I was in the closet for more that 50 years. In that time, I hide who I was, careful of ever gesture, of everything I said and how I said it , of every opinion expressed for what it might suggest, of every like or dislike to the preference of colour and sport. All the while, alone at night, I dreamed of a different being.

I used to dream of dresser drawers of blouses and skirts, of potpourri scents of lingerie, panties and nighties. On occasion as a child, late in the creaking silence of night I would escape a boy’s world to tiptoe to the laundry. There I would scoop from the hampers my sisters' and mother's clothes, then neatly fold them and place them just so in the drawers – the dresser and it’s content now that of a little girl -- my 'other' clothes discarded on the floor. I would return to a transformed bed – pattern to floral print - and tuck under a pastel blanket into a contented curl, transformed myself.

These were fitful moments of pleasure, cherished but filled with fear of sleep and dawn before the return of these treasures. But, for a brief moment, perhaps an hour, I would lie in bed and exist in this other world.

Each morning the nights’ affairs were pushed away as dreams and my secret. I would go about my day, cautious that I not betray. Yet, each afternoon, anticipation of this special place that night allowed would mist my thoughts. All a distraction to the day. Just dreams.

Maybe even this memory is a dream, no more than revery of who I was not.

Maybe what I thought was my life was the dream, all mystery, confusion, ennui and wonder, an opera with two suitors, one begging for the day, the other for the night and I Christine.

I guess I didn't know what was real back then but I thought I knew what was 'right'. I didn’t understand it but I fought for it. There was a faux banner that others convinced me to follow.

Somewhere in time the dream overtook this reality, pressing its existence into the day. What I applied in will, desire, fear, shame and self-loathing to hold at bay was a mist you cannot even lean against, that cannot be stopped as it enfolds and blots from sight what you think is real.

In the dissipation of this mist, 'I' emerged and the world as I thought it, different. It was the 'real' that was the mist. Reality was a false banner I had followed for others’ beliefs. It was the mist that had substance, not the world momentarily hidden. My own beliefs are making the dream the truth and showing my life’s trials, this ‘reality’ to be the illusion. My constructions are undone, askew, ungrounded and unsupportable. I have engaged the dream.

My body is changing. It is all so very real. My breasts have volume, weight and presence. My skin is smooth. I think this and think it a dream, but others see it too. Finally, I have pointed out to others this mirage, this a steady image on the horizon, my denial no match for my soul’s thirst for my true self. Others see it too! Can dreams be shared like this, or is it really true.

I see myself reflected in shop windows, a shape no longer what is was, yet not quite what it will be. I burn with a fear that I am making my dream corporeal - a reality.

How do you know if your mind is changing. How can it look within itself and know? Does my changing perception perceive the changes taking place. I cry and don't know why. I am strangely content. I am fearful for no reason, then happy. I am lost. I cannot find what is sustaining me in this journey. I am not tired but rejuvenated with each step.

I retreated from the world to find this dream. Now I am emerging. My new world expands as if in this I breached the boundary between reality and dream and the two are becoming one. Is everything I see a dream except this tiny but expanding world?

I am Ann now totally in mind and in private. My wife avoids the room I occupy when Ann. I am unseen as Ann, so do I exist or is this more of the dream.

I am announcing outside this safe haven, by letters, by phone, and in tearful stuttering conversation, who I really am. Am I dreaming that they accept? My world is expanding. Every pronouncement accepted or not gives me courage and my new world substance, certainty and promise.

The change is real. I feel it.

Beautifully written Ann, obviously from the heart. It brings back a lot of memories I have of when I was a little girl. I really wish you all the best, you deserve it...you've waited long enough.

Hugs & kisses,

Monika

Beautiful! Made me cry. Surely, this was hard. You should be proud. I see the changes also. Enlightening,i think

Ann, this is so beautiful and so beautifully written, obviously it is a reflection of the beautiful woman you really are.

Hugs...Joni

Just Savour EVERY second of it.....cos this is something you so richly deserve!

LOL xxxxxxxxxxxx
Anna-Marie

Ann,
This is one of the most touching things I have ever read. Perhaps because I have spent time in that world and know how much it means as an adult. But as a child it must have been truly wonderful and frightening but the treasure worth the risk.

Thank you for sharing this. I think I will remember your story for a long, long time.