I'm watching a TV show on autism. But I sink into the show, and find myself standing by the narrator, in a sunny room. Apparently I'm one of the autistic guests to be interviewed.

In front of me, a mildly autistic girl in her early teens is lying on a weird piece of furniture she built herself. She says "It calms me down--it might help other autistics." It's a plywood A-frame with a huge padded ridge, a bit like a giant saddle. She sprawls like a sleeping cheetah on a branch, arms and legs dangling. Looks comfortable and sexy. I'm embarrassed at how turned on I feel, look away.

But the show's host leads me over to her, introduces us, and puts my hand on her back and tells me to massage her. I do, gently at first, on her back, then going deeper and moving down to her butt and inner thighs. She wiggles happily and tightens her legs around my hand, so I slide it up to her pussy and pet her. She pushes in pleasure against my fingers, so I slide a couple inside her, and tickle her clit. The narrator just watches calmly, glad we hit it off instantly. Or maybe just gloating over his ratings.

Then my friend Alder bursts in. She yells "How COULD you! With one of my STUDENTS! And she's AUTISTIC! And I INTRODUCED you! You've betrayed ME as well as this damaged, vulnerable child..." I've never seen her so angry. She'll never trust me again.

I wake in shock thinking "It felt so sweet, we were both enjoying it so much--and this guy even put us together, thinking we'd be good for each other, both being autistic and all..."

I'm faced with a choice. "Alder's an old friend--is she right to be outraged, was that abuse? But if I believe her, I has to disbelieve EVERYONE ELSE--me, the girl, the announcer! And Alder was definitely wrong about one thing--she didn't introduce us, the announcer did. Could she be wrong about the rest?"

And then I wake.

NOTES IN THE MORNING

• Petting an autistic girl = learning to love my own body, especially the Aspie [Asperger syndrome] disabilities I've tried and failed to fix, to normalize...
• The A-frame saddle = autistic writer Temple Grandin (Thinking in Pictures) built a V of plywood for herself--an artificial crack she can squeeze into and feel safe. Apparently it works for other autistics too. The saddle-like thing in my dream looked like her squeezer turned upside down, so you sprawl like a sleepy cheetah on a branch, instead of squeezing in. It doesn't hug you, you hug it--but same effect! Calming contact, without being scary-personal like a hug. I think the dream's urging me to give up trying to be normal--fill my autistic needs openly, as this girl did.
• I pet her like a cat = I'm autistic, more cat than human about touch. Notice how even when it turns sexual we don't make eye contact--that'd be overwhelming! May look wrong from outside, but to two autistics that reserve is considerate, even reassuring.
• Alder bursts in, furious critique = today my voice teacher tore into my classmate Tania! She's always harsh with T, but I used to assume I overlooked some provocation--I'm an Aspie, after all. But today I watched closely. Tania sang well--energetic, original, fun. Our teacher savaged her! Not artistic disagreement--this time I'm sure. Personal dislike distorted her critique!
• So Alder = the hostile snap-judgments I expect if I quit hiding my autism. That's as taboo for me as pedophilia!

2016 NOTE

Years later, I did build a Grandin device to comfort me when people are too much--but I built it without realizing it! In 2012, on impulse, I bought a huge stuffed toy tiger on sale, and then found myself steadily altering her--making her more graceful, firmer and more lifelike, with wood bones and foam-rubber muscles. By 2015 she'd became a Mer-Tiger, part cat part mermaid, and I'd sewn three companions, creatures I'd met in dreams--a catgirl, a unicorn with a rose and a mirror growing from her brow, and a leptaur, part leopard part mare. They're simultaneously furry sculptures, sleep aids, dream portraits, sex toys, and, I now realize, Grandin devices too. See Foam, Furs, Dreams.

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