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MY GATE

Dreamed 1996/5/27 by Chris Wayan


I'm in Fremont, California, a Silicon Valley suburb. It's summer. Dusk. Fat moon rising, red-eyed from smog.

I was at a party here earlier--when I was awake. A friend's apartment. But now... I'm dreaming.

In my dream, I LIVE here.

I toss in bed. Just can't sleep--worried about my gate. It's just tied shut, with a leather cord anyone could slash, and slide in...

Get up! Get up! Gotta fix it NOW. It's been like that for years, but... it's time, that's all. It's time. And I know somehow... I have to fix it alone, no help, not even from tools. Just me, unaided.

As the light of the full moon strikes me, I turn into Were-Girl. Click to enlarge.
I slip out naked into the moonlit alley


But I do have one helpful option.

I can pick WHICH me.

So I step naked into moonlight.

And as the full moon strikes, I shift into my other self....

Were-Girl!

Suddenly I'm female, twentyish, medium height, pale blonde hair straight to my waist (no more frizz! I hate Were-Boy's brittle hair, he can't grow it very long).

I'm also fatter than skinny bony old Were-Boy--more of an athletic type. I love running!

I love being me.

I sneak out my side door, into the dark. Naked, but only a lone black cat can see.

On the side of our apartment building, there's a narrow path to the back where the wooden gate is that I need to fix.

At first I worry my neighbors will catch me--but feeling the warm summer night on my skin, I start to enjoy the adventure--even the danger that I'll get caught...

It's FUN being Were-Girl on the prowl!

Prowling naked in the alley. Click to enlarge.
I peer in people's windows, feeling a bit wicked and turned on.

Instead of worrying that others will see me naked, I'll watch THEM!

When you feel haunted... haunt!

It's FUN being Were-Girl on the prowl! I peer in windows... Click to enlarge.
And then, in the back yard, on impulse, I raise my arms to the moon that woke me, and dance to her.

I know, I know... you'd do the job you came for first, THEN dance--as a reward.

But I'm no lab rat! I'm Were-Girl! I play NOW!

Because fun makes you strong--not pain.

I dance to the moon who woke me, then try to untie the heart-knot that's tied my gate shut. Click to enlarge.
Years of neglect and sun and rain have stuck the leather in a heart-shaped tangle. The knot's tough; a knife or screwdriver would help, but all I have is teeth. Bite it, gnaw on it. This is the real reason I have to be Were-Girl out here--not for fun, not for beauty--for strength. Were-girl has Nightmare blood, you see--and mares have molars from hell. Sketch of a dream image: naked, I pull and tear with my teeth at a knot tying a gate shut Click to enlarge. Sketch of a heart-shaped knot of red leather cords: dream image

Yuck. What a taste! This stuff bites back! But it has to be done--I GOTTA fix this gate. Life and death! If I can't lock that gate when I want, how can I choose who to let into my life? How can I even know who I love, if I let them ALL in--because of a dried-up knot from years ago?

See...where I grew up, I was a hated minority kid. I was hit and spat on till I shut my gate. It's still shut. I just say no... to drugs, violence, gettin' loud, sex, love, jobs, competition, friends, attention, trust, joy. Gagged by hiding. I survived, since I didn't (like so many) let idealism tie me OPEN to every creep out there... but survival's pale as moonlight next to full-blooded life. I want life. Life in the sun.

Gnaw gnaw gnaw... this could take a while. Oh, I know!

Emily Dickinson wrote a poem I love, on the soul-power of a gate that opens AND shuts. Here--read it while I gnaw through this damn knot--gnaw and gnaw and gnaw and gnaw...

The Soul selects her own Society -
Then - shuts the Door -
To her divine Majority -
Present no more -

Unmoved - she notes the Chariots - pausing -
At her low Gate -
Unmoved - an Emperor be kneeling -
Upon her Mat -

I've known her - from an ample nation
Choose One -
Then - close the Valves of her attention
Like Stone -


A color comics page full of visual puns: an obscene dramatic reading of Emily Dickinson's poem THE SOUL SELECTS HER OWN SOCIETY, as performed by a horny ovum-angel and a nerdy sperm-devil. Click to enlarge.
Night. I gallop naked round the yard in joy, waving my fist in the air and yelling 'YES!'Click to enlarge.

(We now return you to our regular dream programming--you're watching DBC, Channel 1!)

...so I gnaw and gnaw and gnaw and gnaw and gnaw and gnaw and SNAP!

So sudden I fell over backward, but hell, it's worth a scrape or two! I DID it! Now I can choose who to let in!

Gallop round the yard like a feral mare, joyful, leaping in glee... I feel strangely free, and strong. Why the hell'd I put this off so long?

Install a simple, functional bolt... and it's done. Yes and no, come and go... they're mine again.

I stride back into my living room, naked and scratched, with straw in my hair and leather-gnawing drool on my chin... and grinning.

I stand on my head in the moonlight, chanting "Come back, Were-Boy." And change. Suddenly I'm male, tall and craggy and skinny, powerful, reserved and shy...

I LOVE being Were-Girl, so why turn back, you ask?

See--well--my girlfriend's coming over, and she LIKES boys. She's weird that way. Helps me to learn to like this body.

Why not? I learned to like broccoli. And broccoli's a lot like masculinity. How, you ask? C'mon!

Like masculinity, it's best when not... overdone.

NOTES IN THE MORNING

A technique I recommend to all you nightmares out there.
I transform back to Were-Boy, for my girlfriend's coming over. Click to enlarge.


LISTS AND LINKS: I'm Just Not Myself Today - cross-gender dreams - light - were-critters and shapeshifters - urge and impulse - nocturnes - dream nudity - dancing - play - joy - suburbia - privacy - dream doors - love - healing from abuse - toothy dreams - taste and smell in dreams - Emily Dickinson - pencil art - another dream of the heart's gate: Close the Gate! - the original comix version these illustrations came from is in the (print) comix collection Dreamtales - picture-stories -

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