Most of my dreams revolve around me immersed in a math test knowing no answers and having no clothes. I wake from these visions in a cold sweat, thankful that I’m out of school. This morning I woke in a sweat of a different kind…
When my dream starts, I am a lesbian contestant on RuPaul’s Drag race. You laugh, but it was a serious matter. How is a lesbian supposed to compete with drag queens? I wear makeup to funerals and weddings–these girls sleep with false eyelashes on. All night long I sewed fabric and used cosmetics trying to get the right look to impress Michelle Visage on the runway. My super ego was exhausting me by the time I had my high heels on.
The only oasis in this desert of drag was that I got to sit next to my crush, Courtney Act. Yes…she is even prettier up close. Smelling like vanilla sugar cookies, she bestowed hints and chirps of encouragement as I donned a long brunette wig. I was ready. I felt fierce and fishy. And then the music started…
Gentlemen…and lesbian…start your engines, and may the best woma—
Bam. At that point my id shoved my super ego to the hardwood floor and I was whisked away from the runway. It was probably for the best. I was sure to snap an ankle in the stilettos Courtney had chosen for my look, but I was willing to give it my all.
I now found myself in a biker bar. A straight biker bar. I was back to wearing sensible shoes and I quickly surveyed my surroundings. It was one step down from a clan meeting. This would usually be the time in real life where I would crawl into a shadow and quickly find the next exit. I want no trouble, but I look gay so in this bar I had found it. I was back to my lesbian self, but still carried the tingle of self-confidence that RuPaul’s contest had accorded me.
I walked up to the nearest table and threw down my gauntlet. “If I can beat you up, I get to make out with your girlfriend.”
A line of burly, bearded men grinned and accepted my challenge.
In a turn of usual dream events, I remained clothed and had to answer no math questions. I handedly ninja-flipped each and every one of the guys that walked up and then made out with each of their girlfriends. This went on for some time. I was just about to suggest that one nice blond (as a matter of fact she did look like Courtney Act) go somewhere more private when I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I woke to find my Labrador standing on my bladder. (She’s a blond lab. Coincidence, I think not.) I was sweating and shaking all over, but not in a bad way.
During the following long cold shower I thought what a great day this was going to be. I felt like a drag queen walking down a runway–ready to beat up or make out with anyone that comes my way.