Last night I dreamed I went to visit the man I love, and when I arrived at his home he was dressed in drag. We kissed on the sofa--I touched his body through his clothes. I felt his arms and his legs, but had to keep reminding myself that he was my beloved--not this slender blond woman--a stranger to me.
Playfully he stood up, cracked a joke and laughed. He was obviously enjoying our visit, and although I was glad to see him, I felt sick and uneasy and quickly grew tired of the way our reunion was unfolding.
I called him over and he sat down beside me. I put my arms around him and began to cry. I told him I thought he was the prettiest woman I'd ever seen, but it was him I missed, him I wanted to be with--not her. I told him I wished he'd just take off the make-up and put on his t-shirt and jeans.
He left the room and when he returned, I was sitting on a chaise lounge. He sat down behind me.
"There," he said.
I turned around and was relieved to see the man who was so familiar to me.
"You have to accept me as I am," he said in a scornful tone. "And that's part of who I am."
Suddenly he was in front of a huge mirror, but the way he appeared in the flesh was different than he appeared in his reflection.
As I studied the difference between the man before me and the man in the mirror, I wondered if what we had was ever what I thought it was.
I realized how alone with him I'd always been and would probably always be...and that's when I woke up from the dream.