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Dream: 12.20.14

December 20, 2014

{This dream had many disjointed parts.}


In the world of the dream, I live and work in NYC.

I’m walking along, in an unfamiliar neighborhood. It’s lunch break (from my job) and I’m not in any hurry to get back to work. On this block, there is a raised area of pavement, black, kind of a hills and valleys configuration. I’m sort of daydreaming as I walk by it. Something buzzes in a mechanical way. I think to myself, “oh hey, I must’ve dropped my phone [and that’s what buzzed]. I should go back for it.” So I walk back and pick the thing up. Instead of a smartphone, though, it’s the passport of someone named José Jiménez. I recall that my sister has a classmate with that name. I decide I’ll walk over to their school, and drop it off with the dean’s office.


Walking again. I’m wearing Ugg-like boots in warm pink. At some point, as I step, each boot flashes to change its colors — Left is yellow and turquoise; Right is apricot and grass green; Left is indigo and cobalt; Right is purple and coral. I’m kind of mesmerized by my own boots!


My boots change into big fluffy shoes that are hot pink and orange. At that moment, a young guy I don’t know comes up to me, saying, “This is crazy but I wear shoes exactly like that! I’ve never seen anyone else with them!”

I respond, “Um, are you, by any chance, José Jiménez?” Surprised, he says he is. I say, “You dropped your passport. I was taking it to Lost and Found.” I hand it to him.


I’m in a large communal bedroom with the older 2 (of my 3) siblings: brother D and sister E. (Youngest brother, N, is somewhere else.) E brings in 2 boxes of things. Gives one to D, sets the other one on a table by N’s bed. E and D start talking. I mosey over to N’s box, which is not sealed. I look inside, start taking things out to look at more closely. It’s mostly magazines; I flip through the alternative weekly newspaper, kind of excited when I see it seems geared towards QUILTBAG people. But a closer look shows it’s just for gay guys. Disappointed, I put everything back in the box, and wander away.

I look over at D and E, and they’re both sneering at me.


All 4 of us siblings are out walking together, in the city. We are all apparently on our lunch breaks, and in no hurry to get back to work. E and D talk to N about gay guy stuff (because N is gay). Everyone ignores me.

I trail behind them, but I’m in a happy bubble of my own. I’m wearing a colorful outfit that celebrates being nonbinary. My siblings don’t know that nonbinary is a thing, and I don’t tell them. I feel a bubble of delight rising within me. I skip and hop, grinning. I’m pleased as punch with the world and myself.

My siblings are thinking that I am “being goofy again, ‘for no reason’, like she does”. They don’t know I can hear what they’re thinking. I could explain what’s really going on, but I let them think what they do. I don’t care about their opinions at all.


We’re on someone’s large estate, out in the country. Under a big apple tree, N is setting out a new set of lawnchairs, mostly teal and green. The colors of the chairs are really pretty, and don’t look like any lawn chairs I’ve ever seen before, so I get closer to get a better look. The pattern is fluffy cloud-like blobs, with occasional small flowers in white and yellow. A bit of red-orange. I discern no repeat in the pattern.

N starts talking to me about Indiana. He seems to live there now. He says that, when I lived in Indiana, I never said that I really liked it. He doesn’t ask me anything, but I feel he is hoping I will explain something. I hem and haw a bit, thinking. When I look up, he is still watching me, so I know he’s actually interested. I say, “When we lived in Indiana, I was afraid to love anything. I was so miserable, it was such a bad fit, that I got superstitious. I thought if I ever said that I loved some aspect of living there, I would get stuck having to live there forever. But now that we’ve moved away, and we would never go back, . . . I’m free to realize that I really did love certain aspects of the experience of living in Indiana.”


I’m in a neighborhood coffee shop with E and D, waiting in line. As usual, they’re ignoring me. E laments to D that N “gets all the cute guys, but no one cute has even looked at me in ages. It’s not fair!”

I recall to myself that a really cute guy at that I see sometimes at a different coffee shop (that my siblings don’t know about) has been flirting with me lately. He knows I’m nonbinary, and he still thinks I’m cute!

I keep smiling to myself, and I do not say anything to them.


There’s so much to work with here! Kind of boggling that this happened in just one night.


(a) and (c)

As far as I know, my sister never went to school with anyone named José. But when I was a junior in high school, and she was in eighth grade, I did call up the one Spanish-speaking boy in her class, to ask him questions about how to word things in Spanish. I was writing a paper in Spanish, got stuck, and didn’t know how to proceed. It turned out that he didn’t speak a whole lot of Spanish, but his grandmother, who lived with their family, did, so he relayed my questions to her, and then told me what she said.

The whole thing is one of those weird things that only I would do. At the time, though, it seemed perfectly reasonable to me. My sister thought I was nuts, and would ruin her reputation at school. The boy, H, I don’t know what he thought, but he was very gracious, and I’ve always been grateful to him and his grandmother.

As far as the dream goes, though, why would a high school kid be walking through the city on a school day with a passport? It can’t be an accident he was Latino, as I’ve been fascinated by Spanish/Latin@ cultures since my first exposure to Spanish class in sixth grade. And I have a passport, that I’m not using for anything.


I’ve never worn any type of Ugg boot. Warm pink boots were pretty, and an Amelia color. The boots changing colors was fascinating and colorful and made me happy. #synesthesia


As far as I know, my actual brother N is straight.

If the dream characters that looked like my siblings are aspects of me, I think dream-D and dream-E must be aspects that have been “in charge” for so long, they’ve gotten really arrogant and dismissive of any aspects that are younger, have never been in charge, and/or are very different from them.

While dream-N was not ‘in the closet’ about being gay, dream-D and dream-E did seem to look down on him and/or worry about him because of that part of him.

I’m guessing there’s some quality or trait that exists on a spectrum or in a field that the dream-N aspect shares with dream-Me, similar to gay and nonbinary both being QUILTBAG elements.


The dream-Me aspect is unobtrusively growing. Pretty soon she’ll be essentially a peer of the dream-sibling aspects. But they have no idea that day is about to arrive.

She knows who she is. She loves who she is. She delights in her life.

They will be no match for her, because they don’t have anything she wants.


The colorway of the lawn chairs might correspond to a new or emerging wyxzi. I think it might even bridge differences between Hannah and Amelia.

The stuff I said in the dream about Indiana is actually something I realized fairly recently, and told Spouse about.

But as a metaphor, I think it also applies to . . . lots of things in my life.

Yesterday I spent hours going through digital photographs I’ve taken since 2011. There are so many beautiful and amazing photographs, most of which I forgot I ever took, until I was looking at them again. When I’m looking at the photograph, I remember where I was, what I was doing. But more importantly, I remember how I felt. If the photograph shows flowers from the potager, how I felt was invariably a rush of love and delight. (Similar, I would guess, to how people with pets feel when they see photos of their pets; people with children feel when they see photos of their children.) Pets live longer than annual flowers; children even more so. But I do much better with short-term relationships, that are very intense.

My whole life is like that.

When I was telling P about how I prefer relationships to be short-term because then I can sustain the intensity and variety of flavor notes I crave, I got the impression she was impatient. That she thought I was being self-indulgent, because that’s not How Things Work. Like… she thought I was rationalizing after-the-fact? Or trying to feel good about something that’s clearly morally suspect?

I’m a Perceiver, in a world built by Judgers, for Judgers. I’m swimming upstream because that’s how I’m made. All the while I have to find my own answers about why doing things the way I do them is a good thing. Because everywhere I turn, people tell me I’m wrong, I’m bad, I’m flaky, I’m irresponsible, I’m lazy, . . .

By not spending years living with all perennial flowers, every growing season, my potager contains a different mix of plants, mostly annuals. I love them so much when they’re around — I spend hours and hours with them; I take hundreds of fond photos with camera and phone both; I write poems that they figure into. But when the weather turns cold, and they die, as sad as I am, I need the break. I lie fallow throughout winter and early spring. I find other interests: read books, write nonflowery poetry, hike, spend time with Spouse, have adventures.

When spring returns, I’m ready to fall in love with a new crop of lovelies.

I remember everyone I’ve ever loved. But I can’t love them all, all at the same time, and all … forever. The people who can do that, as far as I can tell, love a lot fewer people. And they don’t risk very much on who those people might be. I do. I risk. I’m willing to try almost anything once.


{I have a splitting headache that just keeps getting worse. Maybe it will snow after all. Anyway, so I’m going to leave (g) for later.}

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