One of the main things I hate about my scatterbrained mind is that, sometimes, the main thing you actually wanted to talk about gets lost in the various shifts in topics thanks to how I segue into things. In this case, I forgot to talk about one of the main ways these days that I'll discover I'm dreaming.
It starts with something hyper-realistic. Fantasy elements are at a low, or nonexistent. But at some point, people will require me to either say or (more commonly) write my name. Now, the dream-me knows my true gender. Even if the hyper-realism renders me in the body I have when I'm awake, it never truly forgets, it never truly tries to misgender me.
How do I know this? Because, instinctively, I will instantly begin writing 'Brianna', stopping about midway through the second n. This is because my hyper-realistic side, the side of me which thinks I am awake, the side of me in control of lucid dreams whenever it is smart enough to realize she's dreaming, will go, "What are you doing, you idiot?!? They don't know that! You can't come out like that!" But it's about midway through this thought that this same hyper-realistic side will go,
"...Wait a sec."
In short, my subconscious me is awesome, instantly recognizing who I really am and by instinct will have me write my true name. (Bree is often done as well. It's just that if this is a legal document, my subconscious knows to go for Brianna.) This, either sadly or thankfully, never happens when I'm awake, because I've been writing my legal name for 23 years and it's been drilled into my head enough that I can write it even when knowing it's wrong, albeit triggering some dysphoria.
Still, with the recognition that I'm a girl in my lucid dreams, there's a drawback upon waking up: some of the strongest feelings of dysphoria I feel throughout the weeks. Like I said: my subconscious is good at knowing my true gender. Really good. Even when physically male, my mind in the dreams is always female, and because my body will often shift to its perfect female form, so to speak, upon waking up, I will remember that body, and at the first moment I feel something I shouldn't...
WHAM.
There it goes.
I know the true me. I know who I really am. I know it when I'm awake. I am human, so occasionally do doubt myself, even on something as fundamental as my base identity. But always, when I look back, I know I'm Bree. I also know it when I'm asleep. The protagonists of my dreams, when male, never feel like me; I always feel like an omniscient observer when they are doing their protagonist stuff. The protagonists of my dreams, when female, usually feels like me: I feel connected to her, able to feel things from her I never feel from the male protagonists. The male protagonists often end up boring me after I've spent enough time with them. But I can never get enough of the female protagonists.
And when I am dreaming and it's a representation of me, it'll never be me as male. Always female in mind, and sometimes also in body. (Those, naturally, are the better dreams, since female-mind, male-body is already my daily life and not something I see as particularly necessary to dream with.)
So, with me knowing that I am a girl, and in dreams feeling it, with all five senses...
...It's pretty jarring to face reality and see I've got a long, long, LONG journey before I can so much as hope to get a FRACTION of those feelings.
...Buuuuuuuut, at least on a lighter note, the dental appointment went well. I meant to mention this in the blog post before, too, but it ended up just being a footnote of existing. Basically, the appointment was quick. There was more waiting time than cleaning time. They usually spend like 20, 30 minutes it feels like picking at my teeth with that sharp pointy thing, used in conjunction with that small mirror. This time, between the assistant and the dentist, it was a max of 5. Subjective time, of course, but noticeably less.
Their basic diagnosis? My teeth haven't gotten much better: not really a surprise. But the good news? They also haven't gotten WORSE. And for me, with my rather unimpressive hygiene record, not getting worse is actually rather the accomplishment! (I mean, that's one aspect of my psychological profile off of a blog-dump that I found very accurate: the likely-health-risk thingy and all that.) I got the usual talk, so I think that I'll be able to continue my okay-habits.
It starts with something hyper-realistic. Fantasy elements are at a low, or nonexistent. But at some point, people will require me to either say or (more commonly) write my name. Now, the dream-me knows my true gender. Even if the hyper-realism renders me in the body I have when I'm awake, it never truly forgets, it never truly tries to misgender me.
How do I know this? Because, instinctively, I will instantly begin writing 'Brianna', stopping about midway through the second n. This is because my hyper-realistic side, the side of me which thinks I am awake, the side of me in control of lucid dreams whenever it is smart enough to realize she's dreaming, will go, "What are you doing, you idiot?!? They don't know that! You can't come out like that!" But it's about midway through this thought that this same hyper-realistic side will go,
"...Wait a sec."
In short, my subconscious me is awesome, instantly recognizing who I really am and by instinct will have me write my true name. (Bree is often done as well. It's just that if this is a legal document, my subconscious knows to go for Brianna.) This, either sadly or thankfully, never happens when I'm awake, because I've been writing my legal name for 23 years and it's been drilled into my head enough that I can write it even when knowing it's wrong, albeit triggering some dysphoria.
Still, with the recognition that I'm a girl in my lucid dreams, there's a drawback upon waking up: some of the strongest feelings of dysphoria I feel throughout the weeks. Like I said: my subconscious is good at knowing my true gender. Really good. Even when physically male, my mind in the dreams is always female, and because my body will often shift to its perfect female form, so to speak, upon waking up, I will remember that body, and at the first moment I feel something I shouldn't...
WHAM.
There it goes.
I know the true me. I know who I really am. I know it when I'm awake. I am human, so occasionally do doubt myself, even on something as fundamental as my base identity. But always, when I look back, I know I'm Bree. I also know it when I'm asleep. The protagonists of my dreams, when male, never feel like me; I always feel like an omniscient observer when they are doing their protagonist stuff. The protagonists of my dreams, when female, usually feels like me: I feel connected to her, able to feel things from her I never feel from the male protagonists. The male protagonists often end up boring me after I've spent enough time with them. But I can never get enough of the female protagonists.
And when I am dreaming and it's a representation of me, it'll never be me as male. Always female in mind, and sometimes also in body. (Those, naturally, are the better dreams, since female-mind, male-body is already my daily life and not something I see as particularly necessary to dream with.)
So, with me knowing that I am a girl, and in dreams feeling it, with all five senses...
...It's pretty jarring to face reality and see I've got a long, long, LONG journey before I can so much as hope to get a FRACTION of those feelings.
...Buuuuuuuut, at least on a lighter note, the dental appointment went well. I meant to mention this in the blog post before, too, but it ended up just being a footnote of existing. Basically, the appointment was quick. There was more waiting time than cleaning time. They usually spend like 20, 30 minutes it feels like picking at my teeth with that sharp pointy thing, used in conjunction with that small mirror. This time, between the assistant and the dentist, it was a max of 5. Subjective time, of course, but noticeably less.
Their basic diagnosis? My teeth haven't gotten much better: not really a surprise. But the good news? They also haven't gotten WORSE. And for me, with my rather unimpressive hygiene record, not getting worse is actually rather the accomplishment! (I mean, that's one aspect of my psychological profile off of a blog-dump that I found very accurate: the likely-health-risk thingy and all that.) I got the usual talk, so I think that I'll be able to continue my okay-habits.
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