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Little Mer-Me
Mar. 8th, 2019 09:35 amI had a dream I was a merperson. I was genderless in the dream, and humans didn't know how to swim. I loved humans, and wanted to be with them. So, I hurled myself out of the sea. It was hard to crawl, but, as luck would have it, I found a wheelchair on the beach!
I climbed into the wheelchair, and, though it was difficult wheeling through the sand, I eventually found a man to push me. (He looked just like the receptionist at the men's salon yesterday.) He was amazed by my merself, looking at my shining scales. He wondered what it would be like to swim. So, I taught him. I taught a few more people to swim over the next week, and we had a party on the beach. It was good to show people that the water was fun, and nothing to be afraid of.
I climbed into the wheelchair, and, though it was difficult wheeling through the sand, I eventually found a man to push me. (He looked just like the receptionist at the men's salon yesterday.) He was amazed by my merself, looking at my shining scales. He wondered what it would be like to swim. So, I taught him. I taught a few more people to swim over the next week, and we had a party on the beach. It was good to show people that the water was fun, and nothing to be afraid of.
Eventually, I found a way to walk (I don't remember how; some futuristic anti-gravity thing) and it was great because I could stay on land, but I could still go back to the sea whenever I wanted. I ended up spending most of my time on land, but going back to the seashore at the end of the dream to watch the sun set with some merfriends.
This is such a great metaphor for being trans, at least for me. I love how my brain does this!
Being a merperson was fine, but I knew there was a different world I needed to explore. This is like me being born a girl, but knowing from an early age that I would have been happier having been born a boy.
The sea, in this case, was full of people of my same gender (whatever gender that was; who knows, fish change gender all the time.) The land was the opposite gender. Coming out of the sea is as obvious a metaphor as you can get, so I won't explain it.
The man and the wheelchair were the support I will need along my journey to "walking," meaning, becoming a guy.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if cis people were amazed and delighted by the beauty of transition? Teaching people to swim was teaching them to understand being transgender. They would never swim in the deeper ocean I once did, but they can enjoy the shoreline.
By the end of the dream, in my real-life future, I was autonomous (as a man), and I felt comfortable going back to the sea to visit. This is a longing to come back to friends and family who knew me as a girl. It also symbolizes being able to express my gender fluidly. I don't have to give into toxic masculinity. I don't have to give up liking traditionally "feminine" things.The great part is that most of the "land-walkers" in my life whom I really hold dear have already accepted me, congratulated me, and offered their support.
I can't force my mother to learn how to swim, and I have no desire to drown her. She told me a story once about how her father (my grandfather) tried to teach her to swim by throwing her into the water. I dropped hints for years, but she never picked up on them. Now, I have sent her a book about being the parent of a transgender person, and another with a thoughtful and positive take on transgender people from a Biblical point of view. All I can do is hope.
Being a merperson was fine, but I knew there was a different world I needed to explore. This is like me being born a girl, but knowing from an early age that I would have been happier having been born a boy.
The sea, in this case, was full of people of my same gender (whatever gender that was; who knows, fish change gender all the time.) The land was the opposite gender. Coming out of the sea is as obvious a metaphor as you can get, so I won't explain it.
The man and the wheelchair were the support I will need along my journey to "walking," meaning, becoming a guy.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if cis people were amazed and delighted by the beauty of transition? Teaching people to swim was teaching them to understand being transgender. They would never swim in the deeper ocean I once did, but they can enjoy the shoreline.
By the end of the dream, in my real-life future, I was autonomous (as a man), and I felt comfortable going back to the sea to visit. This is a longing to come back to friends and family who knew me as a girl. It also symbolizes being able to express my gender fluidly. I don't have to give into toxic masculinity. I don't have to give up liking traditionally "feminine" things.The great part is that most of the "land-walkers" in my life whom I really hold dear have already accepted me, congratulated me, and offered their support.
I can't force my mother to learn how to swim, and I have no desire to drown her. She told me a story once about how her father (my grandfather) tried to teach her to swim by throwing her into the water. I dropped hints for years, but she never picked up on them. Now, I have sent her a book about being the parent of a transgender person, and another with a thoughtful and positive take on transgender people from a Biblical point of view. All I can do is hope.
