Last night, I dreamed that I was a girl. 

It wasn’t something I had grasped immediately, but I did recognize that something fundamental had changed within me. Thinking back, I wonder what it was that had tipped me off exactly? It honestly could have been any number of things. Was it the length of my nails? The weight of the hair on my head? The heaviness of my chest? My more vertically challenged build? The strange sensation in my lower region?

Whatever the reason, I couldn’t escape from the feeling that something was egregiously wrong with me.

As I sat up on the unfamiliar, frilly bed sheets that were laid out on the mattress, my eyes drifted around the dark room in search of nothing in particular. Although I had done it in a half daze, this cursory glance had granted me a better grasp of the situation.

Though I casually refer to it as a situation, there were so many things wrong that I almost didn’t know where to begin. Everything was arranged in the completely wrong order, the room was much larger than normal, and, though the room was almost pitch black, I could tell that the walls were a darker color than I remember. 

I also spotted a large dressing table where my personal computer would have been, complete with a large mirror, an assortment of glamorous accessories, makeup sets and brushes. All this is to say that this clearly wasn’t even my room.

I hopped off the bed and walked over to the dressing table. Upon arrival, it didn’t take me long to realize the source of the strange feelings I had been besieged by upon waking up. A gorgeous, feminine face had been staring back at me in the mirror. It was a face that belonged to none other than Zoey Brahm—my classmate, the most popular girl in senior year, and the girl of my dreams.

The reflection of her beautiful face, as well as her normally flowing hair tied into buns, was portrayed in the mirror with almost crystal-clear perfection. It felt too realistic to be a dream. I (she) had been wearing plain teal pajamas. Having only seen her at school in her usual eccentric clothing, homely clothes like these felt like I had entered a forbidden world. It was like the kind of fuzzy feeling that overwhelms you when you get a new puppy. It took me a moment to realize that I had been gawking at myself (Zoey) in the mirror for about two minutes before I caught myself.

The fact that I was dreaming about her wasn’t the strange part. In fact, I had been having lots of strange dreams since I started high school, and ones concerning Zoey in particular were not exactly uncommon. I had been thinking about how to ask her out to the homecoming dance for the entirety of that night before I fell asleep, so I would go as far as to say that it would be strange if I weren’t dreaming about her.

But this was different. This, actually ‘becoming’ Zoey, holds implications that I am fearful to acknowledge. I couldn’t help but wonder about the type of fantasy I was currently engaged in.
Trying not to dwell on that train of thought for too long, my eyes darted around and found that this appeared to be my mind’s idea of what her room would look like. The place was as neat as could be. She had both a dressing table and a study table, each as tidy as one would expect from someone of her reputation. Her bed was also well-made with a laptop and her phone resting next to the pillow that my (her) head was resting on.

The complete perfection of it all was almost disappointing to me. Why was I hoping for some kind of large, glaring fault in her persona? Did the fantasy of seeing past her supposed superficial diligence excite me? 

Well, not that any of it mattered. It was only a dream after all. But since it’s only a dream, I thought, there should be nothing wrong with enjoying this a little.

Without a care in the world, I decided to do a few poses in front of the mirror. I ran through an assortment of expressions, arm gestures, and I even tried different things with my (her) hair. As embarrassing as it is to admit, the experience excited me. I found it a nice change of pace to be stared back at through the mirror by someone so beautiful, and I enjoyed making Zoey wear expressions that I had never seen her wear while looking at me.
I could only smile at myself in the mirror for a few seconds before my (Zoey’s) face turned slightly red with embarrassment. It was apparently still difficult for me to look her in the eyes. I sighed at my own weakness and decided that it was time to find something else to do.

Scanning the room for some more entertainment, my eyes locked onto something interesting, and my feet immediately carried me over. I opened her clothing drawers one by one, scanning the contents until I located the prize at last. A trove filled to the brim with Zoey Brahm’s underwear cast a blindingly radiant light out into the room.

A rainbow of colors danced before my eyes as I shoved my(her) hands through the pile and ruffled through the contents. While my conscience would ordinarily weigh heavily on me in a situation like this, the circumstance of it being a dream made it easy enough to indulge myself. And indulge I did. The sensation of the cloth that had touched that unspeakable part of her body in the past was…

Unamusing.

Perhaps it was because I had become Zoey herself, but there was nothing arousing about this situation. I was simply going through the motions of rummaging through her underwear due to my curiosity as a teenage boy. But strangely enough, it was not a very appealing act. Not to mention, I had not found a single piece of uniquely erotic underwear in her possession. 

I wondered if the version of Zoey Brahm in my head was simply too pure to own any risqué panties, but I decided that such speculation was pointless. Whatever the reason for it was, it seemed like her underwear drawer was one that belonged to a girl who hadn’t had a boyfriend.

“Boyfriend…”

After uttering the word to myself, I removed the hands from her underwear drawer and shoved it back in immediately. I couldn’t help but wonder what her romance life was like. Did she have a date for the homecoming dance? It was in four days, so I thought that if there were any guys who were going to shoot their shots, they would have done it by now. 
I turned toward her phone, which laid on top of the frilly, blue bed sheets. It was a dream, sure. But in that moment, it was my reality. It’s possible to feel terror in a nightmare even if you’re aware that it’s a dream. It’s similar to watching a horror movie in that regard. Provided that the fantasy is immersive enough, the suspension of your disbelief in whatever fiction you’re engaged in is almost unavoidable.

And so, even knowing that this was a dream, I decided to allow my curiosity to get the best of me and sift through her phone’s contents. The phone was locked, but I easily unlocked it by tapping into my (Zoey’s) muscle memory. Her phone wallpaper was of a cute, brown Terrier. I thought it suited her, so I smiled warmly.

“Let’s see, boyfriend, boyfriend…”

She had been texting a few guys judging by her history, but as far as I could tell, none of them were making any progress with her. Far worse than that, they all seemed to be actively hurting their chances of getting together with her. Some of the text messages were downright creepy.

“Oh, what the hell.”

It seemed like Benjamin had gotten a hold of her number last month and had been texting her ever since. What to say about Benjamin? Well, he’s a huge asshole for one thing. He makes it a point to belittle anyone who isn’t remotely as popular as he is, but he’s on the basketball team and he’s a pretty good looking guy, so it’s not surprising that he’d be talking to a girl like Zoey.

The texts read like shit though…

She’d been ignoring him for about five days now, but he was still desperately sending strings of them off one by one, trying desperately to win her over as his date for the homecoming dance. The whole thing was just painful to look at. There was no reason for him to not take the hint and move on, was there? Yet despite how painful it was, I continued scrolling through the messages. I was fascinated. Fascinated by his commitment to winning her over despite the hopelessness of the situation.
And, slowly, that commitment began washing over my initial disgust… until eventually, my opinion changed entirely. No, it wasn’t anything as beautiful as admiration. I just felt bad for the guy. 

The truth of it is, I could sympathize with how he felt. Zoey really is amazing. I couldn’t say exactly when it was that I fell in love with her, but to me, she’s the definition of poised and graceful. It feels a little selfish to say this, but I really do want her all to myself.

And I could tell that Benjamin felt the same way. He must really love her for a popular guy like himself to send off messages that embarrassing. He was pouring his heart out to the girl that he loves, wasn’t he? So why not then? Why shouldn’t he get the girl?

I decided to send him a text saying that I(Zoey) would go to the dance with him. It’s only a dream after all, and I could see myself in his shoes. Let’s do our good deed for the day right here and make him happy.

After sending the text message, I flopped back onto the bed. Suddenly, all of the excitement and energy I’d felt from being placed into Zoey’s body was drained. Reading all of those text messages left me drowning in a pit of complicated emotions that I needed to sort through.

On one hand, I am a guy, so I understand how the guys who sent those messages felt. It’s really hard to find the right words when texting someone you like. There’s no instruction manual for this romance stuff after all. Not really. When you’re just starting off, you’re either good at it or you’re not, and it really does suck to get rejected by someone you’re interested in despite putting in all that effort to approach the girl that you like.

On the other hand, it was extremely draining to read all those sad attempts at getting together with Zoey. I only did it for about five minutes, but I still felt every ounce of wonder slowly leave my body. How do people handle all of the attention constantly? I think I’d want to run away if I had to deal with it in my everyday life. The flirting, the creepy messages and the expectations of it all led me to believe that Zoey Brahm had to deal with a lot. I almost felt bad for falling in love with her like the rest of them.

And as I thought that, I realized that I was just the same as all of them. No, I was worse. Wasn’t I creepily staring at her in the mirror? Didn’t I just go rummaging through her underwear drawer? Where do I get off looking down at the hordes of guys vying for her attention?

The thoughts filling my head were no longer the pleasant thoughts of a teenager who had entered an interesting new world. They were of a boy disillusioned by his own masculinity. This dream of mine had suddenly become extremely boring. I wanted to go back to my own life, where the only attention I had to deal with was my best friend Lance inviting me to play online video games every now and then. The peace and quiet of my life so far had been infinitely better than the hustle of being a popular girl. 

That was the conclusion I had come to from this dream. Thinking that, I allowed my consciousness to return to me so that I could begin my day.

---

Nightmares such as these had plagued my dreams ever since I started attending Deer Valley high, but that was the first time I had ever dreamed that I was someone else. It was a strange experience that somehow still felt imbued into my body even after I woke up that morning, but I decided to ignore it and focus on the upcoming day.

It was 6am on the Tuesday of homecoming week. Once awake, I went through my usual morning routine. This generally involved washing my face, having breakfast, and then going out to bike with dad. And so here we are, starting our Tuesday off with our daily bike ride.

“Bonding time,” he called it. Since I started cooping myself up in my room after school to do home-work and play video games, it quickly became the only real time we got to spend together. It had been our routine since I turned 14 years old, but being 18 now, I think I’ve grown tired of it. The issue is that it had already become our little tradition, so I didn’t want to upset him by asking him to stop. 

However, this time was different. While I usually did my best to stay quiet on these things to get them over with as painlessly as possible, there was something I felt like asking him that day, so I was glad that I had the opportunity to speak to him during bonding time.

“Hey da-“

“So! Do you have a girlfriend yet, Tristan?” he interrupted me without hesitation.

The lame part about bonding time was that the same conversations would come up like clockwork. How my classes were going, if I had any fun stories from school, my friends… and of course, he also made it a point to ask about my non-existent love life.

“No dad, still hasn’t happened yet.”

“Well, that suits you fine,” he replied. “Don’t be like those other guys who go out with any old gal just because she’s cute. You have to find someone you REALLY connect with. Someone who’ll stand in your corner in your darkest hour, just like you’ll stand in theirs. Like a best friend.”

When he says ‘those other guys’, an image of Lawrence Young popped into my head. Captain of the basketball team and commonly referred to as “The Law”, he was probably the most popular guy at school. He used that popularity to run through the girls at school like he was mowing through a bag of popcorn. Unlike Benjamin, he wasn’t openly mean to anyone so it’s a bit hard for me to hate him, but his reputation as a womanizer certainly does precede him. 

“Dad, I’m not like that,” I said.

Though I tried taking the moral high ground, the truth of it was that it was only out of circumstance rather than my own decision-making. I didn’t know how to get girls to like me in the first place. I had no idea what magical combination of words it was that I should string together, or what facial expressions or body language to use to make girls like me. I didn’t even know how to dress well. I always head over to school in the same jacket shirt and cargo pants combo. How does a guy that clueless about anything realistically become a womanizer?

“That’s good son,” he nodded. “Just ride it out. You’re still young, you’ll find someone special in time.”

The conversation petered out and we continued cycling in silence. It was a bit awkward for him to bring that up since my question was actually related to romance, but I decided to refocus and ask him anyway.

“So dad-“

“Hey by the way,” he immediately interrupted, “they’re gonna let me off early every day for the rest of the week. What do you say to movie night with your old man sometime?”

Or not.

Well, all the homecoming events are on Friday, but both Wednesday and Thursday were free so there was no reason not to.

“Sure dad, we could watch something tomorrow. What did you have in mind?”

“Have you heard of Taxi Driver before?”

“Uh, no not really. Is it good?”

“Oh, it’s fantastic. It’s my Black Panther.”

“Dad.”

“What? It really spoke to me when I was your age. Maybe you’re old enough to appreciate it now. ‘Some day, a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets’.”

“You’re being embarrassing, dad. Please stop.”

“Oh, whatever. Come on, it’ll be fun. Just try it.”

“Yeah, sure dad.”

Though I had put on a tough front, the truth is that I liked watching movies with dad. It doesn’t happen all that often, but I cherish that moment when the movie ends, and we start talking about what we liked and disliked.

Because of our movie nights, I became surprisingly adept at analyzing literature, and my teachers were increasingly satisfied by my contributions to class discussions. The ability to read through subtext and find the true meaning of a story is something I owed to dad. He would always pick great movies, and he is very articulate when it comes to expressing his thoughts on them.

We continued pedaling through the streets. A few of the neighbors waved at us, clearly used to seeing us on our biking routine in the morning. They usually greet us with warm smiles every morning when we pass by. I guess the thought of a father and son spending that much time together was a heartwarming sight. For me, it was just a little embarrassing, though.

“So anyway son, you were about to say something earlier?”

I realized suddenly that he did hear me, and that he might have just interrupted me as a joke. It certainly wasn’t out of character for him, but I decided to ignore it.

“Oh, uh. I was just going to ask how you and mom started going out.”

It was an uncomfortable question for me. The idea of my parents being romantic in any way kind of grosses me out to an unimaginable degree, so I try not to think about it under normal circumstances. But at that point, I decided that any frame of reference would be helpful.

My mom is conventionally good-looking, and she has enough style to get my friends back in middle school to act like idiots whenever they came over. So if you asked me, she’s way out of dad’s league. He’s like the biggest dork I know. If he can get the girl of his dreams, then so can I, right?

“Wow, really? We haven’t told you about it yet?” he asked.

“Nope, never.”

“Oh geez, isn’t that something. Well, uh... Oh shucks! I just remembered, I have a meeting today and I need to prepare the material.”

It certainly wasn’t the most graceful change of subject, but I gave him an E for effort.

“Do you not want to talk about it?”

He laughed with a hint of resignation, then looked down at the street to ponder for a moment.

“Well son,” he began, “it was at a college house party.”

I laughed.

“Really? A party? You, dad?”

“Hey now. Believe it or not, your father was quite the animal back in his day.”

Judging by the excessive bravado in his voice, I didn’t think that he was much of an animal at all, but it was probably better to take his word for it.

“So, what happened?”

He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Yes well, everyone was drinking and dancing, having a good time. You know how these things go.”

I didn’t, but I decided not to correct him.

“Your mom was there. She was just sitting there on the couch, chatting with her friends and having a few drinks. At the time I didn’t know her very well, but I did think she was quite the attractive young woman. Anyway, uh… another young man like myself decided to approach her. One of those alpha male types from back in the day. From the slimy hair to the leather jacket, the guy looked like he was trying out for a Grease audition. Anyway, when the two of them lock eyes, he starts off with some real flirty conversation, like he knows she’ll fall for him if he just says the right words. But she doesn’t. She’s not interested at all. Your mom’s smarter than to get reeled in by some shallow guy like that. But he doesn’t take the hint, that guy, and he decides to get more forward with her. He starts getting handsy. I’m a ways away, but even I can tell she looks uncomfortable.”

“With mom…?”

An uncomfortable feeling began to well within the pit of my stomach. His story made me anxious, but I was far too invested to say anything.

“Yep. And your old man was, well, a little drunk. I wouldn’t have done anything ordinarily. I might have a strong sense of justice, but I don’t really have much courage to go alongside it. Anyway, that night I happened to be drunk, so I walked right up to him and said, ‘hey, you leave her alone buddy’.”

I nodded at his recollection of what happened, so focused that I almost forgot that I was riding a bike.

“And he looks amused that I’m even there. Like he thinks I’m a clown who should just stay in his lane. I mean, maybe I was. They could’ve been dating and this was just their dynamic or something, right? What do I know? But I didn’t want to risk anything. If there was even a sliver of a chance that she was being made to feel uncomfortable, I wanted to put a stop to it. That was how I felt at that time. Things escalated in any case and he confronts me. Stands right in my face with this, this cocksure grin. And I don’t know. Something about that face of his… I-I just lost it. I don’t know why. Something in my head just snaps, and I throw a right hook. Pow! Right in the jaw. He reels back, almost gets knocked off his feet. He looked surprised that I did it, and so did everyone else at the party. They started cheering for me. No one, I mean NO one expected me to do something like that.”

I was genuinely surprised. My dad? In a fight over a girl? In my 18 years of life, I had never pictured him doing something like that. I looked over at him in excitement.

“Yeah? And then? What happened?”

At my question, my father only smiled.

“What happened? He beat the crap out of me!”

“Of course,” I laughed with a sigh of disappointment.

“Oh, but see, that wasn’t important. Because your mom, you know? She really appreciated it. Thought it was cool, even. Boy, what a first impression that was, huh? Little did she know that I only did it because I just happened to be so drunk and loose at the time.”

I smiled bitterly and looked down at the concrete as my tires smoothly glided across it. It was a heartwarming story. It had given me a newfound appreciation for my parents’ relationship. A man overcoming his own fear to stand up for something bigger than himself, and the respect he was afforded because of it. I didn’t regret asking the question.

However…

“So why’d you ask all of a sudden? Just curious?”

“Huh? Oh… well. To be honest, there’s a girl I’ve been thinking about asking to the dance on Friday.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t know if that story will help much. I don’t recommend knocking teeth the way I did, it was only a coincidence how it turned out.”

“Yeah.”

“But listen, son. If there’s a single piece of advice I think you should treasure when it comes to women, it’s this: Just be yourself. You don’t want to date someone who doesn’t like the real you, do you?”

“But what if the girl I like doesn’t like the real me?”

“Then she’s not worth your time, is she?”

He pressed down on the brakes as we finally arrived back at home.

“You’re a good kid, Tristan. And I’m not just saying that because you’re my son either. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’re kind, smart, and most importantly, you’re passionate. I mean, your love for movies is almost as great as my own! Loving things that much means that you have character, and I’m sure whoever that girl is would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks dad.”

I smiled bitterly. My father’s loving words filled my heart with complicated emotions.

I was happy to know that he loves me, and I knew he meant well, but I just didn’t see it. 

I didn’t understand how Zoey could ever love a boring guy like me.