I’m seeing myself in the mirror as a guy much more often, which feels great. Once again, the dream-brain just needs to catch up.


In Dreams

Since transitioning socially, I’ve had fairly regular anxiety dreams in which my hair has grown back to shoulder length and “turned me back into a woman”.


Again? Damn it! Where are my clippers?

Last night, however, I had a new kind of anxiety dream:


I’d used the wrong public bathroom. Unfortunately, there was no show-down as pictured above, just a sense of guilt and embarrassment. But at least my dream-brain seems to be working out where I’m supposed to be.

In other news, thank you to the pharmacist who “ma’am”ed me repeatedly this evening; the dysphoric feelings helped me switch off the self-doubt for a while.


You’re welcome.