By Lisa Phelps
When you dream, what do you dream about?
I asked Stana that question back in February. If she doesn’t mind me saying so, she mentioned that now she is typically a woman in her dreams, although that was not always the case. My friend Jocelyn also touched on the question in a recent post on Kandi’s Land.
I had a dream on December 22nd that had me scratching my head at first. In this dream I am with a teenager girl in a small chapel – a place of contemplation. I am definitely male and she is definitely young. She is thin and doesn’t yet have her “womanly” figure, but she has beautiful long blond hair and delicate, porcelain features. It is clear that she will one day be beautiful.
We sit on a small love seat and I put my arm around her. There are a few other people in the room and they are saying to me, “You know she is only 17 and you are nearly 25, so she is too young for you.” In my dream, I think to myself, “It is only an eight year difference, but you are probably right. She is too young for me.”
When I awoke, I was perplexed. Why would I be so obviously a male in my dream, when I clearly feel feminine far more than masculine these days? Why wasn’t I the girl? Here’s where my dream interpretations took me.
Before going to bed, I had been thinking about a young lady of about 14 I had seen at church during Advent. She wore a black sparkly short skirt with a white fluffy sweater over it. Her long, blond hair cascaded down her back. I was envious of her because she was so lovely, she was being kind to her younger sister and she seemed to be part of a beautiful family with several girls in it. As I drifted off to sleep, I was thinking that I wanted to have a dream that I was her, so that I could enjoy “her life” (vicariously).
The other piece of the puzzle is my age in the dream (25). Twenty-five was the adult male me because I reached my adulthood living as a male. But I think it is the dialog which holds the key to interpreting this dream. Those around me, as well as me (the male in the story), were saying she is too young for you. Therefore, I believe that “she” was a me that I could never be – my subconscious brain was saying that I could never go back and be a young woman like the young woman I saw in church. I can’t go back in time and live my life as a cisgender female teenager. Lest you think that idea causes me distress, I must say that it does not because despite the fact that I identified with females as a teenager, I lived a very full life as a male teenager.
Other dreams come to mind that relate to my dysphoria that you may find interesting.
A couple of months ago, I began discussions with my wife about taking female hormones in a small dose to help alleviate my dysphoria. That discussion induced a very interesting dream involving a train. I am standing on a raised bridge in Japan waiting for a train with my wife and a group of people. There is no railing on the raised bridge and I am distracted by a train official who is walking too close to the edge.
When I look up again, I realize that the group is gone – apparently the train was ready to depart and they have left on it. On the platform below I see a train looking like it is about to depart. As I sprint toward it, I see that the doors are closing and I won’t make it. Undeterred, I notice a bench by the side of one of the carriages that has an open carriage window and decide that I will use it to catch my train. In an incredible, athletic (only to be attempted in a dream!) move, I vault off the bench like a spear, right through the open window. I pull myself together on the floor and realize that I am in the First Class section. I go to the Second Class car to find my wife, but none of my group can be found. I awoke very distressed that I had left my wife behind. I don’t think you need me to interpret that dream!
Back in the summer, as I contemplated the idea of taking hormones, I had a dream that also took place inside a church, where I found myself standing next to a pool of crystal clear water (not unlike a really large baptismal pool). A lad next to me told me that if I could hold my breath for a long time, I could dive deep in the water and reach an opening into another “room” deep under the pool.
I seized the opportunity and dove down, discovering an opening at the bottom which I could squeeze through. On the other side was an underwater room. I was amazed that my air wasn’t running out. There were others gathered there, enjoying their time by swimming to and fro with great abandon.
After a few minutes, I feared that I might run out of air, so I squeezed back through the opening and went back to the surface. After reaching the top, I missed being in the room and almost immediately yearned to go down again. Breathing in deeply, I took the journey back down in the water to the narrow opening. The doorway (if you could even call it that) wasn’t as big as it had been before, but I wasn’t too worried about that because I could still squeeze through it. I rejoined the group and this time stayed even longer.
After a time, I thought it best to return to “my world,” so I headed back to the opening. It had narrowed even further this time. Once again back on top, I made a great effort to stay away from the pool. Yet, I found that it was calling out to me and it took great effort to stay away.
Eventually, the desire to descend again into the watery depths overcame me. Once again, I dove into the deep pool. This time, however, the opening had narrowed so much that I feared it would be impossible for me to go through it. Yet, when I stuck my hand through the crack that remained, I found that the rest of my body was able to follow. I quickly joined the youthful and fun group in the room – everyone was full of life. I completely lost track of time.
When I finally realized that it was time to return to the surface, the hole was now the size of a softball. It seemed impossible for anyone to get through it. One young boy managed to get through somehow, but by the time I went up to the spot, all that was left was a hole the diameter of a dime. I put my head against it anyway and one of new friends grabbed my feet and gave me a big push, but, nothing happened. The door back to the surface world apparently was now closed for good. Although that thought was unnerving, I realized that although I might not be able to return to the world I had known, this new place was delightful in its own way, so I had nothing to fear.
To me the “other room” is my female side.
Finally, I should also mention the interesting dream I had earlier in the year involving my wonderful spouse (who is “don’t ask, don’t tell” most of the time and never wants to see me as a female) that prompted me to ask Stana about her dreams. In this dream, my wife and I were standing at the top of a high mountain ridge shouting the names of those we love so they would echo off some canyon walls below. We listed all of our children, our now deceased parents and each other and then she yelled, “I love Lisa!” When I turned to her in surprise, she smiled and said, “She [our daughter] told me, and it's OK.”
In reality, my wife doesn’t know my female name and I doubt she would react like that if she knew, but in my dream, she used that occasion to affirm me. It gave me warm fuzzies and I awoke very happy.
Have you had any interesting dreams? Does your brain let you be a female, at least occasionally, in your dreams? Does your subconscious mind give “voice” to your transgender fears? I would love to hear more from others about their experiences dreaming as a crossdresser/transgender person.
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| Wearing Forte |
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| Long-time German Femulate reader Saskia in March 2021 taken on the last day of a long weekend near Lake Constance... A week before the so-called “lockdown” and the last time she was "away from home" for a long time, because a few days later the requests followed to minimize your contacts, stay at home, etc. And it was connected with a small, unplanned incident: Saskia’s car wouldn’t start due to a battery failure. “So I had to face the breakdown assistant in my Saskia persona. But all went well and after a while, I was able to start my journey home.” Saskia is on the Internet at flickr. |
