I dreamt that I was looking for the most dudely t-shirt possible. Clothing racks were in front of me. Friends in the past and family who I knew were jjdgemental of “weird” people were RIGHT THERE around me. My eyebrows were bleached orange and almost gone, like tweezed to death. I really couldn’t tell what I was.
My hair was reddish orange. My arms were fatter, unfit and pale, battered, bruised and cut. I looked it the mirror. I looked distraught, for sure. Then as I was practically running for a hat, a younger Sally Field in a beautiful light gown comes up to me and gingerly puts her hand on my right shoulder. No pun intended as I am a red head with short hacked hair in this dream.
She uses her right hand to push back my hair from a part and says, “There dear, now you look great…”. It felt so god. Other people were snering at me. I was runnin for a hat to cover my eyebrows until I could grow them bac! Ag! Ohmygod, y’know? I felt so un-me! But while I was still running, dream-conceptualized Sally Field found me and showed caring. She may or may have known just who or what I was.
What IS the stuff dreams are made of? Salineous alien tears in the water we drink? And with my last POST no less on taking transgender people as-is as a rule of thumb no matter what you believe about it. I got a free download matrix sample program of what it feels like to be scorned and then loved while appearing, awkward. Sad. I was very nice. I always liked Sally Field. She was very nice in my iagination.