Let me see if I can describe this dream. First of all, it was not last night, or even the night before. It was three nights ago, and vivid enough that it has stayed with me since then, resurfacing at the oddest moments.

(And before I continue, let me just say that I know other people’s dreams are boring. I’m relaying this one because it feels it touches on the theme at hand, and my reaction to it — hopefully more interesting — is what counts.)

What I remember most is that I had removed my male genitals like a pair of underwear. I had pulled them loose from my body, pushed them down my legs and over my feet. Then I had placed them in a duffel bag that I was carrying around.

vans_joel_tudor_duffleThe arrangement felt safe, as if I were walking around without them — i.e. fully female — but could recover them at any time if needed.

Then I remember experiencing the need to put them back on (though I can’t remember exactly why), so I removed them from the gym bag, assuming that I could them put them on by simply reversing the process I used to remove them.

But it wouldn’t work. For one thing, when I pulled them out of the bag, the penis was now completely engorged and erect. It was as hard as a penis can get, and I was surprised because that felt impossible without a body attached. In fact, I felt like they had been in the bag long enough that any residual hardness would have faded (sort of like the fading of morning wood).

The hardness had made the whole apparatus hopelessly tight. The leg openings were basically gone — as if the whole thing had shrunk in the wash (except for the protruding part, of course). There was simply no way this thing would go on again — at least not in this state. And there was absolutely no indication or likelihood that they were going to change back — in fact, it seemed just the opposite. They seemed permanently changed. What I had assumed would be a simple return to maleness was completely impossible.

This is where I may have learned something. I felt nervous at this discovery, and a little puzzled about what had happened. But I did not panic. Instead, I found that I was happy with the arrangement, and sort of relieved that reverting to male wasn’t possible. I was stuck female, and rather glad of it.

I carried on, trying to downplay my semi-disorientation, and did so without too much disruption.

Reflecting on this, it seems like I’m acknowledging that all of the sexual stuff I feel about transition is concentrated in my male genitals (how could it not be, I guess). Getting rid of them would get rid of it.

Further, getting rid of them would leave me female — as if I were already female underneath and just need to expose it. That seems sort of plausible.

By the same token, removing my male genitals was also the ultimate turn-on (explaining the hardness of the instrument). Once done, it’s done. Once gone, it’s gone.

These are not incompatible. What could have been a scary dream was actually reassuring somehow.

It begs the question: If you could take off your male genitalia like a pair of underwear, knowing that you might not be able to put them back on again, would you do it?

I think my answer to that would be: In a heartbeat!